happy thanksgiving!

**

May you need

All of your fingers

And all of your toes

And still, not have enough

To count all of your blessings.

May they be more numerous by far

Than all of the stars

In all of the sky

For all of time…

Happy thanksgiving!

suzanne ❤️

November 28, 2019

and the wind came…

**
Nearly a whole moon ago
I lazed beneath a crystal blue
And above a glittering shimmering
One reflected in the other
As it came to be the same with me
Memory waltzed with thought
In a seamless dance of spirit
Three quarter time
In tune with the breeze
And with me
Once
Twice
And three times again
A butterfly
Appeared to the right of me
A monarch surprise
Wherever he came from
I know not
Which doesn’t matter much anyway
It is only special
That he found me
At the heart of a special day
Once
Twice
And three times again
I was mesmerized 
So out of place he was
Suspended between blue and blue
With no field and no flowers
Anywhere in sight
Leading me gently to ask why
Once
And twice
And three times again
As the wheel of life does turn 
Upon itself
So did he
To me
His wings sang of sunset
A feast of a thousand peaches
Ripened in an evening sky
He did not float in still air
Nor, did he fly strong and purposely
He was a winged mystery 
Powerless
In the face of the invisible 
Not fighting against the unseen
Instead, he let himself just be
And the wind came
And carried him 
To all the places 
He could never have imagined 
For himself.
Then, ever so gracefully,
Once
Twice 
And three times again
He fluttered near
And carried me there too…

****
ellie894 November 4, 2019
there was a butterfly that day, a stunning peachy tangerine one. Out of place. Three times he came to me from nowhere, over the water, under the sky and out of the breeze.

can a sweater be like a tango…

I want to begin with a where,
And a why,
And a sort of a how.
I want to tell you that the light is soft,
Whether it is the flicker of a candle or the glow of a lamp.
I want to tell you of the music,
As a piano dances, a violin takes to the sky and lyrics sink into the depths of me.


I want to tell you of my sweater,
The long gray one that falls to the backs of my calves, 
that sways with my every move, 
much like a tango, 
only with a more subtle flair.
Can a sweater even be like a tango…  
I wrote that over and again last night,
And deleted it each time.  
Yet, here I am writing it once more. 
Perhaps it wants to be written, and wants to be told. 
There are other thoughts too, 
Moments of nothing but cloudy mist,
Afternoons weary from searching 
The edges of dawn blushing at the very thought of what may be,


And, the way I love coffee with cream
In a small cup 
First thing.
And later in the day, tea
Also in a small cup
Sweetened with a touch of cane sugar
And stirred rhythmically 
With my favorite spoon.
Do you know why I love a small cup?
Because, I sip more than I drink,
I savor more than I gulp.
I like my brew hot…
Too big of a cup, and it goes…
…cold
It’s not meant to be cold,
It’s meant to be…
….hot,
…and steamy and bold.
So that the cup may warm my hands,
As the brew warms my soul…
That’s the way it’s meant to be,
Warming,
As the sun upon my face
As the love within my heart,
My hands hold gently
My lips kiss the edges
And I am embraced by the heat
So very completely…
That’s the way it’s meant to be
Hot…


****
ellie894 November 14, 2019





come with me…I shall give you something and take you somewhere

The Animal Family by Randall Jarrell


Is there anything so nice 
As curling up 
With a lovely book
A cup of tea
And something sweet…
*
Seven chapters long,
Reminds me of a week of days
How much longer it must have taken than that to create the tale,
To watch it become more than mere words
Illustration by Maurice Sendak

The mother, the father and the boy
Were shipwrecked on a deserted island
Time passed
As time does,
Whether there are clocks to mark it or not.
The mother passed
The father passed 
And, the boy was alone
But, he was no longer the boy
He was the hunter now

*
Evening after evening 
Her soft voice 
Called him to the shore
And to her song
Where the alone of him
Met the sea of her
And 
Lapped at his heart
As waves that wet the sand
And make it their very own

So, the mermaid 
Who had spent her whole life 
Swimming away from things
Left her watery world
To be with the hunter
In their island home
Now, they were two

*
Time passed 
As time does
And the hunter found the cub
The baby who would grow to be the brown bear
The hunter brought him home
The sticky honey loving bear 
Who curled up by the fire to sleep
Now, they were three
*
Time passed 
As time does
And the hunter found the kitten
The baby who would grow to be the lynx
The hunter brought him home
The playful purring lynx 
Who loved to give you somethings 
And get you to go to somewheres 
Now, they were four


Time passed 
As time does
And the lynx found a boy  
Who would become The boy
*
But, for now 
He was a crying baby in a shipwreck,
On that self same shore
Where the hunter had once been the boy in the shipwreck 
Where the calling song was sung
Where the mermaid left the sea
And the hunter had carried her home
Yes, that self same shore
With the heart-lapping waves


So with the help of the bear,
The lynx brought the boy to their home 
The one overlooking the sea
The hunter, the mermaid, the bear, the lynx and the boy
Now, were five
Just as one head, two hands and two feet
Are five
Held together by home and by heart
*
Time passed 
As time does..
…in every line of the tale
There was the whisper of the waves
On the shipwrecked island shore
Singing the song of belonging
Of
The boy, the lynx, the bear, the mermaid and the hunter
Who lived and loved
Who loved and lived
As time passed
As time does
For now and for evermore…


There were no a’s in this tale 
As an a could be anyone
Any hunter, any mermaid, any bear, any lynx, any boy
And there were no anyones in this tale
There were only someones
*
There were no names in this tale
But, names were not needed
Nor were they missed
I knew each someone well
As well as they knew each other
*
The hunter only ever hunted for one thing really,
What do You think it was…
And which The are You…

*

I recently read The Animal Family by Randall Jarrell.   This is my own retelling of it and how it came to find a home in the heart of me. It’s a charming story written in 1965 with a few very sweet illustrations by Maurice Sendak.  At the library it is shelved in the children’s section, and that is where it found me…

****
ellie894 October 14, 2019
Jarrell, Randall. The Animal Family. New York: Pantheon Books, 1965





Scene Cuts – Comedy

Scene Cuts Created by A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip!

Thank you Rory for inviting me to share funny moments from movies I love in this premiere of Scene Cuts! We could all do with more laughter in our lives and this is wonderful way to begin. 

Once a week, Rory will pick a Film Genre, post three film clips and tag three readers who in turn will post three film clips on the chosen film genre and tag 3 of their own. 

In Rory’s own words – So what’s Scene Cuts? Fair question … and answered very simply – everyone love movies and films and everyone loves ‘ snippets’ from their favourites … those funny scenes, those moments which just captivated you!

This week’s theme is Comedy! 

My three clips are…

 

 

 

I invite anyone who would like to share funny movie moments to pause their giggles and do so! 

****

ellie894  October 6, 2019

faded colors, sweet potatoes and a shower of champagne…

July 14, 2019

Despite the heat,

I have been outdoors

For the last two days

Tending

To roses

And grasses

And trees

The sunny dappled garden of my days

I even dug in the dirt

To plant the already sprouting

Sweet potatoes

I offered them a better home

Than their pantry basket

Did you know

If given the chance

They make a lovely vine

The tendrils are delicate

The leaves decorous

And the green is decidedly delightful

So it was

That I was

Tired and sore

And, I almost did not walk last evening

But,

I changed my mind at the last

And went ahead anyway

How happy I am for it

For whatever carried me to there

Away from my to dos

And into the fields

Tended by their own dear sky

A wind blew cool from the north

A welcome respite in a Texas July

Bringing along

Snowy whites and threatening grays

It surprised me

And caught me

In a bubbly sparkling rain

How still I stood

To listen

To a thousand fairies

Dancing from leaf to leaf

In joyful innocence

Open the eyes of your heart

Their silvery wings whispered to me

And so I turned

From beneath the cover

And protection of the juniper

To see

An enchanting bow of faded colors

Filling the air with hope

And my dreams with surrender

I imagine it to be a circle

And wonder where it travels to

Beyond where I can see

Into a brightest elsewhere

Of love’s eternal hide and seek

How very grateful I am

That wonder called to me

And I listened…

Behind every poem is a fullness of thought. So it is with this one. On a July day, I planted sweet potatoes. I walked to a hilltop where rain caught me. I marveled at a rainbow arching over field, forest and home. And, I listened.

Recently I read a small book about cultivating silence. Thinking about silence suddenly makes you keenly aware of all the sounds that you hear. Silence reminds me to listen.

Even though everyone, including me is bestowing Happy Autumn wishes, it is still summer in Texas. It’s nearly October and this very minute I hear the sound of the sprinkler rhythmically turning under the holly tree, splashing everything in its path.

Hummingbirds are performing a brilliant “cirque de soleil”. I am the lucky soul with a free front row seat! They twitter and hum as they playfully zip-zing and then rest for a time among the prickled leaves. The hummers eat more in September than at any other time of the year. I think it’s because they’ll leave me soon. They’re fattening up before their long journey. I wonder what their tropical getaway looks like and whether they miss the holly tree.

Those sweet potatoes that I planted are so cheerful! If I can keep Jack and Dobby from romping through them they will grow all the way into December. I giggle that I find so much to love about them. You see, I’ve never liked to eat sweet potatoes. When I was a child I couldn’t stand them no matter how deliciously you dressed them up. Even marshmallows made no difference to me.

Gosh Mimi, those sweet potatoes smell good.

Would you like some, suzanne?

No thank you.

In truth I probably made a squinchy face and said Blech as they were heaped on my plate. If only I had had Bo back then. He would have sat blissfully at my elbow scarfing down every yucky bite I snuck to him. But, that’s a story for another day, aptly titled – The Dog Eats Half My Food!

Now, I eat sweet potatoes twice a year. They’re fine. But, I will never be a fan.

However, I do love to watch them grow. They create a twirling elegant vine. In autumn I buy them fresh at farmers’ roadside markets. Some I cook. The rest wait to be planted the following spring. I know, July is nowhere near spring. I was incredibly late this year. Nevertheless, in the ground they went.

I didn’t have very high hopes for them. After all, we were heading into the hottest driest part of the year. Who plants anything in July?! This year, I did. And, you know what? They have grown above and beyond my expectations. They are the happiest little patch of heart shaped leaves and curling tendrils that you can possibly imagine. They have spread like a low lush forest. You never can tell who might be playing in there…

Back to that July afternoon –

There was rain! Fluffy clouds rolled in and surprised me. It hinted of champagne. A cork joyously popped!! Bubbles spilled over the edges and the sky winked at me as if there was something special about this moment. And there I was caught right in the lovely center of it. I can still hear the drops cascading around me in my secluded hilltop waterfall.

There was a rainbow! Have you ever noticed how silent they are. Not a single sound. They come and go without ever crying out or begging to be seen. How many do we miss because we are occupied in thought or in doing. But this one…I heard. In its own gentle voice it rhymed and sang and invited me to dance. The colors gathered me and sailed me to far away places…into enticing dreamscapes as I wondered where its other half might be. I stayed and stayed not wanting to miss a single tender hue or precious step.

And, then there were sweet potatoes. They lay quietly in their dark underground cavern listening…to the earth and the rain and the colors of the rainbow telling them All that they would become…in time.

The last few months have been parched. I don’t have an answer. Sometimes life is like that. Dry and dusty. You wait, for rain and for hope to come. In the meantime, you do what you can. Turn on the sprinkler. Enjoy the hummers. Be someone’s rainbow. And, listen to the sweet potatoes grow…

May your spirit find refreshment in listening to the soft and silent things that touch your heart.

Suzanne ❤️

****

ellie894 September 29, 2019

Note there are no photos of actual sweet potatoes or casseroles in this post because…you know, reasons. 😉

321 Quote Me – Gratitude

 

Thank you to Rory for tagging me in 321 Quote Me! His chosen theme of this one is Gratitude. He has a marvelous welcoming site that encourages both thought and community. Please do visit him and enjoy a look around.

**

321 Quote Me Created by A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip

 

Gratitude

Piglet noticed that even though he had a very small heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.

A.A. Milne

***

Gratitude turns what we have into enough.

Aesop

***

I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder.

G.K. Chesterton

How does one sum up gratitude in two quotes? Well, as you can clearly see, I didn’t. I searched and searched for just the right words to say what I felt to be true. I searched and searched for just the right photo. Time and again I found myself back where I began. Quotes about gratitude often end in love. Images that inspire gratitude are of things I love. It would do me no good to try and separate the two. They are as intricately woven together as is the most delicate lace.

I love the way…is where my writing so often begins. It is my heart’s gratitude for the everyday things and the ways of them.

I love..

..the way the breeze picks up the edges of the sheets that are hung on the clothesline to dry

..the way hummingbirds hover in sweet greeting making me feel a part of their tiny world

..the way calves are insatiably curious and begin to follow me

..the way flowers bloom..enough said

..the way autumn colors light everything in a spectacular sunset that lasts beyond nightfall

..the way Dobby looks at me with soulful eyes and waggles his short tail

..the way a crockpot does all the cooking for me on a long day

..the way a song catches in your center and won’t let go and you’re glad for it to be there

..the way Jack reminds me of a muppet

..the way pizza can have any topping you like

..the way the first cool morning after a hot summer excites like love’s first kiss

..the way Bo adores the porch but thinks the yard is made of lava

..the way children giggle..at almost anything

..the way cookies go well with cold milk or hot tea or…come to think of it, cookies go well with everything

..the way clouds make movies in the sky

..the way Ellie snuggles just because

..the way friends encourage each other

..the way a grateful heart makes us mindful of the needs of others

Gratitude is not a thing. It is a way of being. Gratitude is the way you love everything around you…and then it is the way that everything around you loves you back…

Thank you kindly for reading and for being a beautiful part of my days,

Suzanne❤️

321 Quote Me encourages me to tag three people to continue on with sharing their own favorite quotes about gratitude. I invite anyone who is so inspired to participate and link back to Rory at A Guy Called Bloke and K9 Doodlepip

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

on the night swing…

On the night swing

Silence reigns peacefully…

One, two, three…

I begin to count the stars,

Soon, I realize there aren’t nearly enough.

Where did they get away to,

Did they become wishes,

And did they come true…

With an upward gaze and an open heart,

I fly from here to soar the heavens

And tiptoe there among them.

They sparkle with a surety and a grace

That sends me back through time

Into a shining darkness of uncountable nights.

Ones that came before so many counterfeit lights of man.

There was an age

When stars outnumbered the neon glow.

I miss it much…

Do those that are left in the heavens look to us now,

In mystery, as we do them.

Are they intrigued by our sparklers of one kind and another.

Do they surmise that some of their very own

Have fallen into this dusty corner of space…

…to enchant us mere women and men…

…maybe.

Is that how a wish is born,

Does a star choose to fall,

Because it heard the distant whisper of a thought…

It hopes,

And draws close,

Close enough to listen…

To the stories of you and me.

…maybe.

But, I ask,

Do they still enchant us,

Or have we replaced them

With something that will never be real.

Desire beckons to me

To find a somewhere

Where once again, the lights of us are few to none,

And the stars are free

To reign in silence

From their own celestial home

Where they belong….

****

ellie894 September 8, 2019

all at once I know…

I cannot yet say that there’s a welcome chill in the air

…but it is finally September…

Could you hear the sigh in me

As I wrote it out full…

September…

Last night a deer felt at home in the field

This morning,

A hawk graces the sky above me

My creek saunters on

As lyrically as always

To wherever it goes

But to my gaze it all seems the tiniest bit different

Far more exquisite than mere words

Can tell

It shimmers from the inside

As though by a faery’s whispered spell

I take a step

And another

…and another still

Gentle ones made carefully

So as not to disturb the tender things

That call the ground home

While I search the pine straw for a feather

…there isn’t one to be found

Perhaps there will be when I return

In time for the sun to wish me goodnight

Oh, eventime…

Will the colors be brilliant in their last hurrah

Or faded and comforting

Like my favorite soft jeans

We’ll see

But I don’t want to miss this moment

In anticipation of that one

And so back to now,

Woodpeckers knocking behind me

And turtles preparing to laze themselves long

Hour after hour

Upon the finest fallen log

I wonder at what they will see

While I am away this day

I breathe deeply in

The sweet air of a new dawn

After all it is September…

Some days there is a peace that comes

That nearly overwhelms me,

As silent as a single feather drifting

As mighty as the golden setting sun

All at once my heart knows

Beyond all knowing

That this…

…this is what love feels like…

****

ellie894 September 4, 2019

I could play with these thoughts a while longer and make them just so. I wonder if I’ve made a mistake somewhere that I’ll discover only after I share. So please forgive any missteps. I want only to give them away before this day gets away from me. They’re yours now and my hope is that you’ll find something lovely in them of your very own to keep. May you all find joy and kindness in the days ahead. ❤️

in the heart of every moment…

The music beckoned to me

To go

So I went

In search of what

I cannot be sure

But, when I came to rest

Deep within the soul

Of my own belonging

I looked down to my feet

Planted firmly upon the sturdy ground

And what to my enchantment

Did I find there….

…but an ancient,

primeval forest…

A wildness beyond my imagining

As near as my touch…

It contained its own bewildering completion

Before it would ever even begin

I am mesmerized

As I leave it behind me

Will it stay there

Where I first found it

Or will it travel farther than far

To become all that it was meant to be

The music beckons to me

To go on

So I go

Wondering as I do

At how many moments in a day

Hold the vast possibility of everything

Yet, we move too quickly

To know they are there

I see a primeval forest

At home in the depths of your gaze

I see an ancient universe

Dance in the sparkle of your smile

In the heart of every moment

Eternity is hoping

To become the love story

That it was always meant to be…

****

ellie894 July 30, 2019

Listening to Beethoven’s Pastoral Symphony