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 |    Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
SPRING: 3 Bahá 163 (March 23) Weather where I am: 42 and sunny. Just a tad of haze this early afternoon. Weather in Fort Smith, Arkansas where my cousin Allen Morgan is: 41. The clouds are south of me, so Allen may be getting the last blast of Winter today. Had a discussion with AL about påskliljor yesterday. Today I asked whether PMS stood for Påskliljor Melting Snow. So here's a link for anyone who can handle it: http://linnaeus.nrm.se/flora/mono/amaryllida/narci/narcpse.html Now that didn't hurt did it? I am thinking of composing a poem about this blessed event that happens according to Mother Earth's Great Cycle, but instead of just writing, it is coming to mind in outline form, ending first, which is not my usual processing style. Oh well. When it is done and edited, I'll post. I spoke with my cousin Judith Winchell in San Fran last night. Talked her ear off about what I found out about family through the U.S. Census (I keep wanting to make this word plural, as in censii or censes). So maybe I'll call Allen this weekend and tell him I found some stuff. I've promised to make a file for the family trees (macramé in the case of those Swedish breeders) and share it with everyone/anyone. Heard from Chris Parsons today ... finally. He sent me a picture of a sonogram. No explanation, just a lovely photo and that this was his good news. I guess I have to call to find out the details ... Went with Jesse today to take photos of me! Now, don't get your ... all twisted. I won't post any here, so your eyes won't be blinded and your computers all blink out! He's writing about some of us living here. I took him to the Student Onion (a.k.a. the Student Union) and gave him a tour, explaining how the building serves my needs and the community in general. It is a place I know well. SENSED Red maple blossoms with orange lanterns backlit by the morning son; an older couple walking next to a bank of yellow-yellow forsythias in full bloom, hand in hand, moving away; missing trees, the memory that something once grew there, the scrap of dirt, the sawdust; a view of the campanile I've seen a thousand times, seeing it one more time. Sketched on the 21st: Lemon cake, white frosting Lemon cake, white frosting, icing covering the bricks, this slick day dawns grey and chill, the forsythia under snow, glows, a lemon cake with frosting white and thick. Winter's bite, flakes falling, I call your number, let your voice calm my nerves; we talk of nothing, as morning ice now covers walks with winter's bite and snowflakes falling wet and slick. Lemon cake, white frosting, a welcomed price for entering Spring, when life and all begins anew, it leaves me thinking of those things I meant to say, and winter's bite, flakes falling. [163.2] Yikes, 1,709 views! Moving right along ... dere go da choo-choo ... all aboard! |
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