Weekend Coffee Share (1/15/17)

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#WeekendCoffeeShare is graciously hosted by Diana at ParttimeMonsterBlog.com.


If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that the snow from last week is lingering on. There’s been no new snowfall, but temperatures have remained too cold for much of it to melt. With only my dog Chules and me accessing my fenced yard, it is still relatively pristine and white. I like the way it reflects light – both by day and night – and makes everything seem brighter and more cheerful.

The US will have a new president as of the end of this week, and I am not alone in dreading what that might mean for the future of human rights and ecological preservation. Or, for that matter, ecological rights and human preservation. There’s not enough snow anywhere that can make the current political scene appear cheerful and bright.

I’ve been dealing with a general sense of anxiety and malaise for the past couple of weeks. It’s been frustrating not to be able to tie it into any specific source; having nothing I could pinpoint and say this is the reason I am feeling unease. With an unknown cause, it becomes more challenging to deal with the effect.

But maybe my subconscious has been wrestling with the apprehension of what the future holds as fundamental values and mores are being gutted in our society. Maybe the anxiety is born of a sense of helplessness, while at the same time knowing that the “help” has to come from within me. And within you.

I didn’t intend to be all doom and gloom when I sat down to write this. Maybe I need to forego the rest of my coffee and get outside to play with my dog in the bright sun and cheerful snow. It won’t make the world’s problems go away, but it will boost my spirits. And that might be just what I need to move from helplessness to hopefulness; from despair to decisiveness; from inertia to activism.

Snow angels, anyone?

The Ambiance of Campfire Smoke

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While the focus (pun intended, sort of) of the weekly photo challenge is – go figure – photos, this week’s theme of “ambiance” reminded me of a post I wrote 3½ years ago for one of my prior blogs. I’m posting a portion of it here. With photos, of course.

From July 2012:

… As we approached our camping destination, my daughter and I began to see signs on the road advertising campfire wood for sale. We stopped at one location, where a trailer was parked next to the road, holding wood that had been packaged into bundles.

A lock box for collecting money was secured to the trailer, and a sign listed the price per bundle and also advised us that we were “on camera” (apparently in case we intended to defy the honor system). We paid for two bundles of wood, loaded them into our car and continued on our way.

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After pitching our tent, we wandered around the camp for a while and as it grew cool in the late afternoon, the mosquitoes began feeding. It was time to build a fire. I set about the task, scrunching up some newspaper we had brought, loosely placing scraps of kindling wood over the top of that, and selecting a few of the most promising pieces of firewood to set on top.

I touched a match to it and watched as little flames consumed the paper and made their way onto the kindling. Most of the flames burned out within a couple of minutes, but one tenacious little flicker remained at the base of one log. I sent it good vibes, willing it to spread.

My daughter watched me standing there staring at the flame and asked, “Have you done this before?” I realized that I hadn’t. “Aren’t you supposed to do something more to it?” I assured her that it just needed a little time to get going, and I continued to watch as the flicker dwindled into a wisp of smoke.

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More paper, more kindling, a lot of rearrangement for best combination of air circulation and proper wood contact. More matches. More attentive scrutiny, and finally we had a fire. Mission accomplished.

Throughout the evening, as we sat watching the mesmerizing flames and talking, we would pause to consult as to whether the logs needed to be pushed together, whether it was time to add a log to the fire and if so, what the proper placement should be. What had begun as an initial chore to get this whole campfire thing rolling was turning into a continually evolving process of the ebb and flow of flames, the balance and timing in feeding the fire… a delicate dance with nature’s elements.

And, lest we begin waxing too poetic, a lot of smoke in our eyes. It was absorbing, in a good way. And fun.

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After returning home from our trip, I conducted a Google search on campfire building which yielded over 7 million results. Techniques, tips, step by step instructions, words of wisdom from scoutmasters and even from Smokey the Bear (I had a crush on him when I was a kid).

I had not thought to look up any of this information before setting out on our trip because it never dawned on me that I didn’t really know how to build a campfire. Had we been on some sort of survivalist outing in the Alaskan wilderness in the dead of winter, this oversight wouldn’t have been a good thing. But as it was, it was refreshing to figure something out on our own, with a little trial and error, a little contemplation, a cooperative effort, and yeah, probably some sheer luck thrown in.

Maybe I need to learn to trust myself a little more, to savor the process in activities rather than only focusing on the outcome, to stop and smell the… smoke?

I’m looking forward to the next time. Maybe we’ll discover something else we didn’t know we couldn’t do.


The Daily Post weekly photo challenge: Ambience

bouquet

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someday
I will be old

and the shadows my long life casts
will reflect the youth and vibrancy
that once coursed through
the vessels of my soul

and though withered
and drained of color
and grown brittle with time and wear

there will still be a beauty
to the shape and form
grown from many years of
life lessons rained upon me
and the energizing warmth
of unwavering love shown to me

and I will stand proud and content
but mostly thankful
as I face the sun
until it sets


The Daily Post daily prompt: Someday

Polaroid

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“How do you open this darn thing? I can never remember.”

Someone finds the button, and the black box pops open into an odd wedged shape.

“There! Is there film in it?”

“Dunno. Take a picture and find out.”

“Oh, alright. You girls, stand over there! By the hearth.”

With a bit of jostling, the girls obediently shuffle into place and assume the pose: arms wrapped around one another in a display of sisterly love. They look toward the camera and smile.

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“Now smile.”

They spread their grins even wider.

Snap. Flash. Hiss.

The camera spits out a white-bordered card with a milky greenish-brown square in the center. The photo hangs where it exited, just short of falling to the ground. The picture taker dislodges the print and sets in on the coffee table.

“There! Let’s see what we’ve got.”

We circle around the table and watch as ghostlike images begin to rise from the murky Polaroid. Soon we can make out the features of the girls, and as the photo continues to develop, we see that one of the girls’ eyes were closed when the picture was snapped. Oh, well.

The print is a bit blurry, too dark, and the subjects are not framed properly. Typical. Someone notes the date on the wide bottom border, and there it is: a posed moment in time that documents a birthday, holiday, new dresses, or maybe just the changes from year to year as the girls grow and mature.

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The captured moment goes in a shoebox where many others have been collected, and it turns into another memory to be pulled out and sorted and enjoyed for years to come.

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It is shared by passing it from hand to hand. It is cropped with scissors if one wishes, but that’s not likely to happen. The highlights are enhanced by tilting the photo toward the nearest window or lamp, and the image is sharpened by adjusting one’s bifocals into better focus.

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I sift through my shoebox now and again — probably more often than the girls realize — and the photos always make me smile.

Truth be told, I wouldn’t trade my Polaroids for all the Photoshopping in the world.

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The photos above were most likely taken by a variety of relatives. Unfortunately I cannot assign individual credits. 


The Daily Post Discover Challenge: Transcript

Change is Afoot; Change is Ahead

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Two years ago I began a blog about my favorite pastime, stained glass. In my first post, I indicated that the blog, Glass Manifestations, would be about:

“glass (sort of) because working with glass is how I do a lot of my processing (thoughts, feelings, ideas, inspirations…), and hence a lot of my thoughts, feelings and ideas are made manifest in my art. But… also about insight and growth, in the hope that what I manifest tomorrow, or next week or next year – in life as well as in glass – will continue to improve. In quality, in meaningfulness, and in pure, simple pleasure.”

A month into the blog, I signed up for a WordPress Blogging U course on writing poetry. With the very first assignment, I realized that my poetry attempts might not fit into my Glass blog theme of insight and growth and meaningfulness.

Nope. That first poem was about leaky water faucets and dental floss. I decided I needed a different venue where I could express those random, ridiculous and totally irrelevant thoughts that obviously didn’t get the “meaningfulness” memo. Hence, What Rhymes with Stanza came into being.

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In the two years since, my Stanza blog has grown and expanded beyond poetry to where now I express my random, silly and possibly meaningful thoughts through photography, prose, embellished conversations amongst animals, and sometimes art.

The Glass blog, in the meantime, just wasn’t as fun a place to hang out for me. And so the blog languished in neglect.

With the new year, I’ve done a bit of reassessing about my blogs and have decided to combine the two, moving some of the material from the withering glass blog over to this site. Hopefully that will occur seamlessly and behind the scene, so long as I don’t confuse the export/import process with the reblog function. (If you see fifty new posts from me in a single day, you’ll know I failed.)

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This blog-meld won’t change the Stanza site to any significant degree. You’ll likely see more posts about stained glass and art, and I’ve added a gallery of my glass work for those of you who care to look. Other than that, you can expect my usual deep and evocative take on what chickens discuss when no one else is around, fascinating tips on how not to handle home improvement projects, copious photos of my pets, and maybe even a poem or two.

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I’m looking forward to a fun, random, insightful, meaningful year! I hope you stick around to share it with me.