The Ribbon Walk

I went out early to walk to the park. Further than I have any business walking to, but largely 'impressive' to those who know me, (haha). Alas I would have you, my true blue blogger pals, know the trick behind this treat. Meanwhile, once I discovered I'd have to walk a half mile to get there, I became scared. Ooh, what if someone ran me down on the highway... what would I do? Yes, I know, I might darn near lay there bleeding to death. Worse still the impact might crush my bag of “Cheetos” @R. The birds would flock over my head, encircling my bag and squawk, “let go of the bag, lady.” (Oh bother). Well nothing so dramatic happened; I drove my van to the little parking lot. Jumped out with the energy of a spry 50 year old, (haha). Took in a deep breathe of the wondrous air and began choking and coughing. After seeing all the birds awake and fly off, I settled down for a nice pace through the woods... and that delicious trail called “The Ribbon Walk”. (Don't ask me, as I've no idea why it's called that.) The light was just ahead upon the trail, and I knew the happy moment was in my sight. I put my little ace-ladder chair on the ground... sat down, and focused the old digital camera. I pressed the button that says, “T” for telephoto... and my picture tells the rest of the story! (No, I did't walk that far... what about bears and stuff? What about ticks falling from the trees? What about the jacket I left in the van?) It was great! Thanks, Dixie

Autumn scent

I love the smell of the leaves
in the Autumn as they fall
as they die. I watch the wind give them flight, then
land on the ground.
Resting with a crunching sound.

Leaves carried north, carried south,
and swarming 'round my feet, as
a faint fireplace in the distance
gives scent to burning wood.
The two scents blend and it feels good.

Thanks you, Dixie

It occupies my time~

Every morning I go to my special desk where I write articles for the blog. Sometimes I eek out a poem or two. Before you know it I'm looking around the yard, through the window, and my mind becomes occupied by the tasks I want to do. I close my notebook and head to the yard with gloves in hand. Even when it rains I want to be outside.

My blessing is 1.20 acres of land. There's room for a full size garden. There's a large forest and I've been through it; it's wonderful with every tree you can imagine. There's a gazebo where the squirrels climb on top to let me know who's the boss! From the very high pinnacle they shake their bushy tails as if to say: "We've got this covered, move along!"

I've a list that needs doing before winter and I'm working hard to get it done. Most of it is a lot of fun. Keep me in your prayers or meditations.

Thank you, Dixie

Pumpkin spice

Traveling vines across the grounds
Waiting for the sun above
Springing forth without a sound
Pumpkin spice is what I love

And so I wait until they're grown
Golden orbs look mighty fine
I pluck them off to take the home
That pumpkin spice will soon be mine

The house is filled with awesome smell
That lasts for days and feels so nice
Of all the memories I know so well
There's nothing like the pumpkin spice

Before there was you, there was me ~

I was born and all alone
In the world I traveled
Off to places in my head
Then one day I met you

There was freedom everywhere
There was life without a care
Life without a care

You arrived and I was thrilled
Company to travel onward
Off to places in our heads
Then one day a clash

My emotions choked the air
You had none you wished to share
None you wished to share

That is when I turned away
Walked alone but felt content
I took the lesson that I learned
And chose the path of joy



[{Ciao, baby}]

She ain't right, but she's friendly.

A couple of my blog buddies have decided I'm a friendly blogger. The award comes with a sweet little picture. That's definitely me; I love sweet little pictures! More than that – I love my blogging friends – they make me look at my path, via humour or serious input. Without them I might not be the seriously insane, yet friendly blogger you've been exposed to.

David of “A Day in the Life,” blog was very kind in his assessment of my attitude. “Friendly is as friendly does.” Certainly he and I have connected on various subjects that need more attention in the world, beginning at our on doorstep. I admire his writing and the life experiences he brings to the table for our understanding. Thank you, David.

Gary of “klahanie,” blog is the second blogging pal to give me the “Friendly Blogger Award.” His variety in writing styles keeps me gussing: what will he do next? Then ofcourse his smallish dog, Penny, is quite pawsitively he's greatest asset. Stories told from her perspective loom large among the various bloggers. ~And did I mention humour? This one writer brings out the funny bone and beats me with it. Thank you, Gary.

I've never met an ugly blogger. They all seem friendly to me. Even the person that keeps sending advertisements for 'Viagra,' seems friendly enough. Please note, I have nothing for 'viagra' to work on... you're wasting the ad!

I've forgotten how to do links. If you like my blog and you read it, whenever I get around to posting an article, please consider yourself AWARDED. The nicest thing, the friendliest thing is having someone give some attention to your life... especially days when I've forgotten me.

~dcrelief

Goodbye Summer

Here... on the beach... I rest from ocean's waves.
All the noisy people have left and I can sleep... Zzz.

Hey! ... who's that touching my little arm? Number 3 of 5?
What? ... where are you taking me, I'm sleeping can't you see?

Uh-oh, uh-oh, I'm flying through the air!!
The kid thinks I'm a Frisbee; come back and get your kid!!!

Way over here... still upon the beach... the waves a little closer.
Yet life is good and all my arms are here...(yawn) time to go to sleep... Zzz.

I got nothing.

I got nothing. It's a blank page tonight, and we're hoping to find my ink tomorrow.

Life has been like a sound stage and I have no clue what 'exit right' means. Did I tell you, I got nothing?

Count 'em; I got 47 billion brain cells waiting to be used... but the pilot light went out about a week back... and I got nothing!!

On my digital camera there are new photos of the torture we're putting the yard through. If “a picture is worth a thousand words,” that'll be one super blog, huh? But I'm tuckerd out; developing muscles I was never meant to have, I'm pretty sure.

And~ I said all of that to say this: I got nothing.

all that fluff

Hello, my name is Charles. I've sat on the sideline for weeks watching this woman unload box after box. What's the problem with humans? Why can't there be a couple of boxes and they're done?

I used ONE box when I moved. Having two bowls, one for water and one for food, I'm flabbergasted at the multi-sets of glasses and dishes! There's my winter snug-coat and two pairs of little boots. ~And my smallish bed and 'bloop' my favorite stuffed toy.... one box!

It's obscene, I tell you. Thousands of possessions marching through the doors; a never-ending story of 'packaholics'.

It's hard for me to understand... all that fluff... for what?

Are you done?

sometimes

Sometimes I must wait,
for more light,
to understand,
or be at peace.

Humble pie

Many times I've allowed my ego to write checks that my body cannot cash. You know, bragging and going on about the success I exude from every pore... what a bore... right?! Such is the crux of the tale I choose to share.

In humble community I spied this Chevy truck. My-oh-my a 1967, and loaded with 'unapparent' goodies. Though the 'Green' angel sitting on my shoulder was warning me, I thought, “oh c'mon, it's an old Chevy, what's the harm with a test drive?” Eight cyclinders, a 350 under the hood, no automatic steering, three gears on the column, and a hair-trigger clutch; what could go wrong? A friend and I took the plundge, and I really mean that, as they're were no seatbelts! Add leather seats and I was definitely 'going' places!

I cranked that bad boy up, easied the clutch out, barely touching the gas pedal, and was slammed back into the seat. I took a slight right hand turn and heard tires squalling as I fish-tailed out of the parking lot; like so: “ERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRKKKKKKKKKKK”... Immediately I was terrified as I fought to regain control. (regain?) Slipped my foot off of the gas and jumped my way to the first traffic light.

The straight steering had left me breathless; I looked over at my friend to see how she was fairing. People react differently to trauma; at least that was what I was feeling – traumatized. But she was laughing. She laughed during the entire test drive. She even felt 'impressed' by the way I handled the huge steering wheel. I didn't have the heart or humility to tell her that 'IT' handled me. I only know that once I parked that truck I was no longer entranced. The good thing is that I think I fixed my spine that had been out of place.(grin)



The next day I test drove this van, bought it, and I'm very happy. If I need a truck I can always remove the seats to haul something around... like my enlarged ego, and a recipe for 'humble pie'.

Campfire Girls

We were all alone in the days of childhood. Though we laughed and played no one ever knew you lived. From the highest tree to the gentle stream, no one ever knew... only me.

We had a favorite basket to gather pretty stones. A sink was filled with water to wash the dirt away. I would see you yawn and know that you'd be leaving. I would watch the sun set in the direction of your home.

Too young to be a campfire girl, we sneaked away to cry. Seems we were the same age, with the same problem, even though Mom says you don't exist. She says I have to let you go... but where to?

Why? How do I answer that question? I began to live within a dark space. Your light no longer shone. I walk out into the yard and knew I was alone.

My parents changed churches, which caused them to drive by a childrens' orphanage. I saw you sitting behind a great wrought iron fence... it was you! Please stop the car, that's her! Yes I'm quite sure.

For three Sundays we stopped at the orphanage so I could speak to you. I heard my Mom and Dad talking of adoption. Wow, I might soon have a sister! Unfortunately my Dad didn't want to follow through. He even changed the driving route.

One Sunday we rode by, and the sad face I saw was my own reflection in the window's glass. You weren't sitting at the fence. 'Terminal' is not a word a six year old would normally know... but I had a gut feeling which was about to be verified. I was glad my Mom met you... sitting in that tiny wheelchair.

They returned a stuffed bear I'd given you, and a card you left me, which I still have. So any time I light a campfire I look for you to be dancing on the wind; those incredible somersaults that no one else could ever do.

We both dreamed of having a friend... and became the other's dream, fulfilled.

My house

On August 8, 2011 I signed formal papers taking possession of my parents' home. These photos are five years old. The yard work is on standby until we empty the house of its contents. By the time we're done it will have taken three weeks to get everything out!! Then I can begin to move my stuff in!!!



I'm so excited ~~~

Creative trash

I'm pretty sure the post title is a statement, and not a question. You know... leaving things a bit open ended creates excitement.

Why is it that my neighbors' trash looks more exciting, inviting, than mine? One sniff and I'm carried away~ with a scent hanging upon the breeze. Oh how I love 'pine sol' too. I must call about this sofa. To me it's recyclable material... creative trash.

My friend Mimi, was handling the bulk trash calls today. "Hi Mimi, how are you?".

"Hey Miss D, how are you? What you got for me today?"

"I've got nothing; just wanted to ask about that green sofa on Elm?"

"You and ten others. The truck driver is taking it home for his 'man cave'. His wife, Delores has called all morning, checking and double checking. Then Mr. Taylor fell asleep on it, waiting for the bus...but complained that some women named Delores, got him arrested for loitering. You know, she knows Mr. Taylor's been sleeping on that corner for seventeen years!"

"That's awful; how's Mr. Taylor now?"

"Mr. Taylor took home one of the black plastic bags with him. It was full of over size stuffed animals. He's making hats and gloves for neighborhood children; claims it will be cold before we know it."

No place like home

The rain came down but spared this home. A fellow creature
sheltered under a leaf.
A gentle breeze travelled through and the web sought to dry.
Raindrops glistened as diamonds do; a necklace rarely found.

I'm not so fond of spider webs, nor hairy little creatures.
My eyes did wonder all around in case the friend came home.
Spin today and spawn tomorrow; those little souls live fast.

They've learned to live and take what comes; it's fascinates my mind.
No matter where they go; no matter where I am; there's no place like home.
Time to leave as I see you watching and waiting to crawl upon your web.

Just another fish tale

There was a family fishing hole,
but I never liked to fish.
They cast with wooden fishing poles,
competing for a wish.

But I sat on the rocks and looked,
at gemstones in the stream.
As one by one the fish they hooked;
I chose another a dream.




Rubies sparkled just beneath me,
were scooped up in my hand.
I listened to the shouts of glee
of those fishers near the sand.

So once they caught their fill,
they thought to leave this place.
My treasure gave me such a thrill,
that showed upon my face.

They made their way to where I sat,
inquiring what I'd found.
I let them peek at this and that,
the stones from sandy ground.

We headed home at sunset,
exchanging funny tales.
Me with shiny rubies;
them with slimey scales.

Journey

As people take their journey,
that starts at birth and ends at death

Some feel their footsteps mounting,
refreshed with every breath

When long ago I watched someone
who climbed this blessed stair

I said 'goodbye' and promised that
I'd meet them in the air.

So in my time of earthbound days
this journey I'll complete.

Then take the stairs that carry me
to heaven's holy seat.

Bathed in love

My little tree grove
is a space to contemplate
the secrets of the universe
and how it all relates.

Some things are serious
some only worth a laugh
but all things are put on hold
my little tree grove gets a bath.

The Bride's Tears

I've had many classes in drawing and wood work. I even took drafting in college to improve perception. It was an amazing course, yet my first love lay years ahead in time: painting.

Watercolor was first and then I used acrylics. Ironically I am self-taught. Lately I've begun to study with different artists for tips and techniques. It looks as if I'm ready for black and white oil paint study. We'll see.

The photo above is my last portrait in acrylic paint. I labored greatly but blending is still a technique I work on.

Recently a blog pal,('Bazza') had a great photo of a painting done in oil. I liked the way the artist painted the eyes on a 90 degree plane. So I thought I'd share a close up of the bride.

Sun, rain, song, repeat...

It's warm in Carolina. Humidity makes it even warmer. Then come nightfall the thunder sounds, leaving me wondering 'when' the rain will begin? It has been the exact same cycle for almost three months now. Yet I'm grateful because some places are begging for sunshine; some are begging for rainfall.

No matter how much the lightening flashes or how loud the thunder roars, in the morning the birds awake, and I'm compelled to sing along.

You took your time ~ welcome summer!