I was born in a state named for a queen, by a river named for a king, and in a hospital named for the river. I adore books, words, wind chimes, church bells, birdsong, the crying of gulls at the shore, ocean waves crashing, the utterance of my newest name, Franna, in my granddaughter’s voice, … Continue reading Rambling autobiography
My oldest son spoke this phrase to me, the title of a book he’s reading: You are what you love. That’s like being handed a toy for the mind. Something to turn round and round, to consider from every angle: What does this do? More importantly: What do I do with this? I love my … Continue reading You are what you love
On Ethical ELA’s Open Write today, Kim Johnson invites teacher-poets to compose poetry from paint chip colors. She happened to have “Dirt Road” in her own list. As soon as I saw that name, it was over. I would have to take Dirt Road. Its pull is too strong for me, calling me back to … Continue reading Dirt road
Some people call it one word. Others call it one little word, abbreviated OLW. Either way it’s the tradition of choosing a focus word for a new year. Maybe even a new word for each month. Make of it what you will, how you will, the chosen word serves as a tool for reflection, a … Continue reading 2021: A year of awe
On the twelfth day of December, back in the Great Depression, my grandparents were married. My father was born the following October in a tenant farmhouse. That’s my grandmother’s wedding band in the photo. It’s not the one she received on her wedding day. That ring was thin; it wore “clean through,” Grandma said. Broke … Continue reading Anniversary of twelves
Late June afternoon on the porch. A long-settling stillness, the day’s brilliance deepening to amber, shadows slanting across lawns and pavement, a cool pre-dusk breeze riffling trees and wind chimes, carrying the sound of a child calling in the distance. It’s not a child; it’s a little goat from a neighbor’s pen, hidden in a … Continue reading Out of the shadows
Next-to-the last day of March. Early morning. Still dark. Chilly. I sit at my laptop, sipping coffee, catching up on my Slice of Life blog comments. The neighborhood rooster across the street crows for all he’s worth. My husband comes into the kitchen: “Is she up yet?” he whispers. He means our granddaughter. She spent … Continue reading Magnolia
It looks like a glass teardrop there in my hands. I tip it this way and that, watching the tiny white pieces inside floating up and down in the clear liquid, catching the light and glowing with bits of colored fire. I’ve never seen anything so magical. “Grannie, what IS this?” I breathe. I can … Continue reading Opal
For Grandma and Grannie. With all my gratitude and love, always. They stood beside each other at the hospital’s nursery window on the evening I was born.For one I was the first grandchild.For the other I was the first granddaughter, following five boys.The other stepped back so the one could see me better. I inherited … Continue reading Grandmothers
Dear Blue, I note that you have been showing up more than usual in my life lately. You are, in fact, a Presence. I wonder if this all started with my renewed interest in Vincent van Gogh and The Starry Night. One would assume that the artist’s haloed stars are the magnetic pull here… but … Continue reading Blue
lit bits and pieces 