Click on first photo to enlarge all.
The tree is finally up and decorated. (My plan to leave it decorated and just wrap it up didn’t work as well as it did last year. I had to rehang most of the ornaments, but at least the lights were up.) The little planter and succulent were a gift from Yolanda. She got it on her Mexico City trip. The vase is just 4 inches high and has an interesting story behind it. I had seen one exactly like it but a foot high in a shop in Sheridan, Wyoming and loved it but knew I could never get it back to Mexico intact. I did, however, take a photo of it which has mysteriously disappeared off my photo library. An amazing coincidence, as I hadn’t shown the photo to Yolanda and had no idea it came from Mexico. It is adorable and is sitting now on my desk. The painting was a birthday gift from my friend Glenda and the flowers were a welcome home gift from my house sitter, Brad.
My shoes go out without me. They do it all the time,
and do the things I never do. They jog. They hike. They climb.
When I wake up I find them strewn throughout the house—
one flip flop on the counter. High heels beneath my blouse
that’s flung across the table where I don’t remember putting it.
I bet they’ve been out dancing—two-stepping and high-footing it.
When my cowboy boots go riding, I’d like to go along.
I’m pretty sure, however, they think things would go wrong.
Perhaps the horse would throw me or I’d wind up getting lost.
I’m sorry that I bought them, considering the cost!
Other people are the boss of all their clothes and shoes,
but when my shoes and I face off, I am the one to lose.
I could take to going barefoot. This would work while at the beach.
Then when all my shoes are out far beyond my reach,
into the surf I’ll wade and then wander out again,
trapping sand between my toes everywhere I’ve been.
So when my shoes get home at night, they’ll be completely clueless
that I’ve left them out as well by venturing out shoeless!
We were asked to write about an ordinary objects For dVerse Poet’s Pub.
One of a flock of lovely flowers on my desk when I returned from Acapulco. Thanks, Brad.
For Cee’s FOTD
Man was always venturesome. He wanted to be free
to examine that next hilltop, to sail upon the sea.
Adventure was his target for game or other food.
Always his first priority to feed his growing brood.
But he fared more poorly in trying to connect
with a brand new culture or with a different sect.
He too often made a target of what might have been a friend.
We have evolved from all of this and warheads are the end
of this long long story, for it has been always so.
Conquering is swift and understanding is too slow.
Though we are Homo sapiens, both root words are misnomers,
for we aren’t exactly sapient and for sure we aren’t stay-homers!
Words of the day are connect, target, venturesome and sapient. Here are links:
I’m held captive by your wrinkles, dear, enraptured by your ripples.
I love your freckles and your moles and all of nature’s stipples.
They are sacred landmarks. When I find one that is new,
I must give thanks to nature for adding more of you.
Sometimes with the darkness around us rich and deep,
my mind goes on a walkabout as you lie asleep.
The roadmap of your body is the terrain that I pace—
the ravines and the gullies and your face’s fragile lace.
Some bemoan the changes that nature brings about,
and they bring a different beauty. It’s true, without a doubt.
But as I trace each special feature of your body and your face,
I’m reassured that nature’s carving instills a deeper grace.
The prompt words today are ripple, special, enrapture and sacred. Here are links:
I especially enjoyed this essay on the Middle Aged Soup blog. I, too, never kill a spider in the house and I think she does a fine job of explaining why. (Funnel web spiders and Black Widows and Brown Recluse are exceptions to my rule.)
When I was nine, the boys in the neighborhood dared me to pull the legs from a daddy long leg. Being the only girl in the group I just had to, and then I had no choice but to kill him. I cried for a week, for years after I caught all the spiders I could inside to “free” them outside. I feel like I have been called as the the Lorax for spiders, always cautioning people that they want spiders in their life.
Last year a plague of fruit flies came to my house. We set out wine glasses stretched tight with saran wrap and poked an indented hole in the center, Google heralded this as the DIY solution. They worked for the most part but the plague ran deep. About three days in I was washing dishes when to my surprise a jumping spider…
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