I showed a few photos of David and Sergio’s wonderfully decorated Christmas house a few days ago, but encourage you to see their blog HERE
which gives many more photos plus explanations of the theme of each of their eight (perhaps more) incredible Christmas trees.
If you didn’t see them before, you can see my photos of their party and decorations HERE.
Festive Is
. . . ribbons and candles and holly.
Christmas trees, parties both raucous and jolly.
Confetti in hair and the nerve to kiss boys
beneath the mistletoe, and other joys.
Presents and eggnog and wedding cake, too.
Fireworks. Flags waving red, white and blue.
Easter egg optimism in the hunting,
papel picado and streamers and bunting.
Festive is hearts charged up with the living.
Anticipation and loving and giving.
Remembrance of exploits and births and unitings,
Easter ham slicings and turkey leg bitings.
May baskets on doorsteps. Socks hung in a row.
Eggnog and streamers wherever you go.
Who knows where festivity had its first starts—
Easter egg rolling or Valentine hearts?
Square dances, cloggings and Virginia reelings
end up on the feet but start with warm feelings
that set toes to tapping and make folks so restive
that they have no choice but to end up as festive!
Before presents and food and new decorations
increase credit card debt to new elevations,
perhaps we’ll remember to go back to the start
and return the horse to in front of the cart.
Our kids need to learn that joy can’t be bought,
and it’s up to us that the lesson be taught.
Before it’s too late, we must somehow impart
that there’s no charge for love and no price tag on heart.
Nervous Nibbling Prior to the St. Patrick’s Day Party
I’ve secured the decorations and I’ve bought the party food.
I’ve put out all the shamrocks and soon the whole damn brood
will descend en masse for the St. Patrick’s celebration.
I fear that by the end of it I’ll need a small vacation.
Green salad and green curry, green bean casserole, green beer.
Every single item of refreshment that is hereÂ
seems to be of verdant hue. I’m finding it most shocking,
and soon there will be over-drinking and much over-talking.
Everyday on March 17th, I find it is the same.
If we run out of green cuisine, I am the one to blame.
Every other day of March, I’m totally secure.
It’s only the 17th day I find hard to endure.
This green ice-cream is melting and I fear it will be wasted.
It cannot last much longer. It’s a shame it’s gone untasted.
It looks so delicious. There are bowls there on the shelf.
Do you think it would be callous if I ate it all myself?
Words for the day are ice cream, callous, shamrock, secure and everyday.
Easter Hunts
My toy cannon muffled by an egg stuffed in its snout.
Easter grass and sugar eggs hidden inside and out.
My parents’ Easter soirees were things of grand design.
The pink nests were sister’s and the yellow ones were mine.
One disappeared behind the mirror, one behind father’s chair.
At the end, still one nest to be found, I knew not where.
Suckers, Peeps and sugar eggs, jelly beans and gummies—
sought out and stuffed in Easter baskets, then stuffed in our tummies.
My folks went to such bother, whereas I must say in truth,Â
If I’d been asked, I’d rather have just had a Baby Ruth!
Prompt words this Easter Sunday are truth, soiree, disappear, cannon and mirror. (You didn’t make it east this time, folks!)
Warm Christmas Tidings
Click on photos to enlarge and read captions.
Warm Christmas Tidings
Christmas without frost can be merry nonetheless.
You can have the camaraderie, the company and mess.
Christmas in warm climates has all of the same joys,
and even really old kids can enjoy sacks full of toys.
Spinning tops with lights and music rounded out the night,
Sergio and David thrilling at the sight.
As old friends and some new ones met this last week of December
to make another Christmas memory for us all to remember.
Prompt words for today are Christmas, frost, merry, joy and sight.
Click on first photo below to enlarge all and read captions.
Scrooge and Your Christmas Vacation
Scrooge has turned surfing waves to ice and ski slopes into water.
Now he’ll ruin the rest of Christmas for your son and daughter.
He’s hacked into Kris Kringle’s map and hijacked all the toys—
the dolls and basketballs of girls, the hockey sticks of boys.
He’s eaten all the cookies—just stuffed them in his face.
The mistletoe and holly? Vanished, without a trace.
Yes, Scrooge is up to his old tricks, spreading brimstone and acid
over all your Christmas plans that seemed so set and placid.
If you want to thwart him, take your surfboards to the slopes.
Go skiing at the oceanside. Ruin all his dark Scrooge hopes.
Make merry with no mistletoe. Traditions rearrange.
Give Santa Claus a hotdog. He’ll appreciate the change!
In our modern screwed-up world, we’ve gone a bit astray.
We’ve forgotten the real purpose behind our Christmas Day.
That first Christmas was as humble as a Christmas scene could be.
No holly and no mistletoe. Much less frivolity.
The original gifts of Christmas were not placed beneath a tree,
for those first gifts that were given were not meant for you and me.
How the message has been altered as it came down the years
is that Christmas is for getting and disappointed tears
if we don’t get what we wanted. Expectations of perfection.
When we think of giving, we don’t see our own reflection.
Perhaps Scrooge brings the point across that joy is in the living.
So instead of what you hoped you’d get, concentrate on giving!
Prompt words today are Scrooge, map, tasteful, placid and water.
Life and Death–Constantly aware of this is Mexico, where one day a year the dead come out to play.
For Becky’s Line in Squares October Challenge
Click on first photo to enlarge all.
“I don’t know that there are real ghosts and goblins, but there are always more trick-or-treaters than neighborhood kids.”   —Robert Brault
Interlopers
They watch the clock, waiting for dark,
impatient for their All-souls lark.
Small ghosts and goblins screech and moan,
their ghastly act to finely hone.
“Eye of newt and toe of frog,”
Mother prompts, as off they jog—
little witches in Walmart capes
with itchy tags upon their napes.
Meanwhile, other ghastly things
soar in on brooms, flap in on wings.
They’ve found that yearly secret door
under the earth, under the floor,
and creaked it open. Joining the flood
who lust for treats, they lust for blood.
Who among us might ace the task
of sorting countenance from mask?
That little vampire, newly gone—
was his blood real or painted on?
“Double double toil and trouble,
cauldron boil and cauldron bubble.”
Were those lines recently rehearsed
or are these witches instead well-versed
in brewing up a recipe
of wing of gnat and eye of bee?
Which ghoulies real and which ones playing?
Which ones begging? Which ones preying?
What other night of any year
do we open doors, devoid of fear
for such strange beings? Who thinks of this—
Hershey’s kisses or vampire’s kiss?
A silly poem. When small ghosts boo, they
offer no real threat. Or do they?
Prompts for today are the secret door, adage, screech, treat and clock. Since one of the prompt words was “adage,” rather than use the actual word in the poem, I used a quote (an adage of sorts) by Robert Brault as inspiration for this poem.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 