This vine has been growing on the outside of my wall for nineteen years and I still don’t know what it is. On a whim, I snapped this photo not noticing what a wonderful background the color of the car parked across the street made for the little surreal still life the flowering vine formed. It’s the first good shot I’ve had of this flower in all those years.
ForCee’s FOTD.
Rescinded Offer
Her succinct requirements rush outward like a river.
What she expects from marriage. What she expects he’ll give her.
She tries to soften her demands with voice both soft and sweet—
habits he must abolish. Standards he should meet.
They stand before cerulean bay the color of her eyes.
Waves breaking gently on the shore first soothe, then hypnotize.
Then a clap of thunder disturbs the scenic spell.
He hears the content of her words and knows her very well.
There won’t be any marriage. She never will be his.
He’s decided to just find a girl who’ll take him as he is!
Word prompts for the day are cerulean bay, abolish, river, succinct and breaking.
Mrs. Blumenschein Matriculates at Sixty
Enough with the babies. It’s time now for you.
Cease with the usual. Do something new.
For once be the player instead of the coach.
Let this school year start out with a brand new approach.
Before you’re a grandma, face your heart’s desire.
Matriculate college as others retire.
Sixty’s not too late to make use of your mind.
Create the life for which you have pined.
As your youngest departs to expand his knowledge,
pack up your own bags. It’s your own turn for college.
When I entered college in 1965, one of my fellow freshmen was Mrs. Blumenschein, age 60, mother of nine, who, when her youngest packed up for college, packed up and enrolled herself. She had long red tangled hair, the nicotine-stained fingers and cracked voice of a chain-smoker and a sharp mind. Graduating in four years with an A average, she became a graduate assistant in the English Department as she went on to get her masters. One form of discrimination rarely mentioned in this age of protest against racial, sexual and gender discrimination is ageism. Mrs. Blumeschein conquered that prejudice long before it ever became an issue elsewhere. So, here’s my tribute to Mrs. Blumenschein.
Prompts for the day are enough, baby, usual, matriculate and coach. Image thanks to Alonso Villa Ulloa on Unsplash, used with permission
The US Postal Service was ordered by the President to create a new first class stamp featuring a picture of President Trump, but the new stamp was not sticking to envelopes. This enraged the President who demanded a full investigation. After weeks of testing costing nearly two million dollars of taxpayer’s money, a special Presidential commission presented the following finding:
3. People are spitting on the wrong side.
A friend sent me this information. Sorry, I don’t know the source. Do you suppose it could be fake news? ;o)
Day’s End
There’s a fire in the sky, but shadows to come.
Hummingbirds ceasing their prolix hum.
Unpredictable garage doors creak open on hinges
as fathers come home from their work or their binges.
Moms lean over fences, cranky from their labors,
putting off dinner to gossip with neighbors
as children stream home from playground or field
to see what computer or TV screens yield.
The strings of the day slow down to a strum
as day turns to night and the senses go numb.
Everything sinking, growing more deep.
Darkening, quieting, falling asleep.
Prompts today are “fire in the sky,” cranky, unpredictable, prolix and shadows.
Above is the entire box. Below are enlargements of each square. Click on photos to enlarge. even more.
Over fifty years ago, my sister Betty gave me a memory box for Christmas. It was an old box used to store type-setting letters with thirty compartments, some of which she backed up with paper and decorated with a buckeye, a small bird, a basket of dried flowers. It was up to me to fill the rest. I remember sitting that Christmas and choosing photos from my family album to put in some of the boxes and over the years I have added other objects that together tell the story of my life. I had the box hanging in my studio, but when men recently installed wifi wiring, they knocked it off the wall and a number of the pieces fell out of the box. Others rolled away and were lost. So, during this three months of isolation, I’ve spent more time in the studio and so for several days, off and on, I worked on refilling the memory box. In some cases the glue had soaked through the photos. In other cases the photos have nearly become invisible. I found backing material for some squares that had no backing, added items from the many drawers of items in my studio. Here is the finished project, mostly restored to its old order but with many additional items added as well. I was going to try to tell the story of each square, then decided that I would tell the stories as people queried me about them. If no one is curious, I’ll let the memory box tell its own story. If there are any squares you want me to tell the story of, make a request and it will be met. The memories span a time period from 1947 to 1987, when I got married. Above is the memory box, with all of its warts.
HERE is an Explanation of the “6 Coeds Narrowly Avoid Disaster in the Mountains” square, and HERE is an Explanation of the square with the quinine pills and pins.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 