Today's blog celebrates my mother's old hope chest, which is 100 years old this year. She was given this chest when she turned 16, and little did she know then of the ten children she would raise, or of the many grandchildren and great grandchildren that followed. I admit, I am currently behind in the count.
I was surprised that no one else in the family wanted her hope chest. As furniture goes, I suppose it shouldn't have been a surprise. It is anything but pristine. I remember it sitting in our upstairs, full of blankets and quilts. We sat on it, stood on it as a stage when giving a play, and probably used it as a barrier during rubber band wars. The scratches and dings remind me of our life together, and I view them warmly.
Today the chest holds a quilt made by Mama's mother, Grace Pierce. Hand stitched, it is a beautiful lone star quilt which was once on my wall but is now a bit lumpy and needs rest. It also holds some weavings that I made years ago, some hats and mittens, and a flag or two. The beauty of the chest, however, is that it prompts memories. One hundred years of memories.
Hope Chest
She would have loved
the shoes of grands
and great-grands
huddled around
her battered old
hope chest.
If only she
could hear
their voices...
If, for a
single day,
she could
join us...
catch the aroma
of fresh coffee,
hear the clatter
of pans
on the stove
and a child
practicing piano,
or playing cards
snapping
on the table,
laughter erupting,
whispers of comfort,
shuffling chairs,
a contented sigh after
homemade bread
with butter...
How her eyes would shine.
- Karen Eastlund
It dawns on me that even Mama would be surprised at some of the tales this chest could tell. And then again, maybe it's silence is a treasure also.
Margaret Simon's photo prompt this week set me off to find these photos and write this poem. Thank you Margaret!
It's Poetry Friday at Rose Cappelli's blog... she's sharing poems celebrating spring HERE. Thanks so much for hosting, Rose.
Welcome to our Spiritual Journey for March, 2023. Today I've asked members of the group to write about words they fall back on. I think that many of us have special verses or poems, hymns or quotes that give us strength and encouragement, and act as touchstones.
Frederick Buechner wrote these words about the Power of Language:
I started to sense that words not only convey something, but are something; that words have color, depth, texture of their own, and the power to evoke vastly more than they mean; that words can be used not merely to make things clear, make things vivid, make things interesting and whatever else, but to make things happen inside the one who reads them or hears them.
Another February 14th rolls around, and I send you all my love and Valentine greetings.
This year finds me on a health kick: lots of walking and lots of vegetables. And then, as if to encourage me, one day this happened:
Serendipity
All I did was trim the end of the root. The radish shared serendipitous love!
This is as close to snow as we've had this winter, but no complaints. I like good walking weather.
This Valentine's Day I think I will finally succeed in memorizing a favorite love poem. When was the last time you tried memorization? Brains like a good challenge.
“The fountains mingle with the river, And the rivers with the ocean; The winds of heaven mix forever, With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one another's being mingle:— Why not I with thine?
See! the mountains kiss high heaven, And the waves clasp one another; No sister flower would be forgiven If it disdained its brother; And the sunlight clasps the earth, And the moonbeams kiss the sea:— What are all these kissings worth, If thou kiss not me?”
― Percy Bysshe Shelley
We recently sang an anthem that has such wonderful words, I want to share them here:
Beloved, God's chosen,
put on as a garment
compassion, forgiveness
and goodness of heart.
Above all, before all,
let love be your raiment
that binds into one
every dissonant part.
I love the image of binding into one all our dissonant parts. May it be so.
Again, "Happy Valentine's Day!" Be well, be happy, and shine your light!
Today I'm writing about a vegetable, of all things... with poetry included. Come along if you dare.
Confession: I've become somewhat smitten with rutabagas. I know... what a world!?!
What is a rutabaga? A root vegetable that is an unlikely cross between cabbage and turnip.
Purple turnip on the left is NOT a rutabaga, golden rutabaga is on the right.
Rutabagas are sometimes called swedes because they originated in Sweden and are popular in Scandinavia. Maybe because of our scandinavian background, or maybe because I like vegetables in general, every once in a while I give rutabagas a try.
Reactions to a Rutabaga
You need a huge strong knife
to cleave this brute in two
hard work!
peel and dice
cook until tender
patience!
extra texture
mellow cabbage flavor
a bright star in your stew
--draft, Karen Eastlund
All this rutabaga talk because recently I came across this poem about rutabagas and if felt perfect. Here are a few lines with the link to the entire poem below:
Rutabagas: A Love Poem
by James Silas Rogers
...
Rutabagas were on the table. I had to ask Jean what they were. My first mouthful tasted like something in a gunny sack;
...
She said she loved their dug-up texture the hint of dirt that couldn't be washed away, how they left the tongue with a rumor of something underground and dark.
Okay, so Rogers doesn't exactly endorse them, but I love his description. I had to savor that if nothing else.
I find rutabagas easy on the pocketbook and heavy in the grocery bag. And, it turns out they're very good for you! https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/rutabagas If you decide to try them, let me know!
As an aside, Carl Sandburg wrote Rootabaga Stories for children. I'm going to get them from my library.
What the heck... I'm on a roll with rootabagas!!!
Whew! I'm done with vegetable talk. Heave a sigh of relief! Have a laugh and a good week!
It is Poetry Friday, and you can find the whole gang at Carol Varsalona's. Don't miss her stunning collection of poetry postcards!
"Blue... blue was a color so splendid..." - Joe Newberry
Our host this month, Robert Hamera, asks us to consider the colors we project to others, or the colors that act as guiding lights to us. Look for Robert's post and links to others in the Spiritual Journey group HERE.
I taught preschool for a number of years, and I loved the preschool classroom. It was a wonderful learning experience for me, as well as a great joy and a deep responsibility. One of my most enduring realizations was that I was responsible for the tone of the classroom. I knew that children needed to feel safe so that they could take risks and learn, so I tried to provide a safe and calm learning space. And the color I most associate with calm is blue.
I am drawn to color, and greatly affected by it. For me, blues are always at the top of the list. I often wear blue, and blue is a theme in my home. I like to think of bluejeans... they're comfortable and go with everything, right? That's what I want my home and my classroom to reflect. I want to do real work in these spaces, and I might get messy, so bluejeans will be perfect.
I've been told that I project calm when working with children, and I hope I have also projected it in my home. And along with calm is also wonder and joy. Blues suggest all these qualities.
Above: Starry Night quilt for my granddaughter Gracie
There's beauty in blue. Consider the sky, from morning to night. Where better to feel calm and wonder than gazing into the great beyond? I once saw such a gorgeous blue night sky that I could scarcely stop staring at it and pay attention to my walk home. I haven't been able to name that deep blue, but it captivated me and enveloped me, and I still think about it even though it must have been 30+ years ago.
I love the beauty and surprise of morning glories, the shock of deep blue lobelia (some volunteered in my garden this past summer!) and the chalky blue of globe thistles. I have relaxed in the deep blue of clear lakes and laughed at the twinkle in my father's blue eyes. I am thankful to live on a blue planet where even the ice and snow reflect blue.
Blue may also suggest sadness. We all experience and express sadness, often with tears, words and music. Blue can be both calm and buoyant, a perfect hue to bear our emotions. Below is a blues song I enjoy, especially for its wordplay. Joe Newberry wrote it, and he tells that the whole first line came to him while waiting in line at the post office. He wrote the words on the back of a Christmas card envelope, so someone didn't get a card from him that year. He's accompanied by April Verch. Enjoy!
I agree with Joe's first line, but I have to change the tense of his verb. Blue IS a color "so splendid."
Along with blue, if I look in my closet, I see red, red, red. My second favorite color. But that's a story for another day.
Thanks for hosting today, Robert, and for this interesting prompt!
Welcome to Poetry Friday, a tradition started by Renee La Tulippe and explained HERE.
Today I am sharing on the topic of dawn. A new year is dawning, and that's probably reason enough, but "dawn" kept popping up this week... if you'll excuse the pun... and I decided to write about it.
I'm a fan of Diane Ackerman's writing and had read two of three of her books before I came across Dawn Light: Dancing with Cranes and other ways to Start the Day. The title spoke to me becauseI'm fascinated by the in-betweens, when I can't tell day from night, or green from blue. Also, cranes are on my bucket list. So I ordered the book and read just one entry about a winter dawn before being hooked. Here she writes about a winter sky:
An opalescent sky becomes the stinging blue of mosque tiles or stage scenery. It's an azure blue, from the ancient word for lapis lazuli, the intense blue mineral flecked with gold that has emblazoned church and palace walls since antiquity. Polished lapis gives soul to mosaic, including dawn's chimeras of jumbled outlines, blurred edges, and phantom forms. We bundle up but trees go naked in winter. I've always loved the way sky is captured in their bare limbs. Held by the delicate tracery of twigs, sky resembles light pouring through leaded stained-glass windows.
If you enjoy beautiful writing, especially nature writing, I highly recommend Diane Ackerman. I know I will love the rest of Dawn Light. It was my first dawning of the week.
The second dawn came from Margaret Simon, who shared a photo prompt by Mary C. Howard this week. It's actually a sunset photo, but I wrote about it as a sunrise... a dawn. My poem is below.
As if these two dawns weren't enough, a friend named Dawn contacted me and offered help for some town projects! It dawns on me that I am richly blessed.
Thanks to Marcie Flinchum Atkins for hosting today. You can find her blog and the links to other Poetry Friday friends HERE.
Life has been a whirlwind lately, so this is my first post of 2023, writing with my Spiritual Journey writing group. Thanks to Margaret Simon for organizing our group, and for providing this lovely new logo:
Our group tradition has been to choose One Little Word as our spiritual companion for the year. I've decided on "beauty" as my word for 2023. I've been interested in the concept of beauty for some years, and it finally came to me that perhaps beauty has a spiritual component. Beauty comes in many forms, and it fascinates me how our concept has changed over time, and also that we each have an individual sense of it. I hope I can find a way to tie the concept of beauty to my spiritual practice.
One of my loves is young children, and I find great beauty in their innocence and joy. I hope you can indulge me as I share just a few of my friends and family.
I remember a story, I think from Madeline L'Engle: A young child, maybe 3 or 4 years old, wanted to be left alone with the new baby in the family. Her parents were nervous, afraid the older sibling might be jealous of the new baby, and might do harm. When the parents finally allowed the older child to be alone with the baby, they watched as she sat with the new one, studying the newborn. Later the parents asked why she had needed to be alone with the baby. "I was forgetting what God was like."
To see the beauty of God in a child is just one of many ways we experience beauty. We feel the beauty of spirit when we noticecourage, love, patience, self-control, kindness and more.
1 Peter 3:4 encourages us:
Cultivate inner beauty, the gentle, gracious kind that God delights in.
Of course we also see beauty in the world, in music, in art, and in many unexpected places.
So, I hope to continue sharing my year with beauty, and I hope that each of you will share your responses and sources of beauty as we go along.
