Sunday, March 29, 2009

Oceans of beauty

White sand plus a little water is a recipe for digging a deep hole and building hills. Splashing waves of varigated blue with white foam is the background for accents of yellow, orange, red and purple blooming plants. Add a board walk and happy people and you have a lovely Spring day.
Never mind the chilly wind and the conference of jelly fish or the scavenger seagulls. It was a day to remember.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

this is a test

Trying to see if I can send you to my blog.

Save your fork

We children born during the Depression know about saving: saving string, paper, using backs of envelopes for notes. Our mothers saved the best meat for Sunday dinner, we all saved out newest and most freshly washed clothes for church on Sunday. Even our underwear was marked with the days of the week and the traditionalists among us never wore Sunday underpants on Tuesday.
Some of us saved the frosting on cake for last. (The cake that was saved for Sunday.)
My family laughed each Chrismas as my mother called out "Save the bows" during the gift exhange.
Someone told a story of a woman who was buried with a fork in her hand. She had told her pastor she liked it when a waiter would say"Save your fork" because she knew something better was coming.

Dusty Clouds

Ruth Graham wrote a book of poems called "Clouds are the Dust of His Feet." The sky is busy with their puffiness this morning and I try to memorize the shapes of edges and their flow across the blue. Ever changing, they bring contrast and design to the world outside my window.
Change is refresing design and sharpens my outlook.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Liquid Music

Painting along with the Gaither's singing, I let the sweet old hymns permeate my soul, as watercolors blended on my paper. "Stepping in the Light," and songs of going home to Heaven. I halfway prayed "Why didn't you give me the gift of music?" Something inside me said "Look at what you have in your hand. You are making music with a painting of mustard fields and oak trees. They sing to me. "

Friday, March 20, 2009


The birds are back. A pigeon and a small bird I forgot the name of flew into my patio, landed on the same spot where I had put bird seed last summer. the pigeon looked at me as if to say "Where is my food?" New rules here, no bird seed because the squarrels eat it and become pests. I said to the one climbing up the redwood trunk. "It is all your fault"

Spring means new outside projects, like repainting a rusty baker's rack without shelves. The maintenance man promised shelves. Meanwhile-----

Life in a Garden

I am transplanted into a retirement center, learning to live richly in a blend of backgrounds and ethnic cultures. Colorful diversity descibes my friends and neighbors. Smiles and gestures comprise some conversations with those who speak other languages. Adapting to life in close contact with others requires humor and grace. At this stage of life preferences and prejudices wear deep ruts in our souls.

So many lives, an abundance of life experiences and there are stories behind every door. This is my story and I am opening the door.