ashen sky reflects
in puddles while I reflect
on summer shadows
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Shadow
hidden sun
6
Author Archives: Maggie C
Wordless Wednesday 2/8/17
Image
quick note
Dear Humanity:
Just wanted to share this day.
Lovingly, The Earth
The Daily Post one-word prompt: Lovingly
sostenuto
craft your song wisely
the tune you play today may
echo throughout time
CB&W challenge: music
The Daily Post one-word prompt: Craft
cycle of faith
shoots push through the frost
trusting nature’s promise that
spring will soon arrive
Weekend Coffee Share (2/4/17)
#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.
If we were having coffee, I would tell you I’m feeling conflicted this morning. When I take part in the “Weekend Coffee Share,” I literally sit down with my morning cup of coffee and share what’s on my mind. I don’t preplan a topic and I sometimes surprise myself with what comes out.
Today, my mind is on so many things, I don’t know which of them I want to write about. I want to be lighthearted and talk about the Super Bowl, and post photos of my dog, and tell you about my latest DIY home impairment project.
But… I’m also thinking about how the country in which I reside is imploding. The saying, “It’s like watching a train wreck,” comes to mind. The destruction happens almost as though in slow motion, car by car by car (or day by day), and even though it’s hard to watch, you just can’t seem to look away.
I’d love to unplug from the media and ignore all the politics. I’d love to try and remain apolitical. And I feel strangely guilty for being “inconsiderate” in “harping” on my “opinions.” For being a malcontent, when I imagine my readers here or my “friends” on Facebook would rather read something humorous or warm and fuzzy.
But I read something yesterday that basically said that ignoring the declining conditions in the world – ecological, economical, political, ethical — is a luxury that only the privileged in life can afford. Or think they can. Major paraphrasing there, but that’s what I got out of it.
Of course, once a (literal) train wreck starts, you can’t stop it, and maybe we shouldn’t look away. Maybe we need to witness it, look for our own culpability, be there to help pick up the pieces and offer aid in the aftermath.
The metaphorical train wreck can be stopped, and I think we have an obligation to do what we can, to witness what is happening, to look for our own culpabilities and be there to help. It’s not fun by any means. It doesn’t sit well with morning coffee and croissants. It may seem overwhelming.
Or it may all sound like hyperbole. Like Chicken Little running around fretting that the sky is falling. I would still suggest we not look away, because there’s that other fable about the boy who cried wolf. One day the wolf was really there, and no one saw it coming.
And so I leave you with a warm and fuzzy photo of my dog Chules and his anticipation of the Super Bowl, and the humorous suggestion that he is looking bummed because his toy football has been a victim of Deflategate. And I’m off to work on my DIY home impairment project and make the most of today.
There must be a fable somewhere about finding hope amidst the storm.
table for one
too early for most
city park in quietude
for now it is mine
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Solitude
preaching to the choir
Sincere words of courage and wisdom
solicit resounding amens from the choir loft,
and hallelujahs that reverberate
through vacant pews and empty stares.
The familiar message inspires those
who came to sing along, and though
not having fallen on deaf ears, it nonetheless
does not reach the ears of its hoped-for audience.
A lackluster congregation adjourns
to the fellowship hall to await dispensation of
the promised coffee, cake and cookies.
But the coffee is cold, the cake is stale,
and the cookies have raisins
instead of chocolate chips.
And so it’s no wonder that,
after the uplifting words
heard by none save the choir,
the good folk in the fellowship hall
see no recourse other than a
coffee-splashing,
cookie-hurling, and
oh-so-ungodly
food fight.
Let the Congress say…
amen.
Couldn’t Resist
Weekend Coffee Share (1/28/17)
#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.
Women’s March in Portland, OR
If we were having coffee I would tell you it hasn’t been a very productive week. My kitchen is still completely torn up from my DIY remodel. The rest of the house looks like a tornado passed through; a tornado with lots and lots of white fur. And I’m tired of subsisting on frozen dinners because my range is covered by a drop cloth and a grand array of hand tools.
Of course, all of that is totally under my control to change if I just managed to get up off my derriere and do something about it. Okay, I admit I’ve been binge-watching Haven on Netflix. And going to visit my grandkids. Oh, and then there was that little march thing on Saturday. Maybe you heard about it: the Women’s March?
For someone who even has trouble being in a crowded grocery store (no joke), it was a bit daunting to be walking shoulder to shoulder among 100,000 people in the streets of Portland, OR. But in a last minute text, my daughter asked me if I would go with her.
I wrote back, “No. I can’t,” and as I paused to consider how to phrase the notion that I wouldn’t be able to handle the crowds and it would be too overwhelming to be out and about like that, I looked at what I had written. “No. I can’t.”
And I thought to myself, “Yes. I can.” It would be difficult and challenging, and maybe even completely overwhelming, and I might have to leave as soon I got there. But yes, I could at least try.
So I deleted those two words, and instead wrote, “Sure.” And we went. And I survived. And I’m glad I showed up. And I’m glad the other 99,999 people showed up as well.
Portland PD monitoring the Women’s March 1.21.17
Did we make a difference? Yes, I think we did. It made a difference for me. In me. It made me challenge my “no I can’t” beliefs, not only about my anxieties, but about my ability to help effect positive change in a country that so sorely needs that right now. I’m glad I went. I’m glad my daughter extended the invitation, even though she probably expected my response to be, “No, I can’t.”
I still don’t plan on going to the grocery store, at least not until my freezer full of entrees needs replenishing. And I don’t know if I will ever join another march. But I did it, and – dare I say – I’m proud.
Now I just need to apply my “can do” energy to house work and kitchen remodeling tasks. But first I’m going to nuke something from the freezer for lunch, and then play with my dog just in case he hasn’t shed enough fur on the furniture. Oh, and then I’ll be visiting my grandkids this afternoon.
Seems I’m just too busy to be productive! Maybe next week…
Body Dump
After multiple seasons of chipping my lawnmower blade on a chunk of concrete protruding from the grass at the very edge of my property, I decided one day to dig the offending obstruction out of the ground.
I grabbed a shovel and set to it. The more I dug, however, the more I found. Ultimately, I discovered I had come upon the burial site of a heavy concrete birdbath — pedestal and all – chunked into several pieces. Kind of like a victim in a creepy ax murder movie, only with cement dust instead of blood. More than I had bargained for, at any rate.
I loaded the pieces into my wheelbarrow and dumped them next to my driveway until I could figure out a way to get rid of the body – er, I mean birdbath. After a few months of staring at the rubble, I came up with a plan. I would hide the body in plain sight!
I had dug up a circular section of turf in the middle of my yard several months previously, admittedly with no clue as to how I was going to incorporate it into my landscape theme (or lack thereof). Keep the neighbors guessing, I always say.
So here I had this garden-like circular space and these rock-like concrete chunks. What better way to kill two birds with one birdbath, than to combine the garden and the rocks to build a rock garden!
Of course, I don’t really know how to make a rock garden, but I lined the circle area with the concrete chunks, and then planted a shrub in the middle for good measure. Maybe shrubs don’t belong in rock gardens, and maybe the rock garden will morph into something else over time. Apparently it’s not just the neighbors whom I confound with my actions; I have no clue either as to what I’m doing.
I think I’ve pulled off disguising the birdbath corpse, though. At least there haven’t been any robins or sparrows in long black overcoats and fedora hats pulled low over their eyes knocking at my door.
I wonder what else I will uncover as I continue my random landscape projects. I’m thinking of tearing down the old shed behind my house… what do you suppose lies hidden beneath that?
The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Repurpose
What Rhymes with Stanza? 