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
July 14, 2019
Despite the heat,
I have been outdoors
For the last two days
The sunny dappled garden of my days
I even dug in the dirt
To plant the already sprouting
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
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
Snowy whites and threatening grays
It surprised me
And caught me
In a bubbly sparkling rain
How still I stood
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
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.
ellie894 September 29, 2019
Note there are no photos of actual sweet potatoes or casseroles in this post because…you know, reasons. 😉
Piglet noticed that even though he had a very small heart, it could hold a rather large amount of Gratitude.
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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…
Is that how a wish is born,
Does a star choose to fall,
Because it heard the distant whisper of a thought…
And draws close,
Close enough to listen…
To the stories of you and me.
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
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…
Last night a deer felt at home in the field
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
It shimmers from the inside
As though by a faery’s whispered spell
I take a step
…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
Will the colors be brilliant in their last hurrah
Or faded and comforting
Like my favorite soft jeans
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
…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. ❤️
The music beckoned to me
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,
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
This morning well before six a.m. I read that time is a circus always packing up and moving away, that nursery fare is supreme comfort and that a story has permission to go anywhere it wants to…
I’ve never liked the circus much. While I’m mesmerized by the talent and strength of the human performers, as a whole the circus of my childhood leaves me sad. I don’t mind watching it move away. Time will never be a still thing and I’m good with that.
Oh to have a day of nursery fare! I Love Lucy on tv, pjs and my favorite soup with melty cheese crackers on the side. A Jammy day! Jack is good at those. He curls up nearby and gladly helps me part with my cheesey saltines. I confess he stares a lot until the yummies are gone. But eventually he closes his peepers and we both nap. It reminds me of my Mimi. I would stay with her sometimes when my Papa was away at the farm. She was safe then from his hands that could be hurtful.
I could sleep as late as I wanted to in the coziest bed! Mimi grew up in Chicago. She knew how to layer a bed for warmth and comfort. She let me stay in my jammies and eat breakfast on a TV tray. And she taught me to crochet…hand work…to take a tiny bit of yarn and create something beautiful…
Where will this story go. I’m not sure yet. All of mine seem to wander around. I always wonder if I’m hard to follow. Nevertheless, there I am…
I didn’t sleep especially well. I hope today will be a good one and not just for myself. We often hope that don’t we…for a good one…whatever the One happens to be.
Hoping for clear skies and kindness
For moonbeams and sweet dreams
….to always find us…
We hope for ourselves and for others at the same time. There it is again, that time thing, packing up and moving away.
I hope that you can rest, that your pizza will be full of your favorite toppings, that you had a Mimi whose fridge always had sweet tea in it, and that the music will soothe you…
Hope falls somewhere between desire and wishing. It’s the embodiment of who you are and how you love the world. It knows the longing of your soul and writes the words that make it real. Desire paints the masterpiece in your heart, and wishing lights up not only the night sky but the whole world around you.
Hope sort of takes the two, desire and wishing, and builds a bridge between them…lays the stones for the one to reach the other. Beethoven does that with a brilliance I can hardly imagine. Every note he has left us is a symphony of hope. He created movements of beauty in the emptiness between desire and wishing. ….and floods my soul with hope.
Renoir does it too…such stunning joyful colors! Even with my eyes closed, the rubies and emeralds and sapphires take my breath away. And Van Gogh…with his passion filled brush. He welcomes my tears as well as my dancing. Vincent tells me that both are ok, both have a place and a time….His creations are all about the movement of the soul. I can feel his paintings sweeping straight into the depths of my heart…. moving is a lovely thing, taking one and bringing another
Beauty arrives in many a disguise. We have only to open the door and let it cross the threshold bearing its precious gifts. Perhaps for you it comes as Corey Taylor’s voice or Kavanaugh’s poetry or Kokoschka’s art. And that’s all very good. It is as it should be.
Ellie is a pup again when she hears the tin of oatmeal cookies open. Bo is a speed demon to my side when he hears the toaster pop. Jack only and always wants to be near whether there is a favorite snack or not. And Dobby is a master at waiting for my return…from anywhere…even from just down to the mailbox!
I’m grateful for cloudy skies, morning thoughts, soft flannel sheets in the winter, and learning to crochet. The circus is all packed up now. Scrambled eggs and cinnamon toast are waiting for me. This story, if you can call it that, has ventured to all the places that I guess it wanted to go. Permission granted….I’m grateful for that too…
ellie894 July 9, 2019
When I look into the sky
I feel the reassuring blue
Embrace me gently
And the softness of the clouds
Settle in my soul
When I look into the water
I feel the sky there too
And for a moment I forget
That it is water and not sky
Until a dragonfly dips for a sip
Or a faery lands unnoticed
Or a silvery fish
Arises from the depths
In much the same ways
As a raindrop rests on the cloud
Or an eagle soars the breeze
Or a wishing star falls
Into an open heart
The two worlds, a mirror of each other
There are ripples then
That make it seem
That the wind blows
Among the reflected trees
But it doesn’t
They are as serene and peaceful
As they were moments ago
When I remember it is water that I see
I lose myself in wonder
At what magic
Falls and flies within it
That is as yet
Quite invisible to me…
ellie894 July 2, 2019
In East Texas, June air can often be as humid as a rainforest. You pray for it to just let go and rain already. It’s so heavy that I struggle to breathe.
This week hasn’t been that way. The days have had a lovely Novemberish feel to them…inviting me to linger a while…in gentle moments well spent. I have learned much.
Bunnies were born in the yard this week. It began in a frustrating once upon a time, turned into a silly sweet day of caregiving, and finally came to a secure and happy end. I’ll write to you of them soon. Yes, dear Dobby Do was involved.
So, there have been busy hours and not so busy hours, which brings me back to my walking once again….
My breathing changes when I set out to walk each evening. It slows, as do I. To be honest, I don’t walk for exercise. I’m not in a hurry to get anywhere or to do anything in particular.
Forest Bathing is becoming quite a popular thing these days which makes me giggle. It seems I’ve been forest bathing for a long time. Who knew?! I had no fancy name for it or scientific studies to tally up in bar graphs as proof that it was a clever idea. And no, you don’t need soap.
Mostly, it’s about listening…to the trees and the wind…to the birds and the frogs…to the echoes of thoughts in my heart…
In everything there is a longing, to be at peace, to create, to love.
In the wild places everything is a part of the longing and belonging…from the fallen tree to the precious snail. The snail moves as peacefully as a breeze. He pauses often to enjoy the lovely moments…the tiny ones that he knows are worth all the time in the world.
The trees reach ever forth in new creation. Fresh leaves leap into the bluest sky. Fresh roots delve into the deepest earth. Trees create in every which direction from the center of themselves.
And what of love…in the wild places love is everywhere.
Deer keep close to one another in the shade of the sweetgum, listening more carefully than I do for rustling in the leaves. Flowers open in colorful surprise, a gift of last season’s efforts and a whole year’s waiting. Frogs sing to me each afternoon as I blow kisses of goodbye and see ya soon. They probably sing to each other…but it’s nice to imagine it’s for me.
I made cheese ladas this week and had leftover corn tortillas. I shall feed the fish, I thought! No need for waste! The perch were boisterous and seemingly starved! A lone catfish was shy about the whole thing. With time and patience he not only came near but ate straight from my hand. My heart raced in joy!
Then, there was this little turtle. I shall call him Tiny Tim after the turtle in the song that I share with the preschoolers. We giggle and make hand motions and always but always sing it twice…
I have a little turtle
His name is tiny tim
I put him in the bathtub
To see if he could swim
He drank up all the water
Glue glub glub
He ate up all the soap
Nom nom nom
Now he’s home
Sick in bed
With bubbles in his throat
Bubbles bubbles bubbles
Bubbles bubbles pop
Bubbles bubbles bubbles
Bubbles bubbles pop!
Tim adores corn tortillas! He easily dispersed the perch and even tried to scare off the catfish who is at least three times his size! He grabbed the tortilla bites from my hand and swam far enough away to gobble them down before returning for more. We went on like this until there was no more. Plus, the sun was setting and it was time for me to get home.
Each day I arrived with something to share. Each day the lake dwellers came in their own way…especially Tim.
Last night I was awfully tired and there had been bunnies all day and I had run out of corn tortillas. So it was that I arrived at the lake empty handed…
The perch splashed at me in gleeful anticipation. The catfish floated gently back and forth at the edge of the pier waiting for my hand. But Tim….he really gave me the “what for”!
He swam close to the pier and popped up…
What’d ya bring me?
When I didn’t give him anything he swam off a few inches only to return and pop up…
Seriously, what’d ya bring me?
He began to come up and just stare at me…quietly staring…
Other times it seemed he had a voice –
How bout now?
How bout now?
Tiny Tim was relentless.
I giggled at his eager enthusiasm. I was saddened that I was such a disappointment to him. I never realized that he would invite me into his world. I never thought they would all come up to the surface of the water because of me. Of course I know hunger was involved, a longing for nourishment. But still, there I am, wondering. I have learned my lesson and shall definitely be taking something to share when I head out to walk later. I have no desire to spend my evening being stared at again by Tiny Tim.
I know there will be more days like yesterday when I have nothing to give. The fish and the turtles will come anyway. I’m grateful for that. Love is not always about doing. Nor should it be. Love is about simply being.
Whether one calls it Forest Bathing or Listening doesn’t really matter. It may be a flower coming up through a sidewalk crack that reminds you of that time…or a single pot filled with herbs that you will use to create a luscious meal. It may be an ocean or a mountain top or a forest with a lake. It doesn’t have to be a big place. You only have to feel the gift of it.
When you find the wild places, the simple ones…you discover they are filled with longing for peace and creation…and they sweetly overflow with love and belonging….
ellie894 June 15, 2019