Ready to Make Friends with Poetry? ⟶
Across the pencils pointed skyward like so many word-wielding swords past the gray and steel of overflowing desks filled with orphaned papers stashed, crumpled askew over the carpet-bland, sturdy, useable home to small and hopeful feet to the doorway–closed. Through it comes life and noise and limbs, any moment now– eager hearts, chattering faces, souls…
My husband and I are embarking on another season of Home Improvements in the Collins Household. We’ve lived here for over 20 years; the house was built in 1979–the maintenance and care are ongoing. The other night we were calculating dimensions of the opening for a new sidelight to go next to our front door….
*photo credit There’s a bit of an imperfect storm in my head with several thoughts converging–conversations, blogposts, books I’ve read; bits and pieces I’ll attempt to put together. This is a longish post and I’ve borrowed some words from my daughter (she said I could). Here’s my story, wrapped around hers. ~~~~~~~~~ Standing at the sink,…
It only takes a few blueberries to purple the smoothie in my glass. Begging to add to the blender to lose that indigo hue– strawberries (darker) milk (lighter) still leaves it purple-ish, staining my teeth on the way down and the sink when I’m all…
Golden Gardens Seattle j.l. collins Seattle view j.l. collins A soaring wide-winged bird circles the lemon colored trees on the horizon. My eyes are drawn to the sight of flat-bottomed clouds stacked in the far off blue sky. I’d much rather swoon over the bursting expanse of creation in my view, but paying…
Husband in the Firetruck, Son Aaron behind him DIL Courtney in front, daughter Leah on right first grandson Hanan (now 22) Daughter Leah practicing her mad chef skills 1982 ish; Leah and Aaron with their Grandpa Paul The smiling little boy above? He has (now) 5 children of his own. Here he is with…
spent some time with the family recently. A lot of family….ever felt like this? ~~~~~~~~~~~ My train of thought often veers off track taking side journeys to sights unknown. I’ve jumped the rails, freight cars airborne, leaving passengers in my wake, schedules in hand, confused, wondering– did they miss the whistle at the station— ’cause surely,…
Emily stands tall at her desk, right hand pinching the corner of a zippered plastic bag. Plunk, clack, plunk–colored wooden pattern blocks drop in a kaleidoscopic jumble in the bag. “This was so much fun, Mrs. C! It’s the most fun we’ve had all year!” The most fun they’ve had all year. I’m not sure…
Because I cannot do 500 words a day every morning and well, frankly, wonder at those who do. From my files (circa 2008, long before this blog.) ~~~~~~~~~ I hate it that I am so sporadic Inconsistent, not persistent, no straight ahead in a line to the finish. I’m distracted, side-tracked Stops and starts,…
Four thirty a.m. The “chree-chree-chree” sounds in the far off greeny bog. “Whis-tle” “whis-tle” “whis-tle” returns the call, floating notes through the open window. A chorus of chirps and cheeps overlap like leaves in a pile at the singing tree, all the feathered throats announcing– messaging, instantly– a new day never-been-done day, it’s-another-start-day. So I…