One Bright Day…

“One bright day, in the middle of the night.

Two dead boys stood up to fight.

Back-to-back, they faced each other.

Drew their swords and shot each other.

The deaf policeman heard the noise,

Came and killed the two dead boys.

If you don’t believe what I say is true,

Ask the blind man, he saw it too.”


I do not know if this is an excerpt or complete recitation of a poem.

I learned the verse in childhood.

I cannot tell you who wrote it, or from what era it comes from, and not sufficiently curious enough to research in order to know for certain – if you do know, or wish to know, have at it and feel free to leave your findings or knowledge in the comment section.  I have no need to research, for I think the basic truths are there for anyone to comprehend.

Dad was also rather fond reciting his version of a Pogo quote:

I have spotted the enemy – They is Us.


Dad lived the verse and the quote

So many years later, I think the reason I remember the verse and quote is due to Dad’s frequency with recitation of them.

When he saw others stumbling along lost

When he recognized his own blindness,

When he knew not if Now came about through his own obliviousness or that of those around him or the world he inhabited…

He recited, shared, repeated.


Today reminded me of both verse and quote.

Tonight, I’m still unsettled – and I can hear my dad’s voice intoning that which I already am familiar with.

It is not easy to face yourself back-to-back.

I do promise not to draw my sword and shoot myself –

Basic sword smithing and combat is on the “Learn How-To List”  for 2020

Thus, I and the world should be safe for another 3 years or so – you know how clumsy I can be 🙂

Silent Night

Lest you be disillusioned into believing me seduced into the never-ending spread of The Season into bordering portions of the year,

Rest easy.

Tonight I share with you not words of Christmas, perfection, the good will of mankind, peace on Earth or even, a fail-proof, in 5 minutes or less, recipe for those who, like me, are hopeless in the arena of quick breads, sweets and treats.

Nor shall I climb upon my soap box, to expound upon the insane frenzy of the commencing shopping season, give a reminder that, saying No sometimes gifts both the giver and the recipient, or even to murmur, “Money can’t buy happiness…”

(It can buy such trifles as shelter, food, heat, medicine… and only those who have never had to choose between such as these four as to which shall be the priority for the next few days, weeks, months,  dare to utter the words, “Money isn’t everything, you know.” without adding, “but, my, doesn’t it come in handy sometimes?”)

Instead, I share with you a story of my salvation.

Which occurs many times, every year…

In various forms and ways.

Tonight, I logged in to announce another celebration:

Silent Night has returned.

The Quilt of Winter Comfort has finally arrived in my neck of the woods, to lay over and comfort my tired and weary soul.

So quick was the restoration of me, in wake of the “temperature & moisture falling” tonic, I and Oakley raced to the front yard.

To Dance

An activity which,  to the casual observer, looks similar to a game of keep-away or me being herded towards some imaginary gate, over yonder – take your pick and you shan’t go wrong, no matter what you choose…)

We didn’t dance as the recent full moon trekked through our space – we quietly walked out of doors to gaze in wonder at the beauty of it- the tide of our feminine spirits pulled to awaken in the middle of the night (aka “o’dark thirty”)

(okay, I confess to lying half-awake in bed, bemoaning my achey body, with Oakley dutifully pacing, nudging, URGING me to awaken enough to join her in paying homage and granting a moment of respect, contemplation and reverence to the huntresses in our respective pasts, who depended upon the full moon’s sway and light, to guide the way to sustenance.

But we did dance and play, tonight.

In relief for some sort of moisture falling from the sky and a return of the brand of order we are used to for this season.  Who ever heard of wanting to use the A/C in November, for goodness sakes?

And who ever heard of wondering if any winter gardening activities should or should not take place while most of the trees still carry their leaves?

That’s IT!

I shall boldly plant Zone 7 & 8 perennials next July – in a control plot, rather sheltered from the wind, but all the same – I SHALL!

Just for the experience of it.  To remind me of my brilliance and/or lunacy – we shall see which way it plays out.

After Our Snow Dance

I remembered to grab the camera – and with shaky hands from yet another long day of this and that – and perhaps a smidge of chill from dancing in the snow, sans shoes or shirt…

(I jest, surely… or maybe not… 🙂 I’ll let you know if Oakley was sans or I – someday ….)

I snapped some quick pics of our surrounding space and the dear friends occupying it –

A Slice of Now & Here

The beloved Charlie Brown Christmas Tree, that I cannot bear to cut down, no matter how it doesn’t work with my 5-year plan, south side, year-round cottage garden, layout, and may struggle to put up with me, but does not struggle with my space – it continues on in it’s imperfect form, in spite of mismanagement, guilt & pity from me, careless deliveries of pallets/dumpsters by young men who cannot see the Charlie Brown in their windshield, review/side mirrors or their soul, just yet –

Yes, Charlie Brown tree struggles (or not, whadda I know?) year in, year out and is too much of a survivor to be cut down simply for  ‘lack of pretty normalcy or conformity”.

live charlie brown tree

The Grandfather Ponderosa Pine Tree that is ‘condominium living’ for my local furry & feathered friends.  Apparently, Grandfather needs a haircut in order for his immediate neighborhood to qualify for insurance.

The new insurance provider is shocked and dismayed that photos of place to be insured reveal that two baby branches, less than 1/2 in diameter, brush up to kiss the northeast soffit/roof line.

Heaven to Betsy!  What a Huge Risk!  Must trim/alleviate the potential for damage, I am informed.

(I didn’t give vent to my feelings during the live conversation, so I simply must tell you now – it took every ounce of my will power not to sarcastically intone for the next 15 minutes or so, what would happen to this house/neighborhood  should the Yellowstone Caldera blow or a summer storm morph into the Finger of God (tornado).

There!  I feel better – that unspoken spiel has been building within me the past few weeks – Confession is good for the soul, is it not? )


The Dryland Garden area where last spring, Rhubarb flourished and the Summer of Iris and Robin were forever engraved upon my mind and heart.


The hardy transplanted lilac seedlings of 2013 prosper, and have compact branches full of leaves -still – It has not been cold enough for the shrubbery to feel good about disrobing, I guess…

You can’t easily make out the lilacs – but, like the amateur who cannot explain their joke enough to draw a laugh, I only tell you they are there, in middle of the picture, and shall refrain from  putting in a yellow arrow to focus your eyes on just one more dark area in a blurry blob of photography failure – 🙂  But isn’t that sliver of light interesting?  Which is why I added this fail to the post – 🙂



A picture of the ‘long dead, should be cut down’ tree at the corner, that eerily reminds me of artwork photoshopped for the shamanic journey experience that prompted the Garden Within post, oh-so-long ago –

Can you make out the wreath, surrounding its’ trunk?

Roots shoot forth, each spring. One more chance for the tree soul  to embrace Life in the Sun.

Dead Tree, surrounded by live seedlings

Blurred Pictures for a year that passed in a Blur.

No picture, post, poem or novel could ever fully capture and do justice to what is in my mind and heart, just now, as I try mightily to share with you, just a glimpse, of my world.


I will simply start to close with a picture of Oakley girl, shortly after we came indoors.

See the bits of snow still clinging to her coat?  See the carpet that is now vacuumed regularly, but still cluttered with piles of “to organize, put back” stacks from this year’s remodeling and transitioning work?


Oh, Wait!

You can’t ‘see’, but rest assured, directly to the left (or west) of the below captured  frame, lies a clutter corner – which may or may not be cleared out before company arrives on Saturday –

I’m ready to put the ‘we come to see you, not your house” and ‘we will help you get stuff done if we can just come (visit/home)- don’t stress yourself” to test.

Okey-Dokey then, crockpot suppers, cluttered corners, scheduled chaos,  are my version of:

“Ta-Da! I didn’t stress myself!   Whaddya Think?  Still happy to be here?”



The season to rest, dream and plan for yet another next year….  A time for gathering, sharing stories, catching up, eating comfort food in all it’s glorious winter forms – food to make up for all the meals you missed during busy season – and to put on a layer of ‘padding’ to keep you warm in January/February and later, burn off in lieu of meals missed next busy season.


Tonight, I celebrate the spectrum of Winter Holidays.

You know how I love the minutes of life – Those moments in time that call for celebration and dancing.

Perhaps,  I was busy, or I might be busy, ‘doing’, when other calendar/moon dates arrive – so why not Be Happy and Do Dancing, right here, right now, to celebrate eternity?

For every celebration, still to come or this in the past – I give thanks – for me, us, you.

Why? and Why Not?

…are Daily Questions & Quests,  here, I confess.

I must bid you adieu, for now –

So I might eat, ponder and then lay me down to rest –

…just as soon as I clean up the ground mulching/watering portions of Silent Night Oakley and I managed to track back into the house….

(Please DO NOT express shock and or dismay,  when I wish you Happy New Year, Independence Day or Harvest Home tomorrow, or next week or some bizarre day in February, when the sun shines warm, the earth sheds its blanket and I think it’s time to once more, give thanks for the gifts that show up without a calendar, prediction and or officially declared & decreed ‘moment’  🙂  It is rather, all the same to me, this call to celebrate and dance, here and there, as the mood strikes – and every time I experience….

well….. “IT” –

Yet another holiday is written upon and logged within my mind and soul.)

Happy Silent Night – For now and always.

Writers of The Plains

Well, howdy, community – Yes, I went MIA again. No, nothing is wrong…

Below is a link to the library newsletter on just one of the projects I’ve been working on in my local community – a local Writing Group!

So far, we have 2 poets, 2 journalists, 2 freelance magazine articles writers, one tech writer and 2 educators/classic & antique book preservers – 🙂  Ages of interested folks range from 17 to 76.

Some with publishing credits, others with none – some with a drawer full of rejection letters, others with agents – some wingin’ it on their own, other’s posting their works for free use with attribution – 🙂

I can’t wait for our first, official meet-up – and who knows?

Can you say self-published anthology of the anatomy of an eccentric & diverse group?   LOL

Here’s the first broad scoped newsletter I put together with resources/ideas – notice how I displayed various links for these fine folks to find their way to you – – 🙂

Writer’s of the Plains November Newsletter

TGIF and may your weekend be grand.  If you’re in the States, may you survive next Tuesday.



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