Lavender Light to Velvet Night

Today is Poetry Friday, hosted by Linda Baie at TeacherDance.  You must get over there and see what she has in store this Valentine's Day...lots of links to poems, too!
Happy Valentine's Day!

This first poem came to me as I sat looking out the front windows at the snow in the later evening, just as the sun had been rumored to set (but since it was snowing furiously who could tell that there really was a sun today).  I was thinking about puzzle pieces and how you can look at a picture and think, hey, that's light blue, but then you hold it up beside something you know is blue, and it isn't, it's lavender.  And that is what color the snow looked in the evening light to me.

Lavender Light

when crimson has set
but dark is not yet
it’s lavender light
before velvet night
lavender snow
on lavender trail
lavender trees
in lavender veil
it’s a lavender eve
when the sun's taken leave
and the snow keeps on falling
sweet lavender’s calling
watch it and see
how long it can stay
before close of day
it hovers and glows
until deeper it grows
and lavender’s melted away
as night's velvet curtain
is lowered on day.

And then, I started to write a serious poem, from the heart... but it dissolved.
Not that this isn't serious (okay, it isn't really) and heartfelt...  it is (yes, it is!).
But it is a bit lighthearted (okay very lighthearted) for this Valentine's Day!  I am sorry, but I could not help myself once I got started.  If I missed any good phrases, it's because I finally had to call a halt to it.  I called a halt to it about five times, maybe more, before I stopped.  Really.  I've stopped. I am going to bed.  Right after I click Publish.  Oh, one more... I think I'm "heartsick".  Anyone who writes this way has to be sick.

Lighthearted Heartthrob

A man after my own heart
Showed up one day.
My heart wasn’t in it.
“Come in, sit and visit,”
I could not be heartless.
"Tea?" I asked.
"Heartwarming," he dubbed it.
My heart of stone
Had a change of heart.
And soon returned his visit.
"Sweets?" he asked.
"Such a sweetheart," I murmured.
My heart skipped a beat.
And we began to talk
Heart to heart,
In heartfelt words,
Listening with our hearts.
It seemed that in a heartbeat
We got to the heart of the matter,
Yes, those matters of the heart.
And our hearts wholeheartedly agreed
And heartily declared indeed,
Straight from the heart,
That they would start
To beat as one
Forever.
What were we to do?
Our hearts were in it.
Forsaking
Our hearts.
Would be too
Heartbreaking.
So we listened to our hearts,
And we have followed them,
And we have stayed
With happy hearts
No matter where they led -
Our home is where the heart is!

(Happy Valentine's Day, Sweetheart!)

Dandelions

These happy flowers will be out soon.  They are the first to spring up here, seemingly waiting under the snow for spring to arrive and melt the snow down to where you can see their sunny faces!  And if you would like to read more dandelion poems, head over to Poetry Jam, where Alan has links to other original dandelion poetry.  Check back throughout the week as more poems are added!
Find out more information about this flower, and other names it can go by in other countries here.
If you want to see how my husband and I learned to become responsible homeowners, you can go to The Lawn Less Mowed. There are dandelions involved.

How to Know a Dandelion

green teeth as

lion’s ilk,
hollow straw of
bitter milk,
yellow burst with
sunny face,
hoary head for
seedy race

©Donna JT Smith, 2014

********************

And here is an older poem I'd written and posted for the 2012 A to Z challenge for the letter Y, that is also about a dandelion.  It is written as a Yadu* - a tricky form.

Y is for Yellow

yellow sun floods
the field buds bright
in mud of spring
the birds sing of
the bling of yellow dandelions

© 2012, Donna JT Smith

*The yadu (ya-du and yatu) is a Burmese form of poetry which consists of up to three stanzas of five lines. The first four lines of a stanza have four syllables each, but the fifth line can have 5, 7, 9 , or 11 syllables. A yadu should contain references to the seasons.
It has a climbing rhyme. The rhyme is on the fourth, third, and second syllables of both the first three lines and the last three lines.

Mouse Trails and Constellations

The  Slice of Life Tuesday is hosted at Two Writing Teachers.
Go there and check out what's going on today in people's lives.

Before the last two snows this week, we had a bit of warming and rain, and lots of the snow melted.  When it did, it revealed in the snow, down at the grass level, the trails of a mouse, or mice.  Then on a recent drive, in the fresh snow, I could see animal tracks all along the edge of the highway up past the ditch on the tree line.
I am always fascinated by all the activity that the animals carry on doing through the winter.  You know it happens when there is no snow on the ground, too - and quite possibly more so.  But in winter it is like a little time line, a recording of what has gone on, visible now because of the imprintable snow.
When I look at the mouse trail, I wonder what made the mouse turn in a particular direction and then come back.  Was there a little tender piece of grass, an acorn, a bit of lichen?  I know at one point the trail came to a halt and then you could see it go around a stick on the ground.  I guess he didn't want to go over it.  Too much digging?  Wasn't sure how high he'd have to go to get over it?

mouse burrowing in cold snow

making paths to go

safely, secretly below

Then we had more snow and covered the trails again.  The new snow that fell was the diamond kind.  The one that has the perfect, reflective snowflakes - the beautiful snowflakes, that when caught on your dark mitten, display their six dendrites, and are the models for the warmer paper flakes we make.  February 9th was "Wilson Bentley's" birthday.  Have you read "Snowflake Bentley"?
"Of all the forms of water the tiny six-pointed crystals of ice called snow are incomparably the most beautiful and varied." -- Wilson Bentley (1865-1931)

As the snowflakes lay on the landscape, the sun struck some of them, and I could see stars on the ground.  Then the constellations appeared.

snowflakes, starflakes, bright snowstars

falling from the sky

form snowbound constellations

It is fun, even in the cold, to look around and see the good stuff there is to find and think about.  You might as well.  It's a long winter.

Something fun for the kids and even adults to do.... make an online snowflake (also printable). http://snowflakes.barkleyus.com/

Monarch Journey

Poetry Friday is being hosted today by Renee LaTulippe at No Water River.  Because I've been getting updates through email about Journey North for the past few days, and I read Michelle's Poetry Friday post on Today's Little Ditty, I decided to go with a monarch butterfly poem today.
My class used to do a Monarch butterfly project with Mexico.  You can find information about the Journey North program here: http://www.learner.org/jnorth/monarch/spring2014/update020614.html
The program involving school communications starts in the fall and picks up again in the spring.  Lots of good information on their site about the overwintering and the numbers of monarchs spotted.  Classes can send in Monarch sighting reports at any time though, to help with the tracking of these beautiful butterflies.
In years past the children of Mexico used to kill the butterflies, thinking that the butterflies were destroying the trees they covered when they wintered there.  That activity has stopped, but the butterflies are still decreasing in number.  The monarch population is dwindling, but there are things that can be done to help their survival.

Monarch

Milkweed pods erupt
Silky parachutes
Carry precious seeds
Spreading far their roots
Broken milkweed stem
Bitter milky bleed
Justifies the name
Of this humble weed
Monarch lays on leaves
Of this gracious host
Clear cream beads beneath
Overlooked by most
Eggs erupt to find
Food beneath their feet
Shelter from the rain
Shade in summer heat
End of summer brings
Needs for changing ways
Wrapped in green and gold
Metamorphing days
Chrysalis erupts
Wings, not parachute,
Strong for precious miles
On an un-flown route.
Monarch butterfly

At the journey’s end

You have earned your gold

Battered regal friend

Mirror Image

As a response to Mirrors at Laura Purdie Salas' challenge for 15 Words or Less, I wrote this:

To My Husband:

♡

I Cannot Imagine

This is linked through Poetry Jam in response to the prompt to write a tribute to someone.  I immediately thought of my grandfather on my father's side, who came to this country from Newfoundland as a young man starting his new family and a new chapter of life.

I actually wrote two.  So take your pick.  I worked on these simultaneously - I don't know what that says about me - perhaps I am ADD?  They just had to both be done, and now I'm not sure that I'm finished.  There is something nagging at me about them, but I don't know what yet.  There may be another poem in me that is trying to work its way through my brain.  Could get painful!

The seal my grandfather kept on a shelf in the living room.

I cannot imagine
the cold
the fear
the determination
of setting foot on a floating world
of raising a club
to kill a seal
when you were yet a boy
but you knew
your family needed you
to put good bread on the table
to heat the cold house
to keep out the wild winds

you made your father proud
though he never said
and warmed your mother’s heart
though it could not have
quelled her fears

I cannot imagine
the bravery
the vision
the pilgrim heart
suppressing doubts
to transport your new family
to this country
pursuing
a beginning

thank you
for always being
braver
than we
could ever
imagine.


My grandfather, living in Pouch (pronounced "pooch") Cove, Newfoundland, was sent out on a sealing ship when he was somewhere between the ages of 9 and 12 to work on the ice floes in the North Atlantic.  Children were sent out at an early age to help provide for those at home. His family was large, and they needed the income from the sealing industry to support them.  He hated this job, but there was no alternative.  He never spoke of this to us, his grandchildren, so all I ever learned of it was through my parents later.  Most of his relatives eventually made it to the Boston area and moved out from there, with my grandparents ending up in Maine and then Florida.
Childhood.  It can be so different for different people.  Lifestyles, life trials.  Again so many stories, some told, some still untold.
I've included a few more bits of information here that help to round out his story a bit.

My grandfather's brother, Zack Thistle, was on the Viking when they were filming a movie, White Thunder, later named The Viking in 1931 that needed extras for the sealing crew on the ship.  He went and was one of the cast members that was killed during the production off the coast of Newfoundland near the Horse Islands.

To My Grandfather:

When I knew you
As a child
I did not know you
Your story filed
Inside you

I only knew you
Old and grown
I did not know
The life not shown

When only young
The sea you sailed
Hopped on icebergs
Wild winds wailed
Around you

The sealing life
You long endured
But when you married
You were lured

Away from home
And family
Away from the island
But not the sea
Within you

You brought your wife
And brand new daughter
To a new life
Across the water

Then came two sons
Soon after that
To your new home
A city flat
Not for you

Your wife was strong
And knew your needs
For home on cliffs
Beside the seas

The salty spray
In your heart and veins
Hidden from view
Eternally retains
Contains you.

I Missed Groundhog Day

I wasn't teaching first grade on this Groundhog Day, so I missed it.  Every year I've checked to see what Punxsutawney Phil predicted for the coming of spring.  But this year, because I'm not teaching (and it is the second Groundhog Day of not doing so), I didn't check.  The first year after retirement I did check.  It seemed the thing to do.  But this year I just let it slide.  Maybe it has something to do with not caring as much about the driving weather now.  If it is too "anything but wonderful" for driving out there, I just stay home and watch it weather at will.

I'm not sure the groundhog is the best predictor of the coming of spring, since any particular day can be whatever and doesn't mean that tomorrow won't be different.  If the groundhog sees his shadow (which I guess he did) on February 2 (meaning there will be more cold for longer than we would like), yet on February 1 or 3, only one day before or after, clouds cover the sky and he can't see his shadow (resulting in spring springing forth abundantly and sooner than skiers would like), how can we truly rely on this creature and this one day?  Does missing the clouds by a day mean we have to endure an extended winter? 
And though he saw his shadow in Pennsylvania, if he'd been in Maine for the winter, he would not have seen his shadow on February 2.  It was cloudy and dismal.  He would have stayed out to enjoy the ugly weather until the grass turned green.

I guess he's probably as reliable as the Internet or the weatherman, though.  Way back when they invented groundhogs for spring predictors, they didn't have the weather channel and the Internet.  Now that we have them we are so much better off (really?).  The Internet never lies (right?)...nor do the weathermen mispredict.  They're at least as good as a groundhog.

To be fair to Phil and his relatives, I'm sure Groundhog Day came to be because in the "olden days" of no Weather Channel, if people started to see animals becoming more active, they would know that spring was soon to follow.  And this is probably a better indicator still than our technology.

Old Posts are New

I was reading Michelle's post last Tuesday about having her posts compiled in a book (a Christmas gift from her parents), and I started to think about reading old posts again.  When I did, I went back to my very first three posts in 2010 and found that they had not been read.  Surprise?  No.  Who knows you are writing back then?  I wasn't a part of SOL or anything else.  I only knew me.  Not sure I'd even commented on anyone's posts back then.
Then I thought about the fact that these were new posts in that case.  Maybe they bear repeating.  On some blog I remember posting an old blog that you thought hadn't received as much attention as you thought it should have - somehow it got lost in the shuffle of other bloghops or weather or emergencies.  For whatever reason, no one had been there.  And if no one reads a post in the forest, does it really make a sound?  No.
So for that reason alone, I am copying and pasting (so you won't have to actually GO there) my first three blog posts' contents here.  You know how to find the links, but I'm going to make it super easy!
Here they are.  How I started my Bloglife!  

Tell me, have you ever had a post no one read, but you would like someone to read?  Post the link in your comment!  I'll read it!

Then head on over to Slice of Life Tuesday and read about the lives, loves and laughter in other parts of our world at Two Writing Teachers!


I started on Christmas of 2010 with this, my very first post (should have done this at Christmas!):

December 25, 2010

Hope for All

Hope for all

This Christmas Day

Hope and Joy

And Peace, I pray.

For unto us

A child was born,

A Star this darkness

To adorn.

He’s given Hope

To those adrift,

A Hope for all

Who take His gift.

So sing the hymns

And praise His name

Be thankful that

God sent, He came.

Though short His time 

Upon the earth,

Hope was given

Through His birth.

Donna J.T. Smith

7:15 pm, December 25, 2010

Then I tried my story writing with this short rewrite of Goldilocks and the Three Bears (where I retell the story from a different viewpoint):

December 27, 2010

Beverly Bear and the Blonde Creature

So today I’m up bright and early.  I made the beds and then made the oatmeal, which some prefer to call porridge, though I don’t for the life of me know why.  Porridge sounds so gruelish.

Anyway, our breakfast, no matter what it is, never turns out right for our tastes, so we’ve always just put it in the bowls on the table and left it out to see if it’s better later. 

Actually my husband, Barry, and I never have had a good breakfast.  It’s always too hot or too cold.  But for some reason little Beatrice’s is nearly always just right.  That’s important.

So this morning around 8 am, a little creature, I’ll call her Blondie, came to our house, evidently just after we left for our early morning pre-breakfast jog around the forest to get our breakfast temperatures adjusted.

When we got back to the house, the door was ajar and there was mud on the carpet.  We always wipe our paws at the door.  Don’t I just hate tracked in dirt!  There were little creature prints on the floor everywhere! We followed them into the kitchen where we saw that someone must have tried our oatmeal.  Our spoons were still in the bowls.  It appeared that she liked Beatrice’s best, because it was gone, along with most of the honey we’d put out to use on the oatmeal.  Boy, I love that stuff!  But anyway…

Beatrice wasn’t too pleased.  But neither was Barry.  He doesn’t even like it if I try a bite of his food!

From there we followed sticky fingerprints into the Library where we often sit and read our favorite books about those odd unfurred creatures that live outside of the woods.  In the Library, what do we see?  Right.  She’s been in all the chairs.  You can tell that, as the fur on your arms stick to the arms of the chairs, thanks to the honey-eater.  Now that wouldn’t be so bad, as I can clean honey off of most anything you give me. I’ve got a good strong cleaning tongue for tidying up Beatrice’s face and ears.  But I can’t fix Beatrice’s favorite rocker.  It’s been totally destroyed.  This creature must be heavier than Beatrice…but after eating all that oatmeal with honey, I’m not surprised.

It looked like she had decided to go upstairs and read some books, as there were books strewn all over the stairs.  She must have had her arms full and dropped some on the way up.  Or maybe she just didn’t think she’d be able to find her way downstairs again and was dropping “bookcrumbs”….or using “bookmarks”!  Ha! That was a good one! Beatrice calls these "Mama jokes", but she doesn't laugh, she just sighs.  

Well, we followed the books upstairs.  There was a very heavy book left on Barry’s bed.  It was his favorite book,  “Jack and the Beanstalk”.   And a very nice one called “The Little Red Hen” was still on my bed.  When we looked over at Beatrice’s bed, there was a big pile of books beside it and a little creature with very blond hair lying there holding the book,  “Little Red Riding Hood”.  Her eyes were closed though.  It appeared that she had fallen asleep while reading it.

Not being too crazy about finding a creature in our house, we yelled and waved our arms to scare her away.  It was pretty effective, as she opened her eyes very suddenly and screamed something about big bad wolves…which we aren’t, and we don’t even know any…

We were happy to see her leave, swiftly weaving her way down the stairs past the books she’d dropped and out the front door.

Beatrice says the creature was "so cute" and wants one for a pet.  Barry says we should set a trap and install an alarm system.  But I don’t think we’ll see her again. I've stopped leaving out food.  Seems to attract pests.

by Donna J.T. Smith

12/27/2010

And then it was back to poetry (and this is for any season!):

December 28, 2010

It's All in a Year

Icy fingers

Toasty toes

Happy hearts

Chilly nose

Daffodillies

Crocus crowns

Lilacs lovely

Dandy downs

Sunny beaches

Shady elms

Picnic baskets

Sailboat helms

Geese a’flying

Leaves a’falling

Squirrels hording

Turkeys calling

Then we’re back

To toasty toes

And ways to warm

A chilly nose.

by Donna J.T. Smith

12/28/2010

I enjoyed reading my old posts.  Maybe it is time to put them in a blog book for safe-keeping.  Maybe two extra books.  The second grandchild will arrive in April.
And don't forget to look through your old posts and see if there is a treasure there you would like someone to read!  It may bear reposting!  At least leave me the link!

A Feline Poetry Friday

This has been such a busy week.  Last Friday morning we had to put our cat down.  He was only with us 10 years, but there was nothing more we could do.  And within an hour we had found our next cat from the rescue.  On Saturday morning we picked him up.  And every day has been a blessing.  Instead of moping and crying and feeling terrible, we have reason to smile.
So today instead of rehashing here, for Poetry Friday I have put up links to two poems over at Tara's A Teaching Life.  I can't believe it, but her post is a cat post, too!  Yea!  Go there and go here to see the two poems posted, one for each cat:
http://mainelywrite.blogspot.com/2014/01/i-miss-you-purrsee.html
http://inoahcat.blogspot.com/2014/01/i-noah-cat-am-here.html

Have a wonderful day... and pat a cat!

Thursday

Yesterday I debuted Noah's website - I, Noah Cat.  (Get it?  I no-ah cat...I know a cat...clever, right?)  I don't know if I can possibly keep up blogs and life chores, but I'm going to try and do my best.  Mainely Write is my most consistently posted to blog, and hopefully, Noah's will be the same.  Noah doesn't do the typing, so I have to, and that takes time.  It may end up a weekly blog post - like a Feline Friday, or a Meow Shout Monday...something very clever, I'm sure.

If you are so inclined, and don't mind reading a cat's perspective on things, you can go there.  It is not going to be long and drawn out and will hopefully feature some interesting things from his view.  So far he has posts from yesterday and today.

I've also written my take on Laura Purdie Salas' picture with 15 words or less picture prompt.  You should try it if you haven't yet.  It's a challenge and fun!

Tomorrow is Poetry Friday, so stay tuned.  I don't have a poem written yet, unless I steal the one from Noah's blog yesterday.  We'll see what happens between now and then.

Now, for working on "Musicful".  I need to get the notated version to my illustrator, Ethan Russell, who is a local artist.  Haven't heard of him?  I think you will someday.  I hope soon!

OLW - TRIM

Okay, so I was not going to have a OLW - One Little Word - this year.  But I've read so many posts about it that I almost can't not do it.  So here's my word... it just came to me as I started this post:

TRIM

So how is that inspirational?  I'm glad you asked that question.

TRIM - taking off the extra

Take away extra pounds,

Extra words,

Extra stuff in my life,

Extra stuff in my house, and

Extra sugar, salt, fat in foods.

TRIM - adding extras

Adorn, embellish, beautify

So I'm going to trim things down and add some fancy extras.  Doesn't that sound interesting?

Before I do something, I guess I'll have to ask myself, What kind of trimming are you doing here?

In writing, am I trimming by adding fancy stuff or trimming by taking out the unnecessary?

In my closet, I can trim by taking out the stuff I don't use, and adding that hook on the door to hang up bathrobes.

I don't know.  Maybe it won't work that well.  But I am intrigued by the possibilities of having it as my focus.

 Trig

 Reduce

 Improve

 Minify

It is going to be interesting to see how this plays out in real life.  And yes, trig and minify are real words, even though minify keeps getting a red "you aren't spelling a real word" line warning under it, and I'm sure it's just letting me do trig because of trigonometry...

There are other meanings out there that I will be using as well.  Like trim the sails and trim an airplane and trim the ship.  I will be seeking a balance as I clean out the clutter, reduce my weight and add needed adornments and embellishments!  It will work in my writing as well as my daily life.

So let's give it a go.  First step is to give my self some kind of a daily reminder to use my word.

Wallpaper on my devices.  A card for the refrigerator.  A spot on the side of my blog.   I think I just got an idea.  When I have it done, I will show you.  Wait.  How can you "think" you "just got" an idea?  Trim that.  "I have an idea!"   

It's working already!

Back and Forth

It's Slice of Life, Tuesday at Two Writing Teachers.  What's happening in your life?  Here's a slice of mine; let's share!

I tried this poetry because of our recently moved in cat and a lyric that I used in a comment on Average Poet a couple of days ago.  The lyrics were from the song "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?" by Chicago.  I had never really seen the lyrics written out, and only then did I realize that the chorus had a back and forth type conversation - really two sets of lyrics alternating or with parts inserted.  So I decided to try it - kind of like it, but with rhymes alternating.  Can you see what I was doing?

"I can still see you."  "No, you can't."  "Uh, yes, I think I can."

                              Come take a peek
                                         Let's see what it's got
                              Go on and seek
                                         There's a spot
                              A spot of your own
                                         For sitting upon
                              To rest your bones
                                         There’s a bed
                              Beyond these doors
                                         To rest my head
                              Our house is yours -
                                         Where's the bonbon?

                                                     © Donna JT Smith, 2014

On Saturday, Noah, the new cat came home with us.  It's been the most relaxed move and adjustment I think an animal has ever made to new surroundings.  One day he wasn't here, the next day he was, and it was like he'd always been here talking to us.  And he is a talker, too!  I speak, he answers....he speaks, I answer.  He was made for our home.

Loving Pippi!

Noah Has Landed - a New Home!

On Friday morning, after having our cat, Purrsee, put down, we went to Pet Quarters on our way to the Humane Society to just look at cats... maybe start the process of thinking about a cat... at least to stop thinking about what had just occurred.
As soon as we walked through the door, we headed to the left where they sometimes have a cage with rescue cats up for adoption.  We could see the cage, but before we got there to read the big "My Name is Noah" sign with a cat's history, we saw this rather large white cat with a gray skullcap lounging on a climbing tower.  I stopped to pat him.  Very friendly.  The same markings as two other cats we'd had in the long ago past.  "This must be the store mascot", I thought. "He's out loose and he is so beautiful and friendly.  I wish he was up for adoption."
We went over to the cage, but there was no cat inside.  I called over to the sales person at the register and asked (in a doubtful voice) if this white cat was Noah, to which she replied, "Yes, it is.  Don't be surprised if he is a bit shy."  But he wasn't.  He was purring and rubbing against my hand.
I asked my husband to pick him up (he was too high and looked like he might be too heavy for me at that angle), so he did.  The sales lady came over and warned that we shouldn't be offended if he wanted to get down.  He didn't usually like being held very long, especially by men.  But he was fine.  He enjoyed the attention again.
We just looked at each other.  What was happening?  Weren't we just looking and leaving? Then we went over to his sign to read up on this cat that was capturing our hearts - this cat who had seemed to pick us when we entered the store.
He was a stray who had tried numerous times to belong to families by hanging out at their house, only to be chased away.  He was finally brought to A Paw in the Door, a cat rescue, where he was brought in dirty, scrawny and with a sore paw.  They cleaned him up, had him checked by the vet, and then put him up for adoption.  He had been at Pet Quarters for a month with no one interested in him.  No one had looked at him, no one had filled out papers, no interest - until we came in.  I knew this was our next cat.  I filled out paperwork right there as he watched from his perch.  I did not know he was watching, but my husband was watching him watching me.
We sadly had to leave him there while the paperwork was checked and vet references were checked.  It would be 24 hours before we would know if we could pick him up.
I could not stay away though, and late in the day, before closing, we went again to Pet Quarters to say good night to him and to take a picture...or two, or three...okay, maybe more.

At the store testing the dog beds.

Wondering if I'm going to keep patting him or let him go back to sleep.

Trying to get back to what he was doing.

On Saturday morning we went out to breakfast with our son, and after breakfast my husband had to go somewhere, so my son and I took a trip to the pet supply store so I could show him the cat we were interested in adopting.  He liked Noah also.  When we entered the store there were 3 clerks in the front who all grinned and said "Hi!", and wanted to know if we'd heard from the rescue person, Joanne, yet.  I said I hadn't yet, we had just come in to say good morning to Noah.
We found him sacked out on bags of dog food in the back area, and he came out to play for a bit when enticed with a feather toy.  I decided to look around and see if there was a toy I could buy sometime later for him, and as I was browsing, my cell phone rang.  It was Joanne saying I could go to the store and pick up Noah.  I'd been approved to adopt this gorgeous guy.  I had to admit to her that I was already at the store to say good morning to him!
Joanne, the adoption consultant, then came to the store to bring me some vet paperwork. A sales person was called to let her know Noah was leaving in case she wanted to come in and say good-bye to Noah.  It was her day off, but she was attached to Noah and wanted to be able to say good-bye before he left.  I'm sure she will fall in love with another cat soon!  We did.
I loved Purrsee, and though at first it felt like it was a betrayal to fall in love with another cat so soon, I don't think it is.  I think it is testimony to the fact that we loved him enough to need another cat to fill the void left by him.
BTW  Our dog, Pippi, and Noah have already touched noses and have agreed that they will become fast friends.  I think Pippi's relieved that Noah doesn't seem to be a Ninja cat, like Purrsee was.  However, the ability to teleport does not seem to be beyond his capabilities.  He had a collar with a bell on it at Pet Quarters.  Now I know why.  He moves around so quietly, and finds the nicest places into which to tuck his not-that-small body.  He seems to just disappear at will.  He isn't really hiding in fright, just seems to be testing spots to see if they work out for him.  I may have to get him a bell, too.  At least for the first few days, so I can learn where his favorite spots are going to be.

Look! He has his feet tucked contentedly underneath himself already!

And he chills well.

Look!  He thinks he owns our bed!  When he comes untucked he gets pretty long.
Welcome, Noah!

I Miss You, Purrsee

Well, Friday didn't turn out to be a regular day.  Actually the whole week got messed up right from the beginning.  I was sick, and then my Maine Coon cat, Purrsee, got sick.  I recovered; he did not.  In spite of a number of calls and multiple visits to the vet, giving fluids, doing exploratory surgery, and receiving antibiotics and painkillers, Purrsee had to be put down Friday morning at 8:30.  I am so sad; I thought we could help him.  I don't know what happened and neither do the veterinarians.  He just suddenly stopped eating and moving around.  He stopped closing his eyes to sleep.  He was in pain and nothing could be done for him.  He was our friend for the past 10 years.  He was a quite a character.  I truly miss him.

Wrestling with the dog.

Moving day: in the frying pan in the sun - doesn't get better than this.

I thought I’d take time to write of my cat,
The one who so recently by my side sat,
He gazed out the window and looked so content;
For ten years he was here, and then he just went.
He wasn’t the easiest cat to befriend,
But he loved us well, right up to the end.
He opened the cupboards when he wanted food.

If you didn’t do it, he’d get downright rude;
Yelling and slamming the doors till he got
Food and some water - Pronto! On the dot!
It had to be fresh, no food that was stale -
Grading morsels and mortals alike: pass or FAIL.
His best friend, the dog, was his loyal sidekick,
Sharing her bed, her fire and her stick.
One time as a kitten he latched onto dog's lip,
And held on steadfastly till we ended his trip.
He often would watch me as I sat to write
Peer over computer until late at night.
And given a chance to tap on the keys
I'd find he had written a whole lot of e's.
I’ll miss all the glares that turned into purrs,
The long silky locks and the gray, tangly furs,
One renegade whisker, the big tufted paws,
The twitchy tailed warning of razor sharp claws.
I’ll miss you, my cat, for though you were rough,
And your independence translated as tough,
You melted my heart succumbing to purring
Tail curled over nose, cozy and alluring.
If cats go to heaven, I hope you’ll be there.
But a cat's true repentance is really so rare.

©Donna JT Smith

His last picture, his last night at home.  Nice eyes.  Not happy.

Here are some other posts where you will hear of Purrsee:
Dog and Cat
Reigning Cat and Dog
Goldie Locks and the Cat Hairs
Purrsee
My Winter Window
Static Cat

January Thaw

It's Poetry Friday!  Yea!  A day for poems to ring in my ears!
If you head on over to Keri's place at Keri Recommends, you, too, can enjoy poetry all day today.  And while you are there have a cookie and sing Happy Birthday to her!

After low, low temperatures - actually so low they owed us some degrees - now it is above freezing and raining and the 2+ feet of snow we had is nowhere to be seen in some spots.  I can feel the mud dragging my tires into ruts in our driveway.  Never fear.  The snow and cold will be back.  This happens in January a lot.  Just warning those who haven't lived here long enough to know this little seasonal trick that January likes to play on the unsuspecting.


January thaw
The ice melts
And gives a taste of spring - it
Isn't over
Don't be fooled
By this fickle thing - it
Waits around for
The right time
To get more snow and fling it.

©Donna JT Smith 2014

My Winter Window

For the past few days, as I am sitting at the kitchen table writing, I have seen 5 deer that are making my backyard theirs.  I can watch them as I sit here.

I sit quietly writing
When the cat walks past me
His movement attracts my attention
And I look up
My eyes are drawn along with his
Past the glass
To the woods
I see winter trees and
Bare branches
Tree limbs move
Becoming legs
And the deer silently appear
They walk quietly
Stopping to nibble rain soaked lichen
Pawing at dead leaves
Uncovering tiny greens
In winter's black and white
I stare as they walk past
Limbs blending with limbs
Until they disappear.

Aesthetes, Poeters and Poetrinas Welcome here!

Welcome!  Welcome!  It is so nice to have you come and visit for a bit here on the coast of Maine!  We'll build a snowman and then get some cocoa and a cookie.
It's Poetry Friday day! (Posted early for all you who need to post Thursday night.)
What have you to offer our avid aesthetes who come to visit, dear poeters and poetrinas?
Please link below in the InLinkz provided and visit other like-minded haikuists, limerickers, acrosticians, clerihewns, rondeauleers, odeifiers, etc.

Yea, for Friday!  It's Poetday!

Bring forth all your rhyming words
All inclined poetic nerds
Put your wondrous words in order
Use a rhymie rhythmic sorter
Pour them through a spellcheck spout
Squeeze imagistic verses out
Shuffle and snippet every line
Polish them until they shine
Toss the extras in a pile
Use them in a little while
Lasso lines and round them up
Herd them in a measured cup
March them out each to their meter;
To their greeter, poem-eater.



Words to verse, and stanza to poem
If you've a rhyme, InLinkz it to show 'em!
Then visit others and leave a note
To say that you've read what they wrote...

Puzzling

Over the past week, my daughter and I did 4 jigsaw puzzles.  I gave my grandson (28 months old) a Curious George 24 piece puzzle.  It was done with help from parents and he was excited when he saw George on the finished picture.  But he had his sights on bigger and better things - the 500 and 1000 piece puzzles we were doing.  For a while we told him "no" and guarded the pieces from being taken from the table either on purpose, or by accident as they stuck to his shirt sleeves.
Finally, I decided, why not let him in on the fun?  He likes to sit and color for long periods, maybe he really would like doing this, too.  And what's the worst thing that could happen?  We can't finish a puzzle?  So we offered him a seat and a pile of puzzle pieces to assemble.  And assemble he did.

So careful, so thoughtful - so young!

Those pudgy little fingers picked up pieces and maneuvered them around until he found a fit.  No matter that the colors didn't match.

He loved the "sun" pieces.

It occupied him for quite some time and allowed us to be entertained both by the puzzle and watching this little guy working so diligently alongside us.  He was thrilled with what he'd done...and so were we!

Make It Good

I can't help but write about my grandson today. But in writing about him, I am really writing about every child at any age really. My grandson is 28 months old, and I am astounded at what he knows.  Wouldn't it be nice if we could always make sure good stuff was going in brains?

His eyes

watch.
His ears

hear.

His fingers wrap around the blue crayon.
He does not look up.
He studies the lines he has made.
“Blue!”

His blue eyes twinkle.
He sees everything.
He hears everything.

Say something.
Listen.
It will echo back to you,
In a tiny voice,
Sometimes behind you,
Sometimes almost underfoot.

Do something.
Watch.
He is your mirror.
You did not see him,
But he saw you;
He heard you.

“Blue”
He saw it.
He heard it.
He knows it,

now.
What else will he hear
and learn
from you?

Make it
Good.

His eyes shine,
His ears hear
everything.

And
wouldn’t it be
nice
if it was always
Good?

His eyes sparkle.
He grips the brown crayon.
“Brown!”

You did not think he knew that one.
But he’s been watching,
And listening to

you.

Quiet in the House

It is now officially Christmas "Passed" or Past.  Either works.  Saturday morning we got up and went out to breakfast - me, my husband, our son, our daughter, our son-in-law, our grandson and our grandbaby-yet-to-be-born (sharing French Toast and sausage with Mom).
And after breakfast, we bid everyone a car-side farewell.  It was going home time.  I hate saying good-bye for now see you soon times.  The good thing about them is you are pretty sure you will see them again soon, barring some unforeseen plan God has for you or others.  Worst are the ones where you know it will be a long time between visits, and you don't know when it will happen again.  But we know we will see our daughter and grandson again in February and then in April when the baby is born.  And our son lives close by, so we have the advantage of being able to see him often.
After breakfast, we came home to a quiet house.  It had been the play yard of our grandson for days.  Our cat and dog were relaxing.  The cat especially.
So quiet.  We picked up remnants of the visit.  I won't need the red truck that makes back up beeping noises again until February.  I can throw away those egg cartons and paper towels tubes now.  They've done their jobs as rattly containers for little toys and as pirate telescopes. I can toss the plastic wrap that entertained with each pop as it was squeezed.
I'm sure I'll accumulate more before he returns.
I can hang my work of art on the refrigerator - the one done in pen on my optometrist's receipt - the one with holes poked in it where the pen "pop"ped through when it hit the edge of the leaf in the table.  My daughter gets the one done with crayon where he made a square that came out slanted and declared with delight "Kite!"
Yes, the house is quiet now.  Only "old people" noises now.  How nice to have it back for a bit.  Re-unite with our old routines, let the animals relax some, put things in place again.  But how precious it was to have that break from the ordinary, and how exciting to know it will happen again.  And next Christmas there will be a new set of bright eyes looking at our little tree.  I'm looking forward to a Christmas Future with another break from quiet in the house.

Static Cat

Thanks, Betsy, at I Think in Poems, for hosting this week's Poetry Friday!  Happy New Year!

A busy Christmas week for us....
finally family is all together.  Some items were packed in styrofoam that was a bit brittle and seemed to go everywhere.  The cat was interested in the box it came in.  I picked off most of the pieces of stray styrofoam before taking the picture.
Then I wrote a Static Cat Styrofoam Poem to go with it.  Static poems really don't need to rhyme.

Static Cat

Standing still
Stuff sticks
Styrofoam stays
Stunningly stippled
Staticky strands
Starry stalks

Stern stare

Spiny Pine

We have LOTS of trees on our 5+ acres, but this little one always catches my eye from our front window.  It's my weather tree, I guess.  I can see how deep the snow is, how thick the ice is, or how sunny the day is even, just by looking at this little fellow standing out there by itself.  It probably wasn't even there when we first moved in 14 years ago, but has finally grown up tall enough for me to notice.  He's (assuming it is a "he" anyway) a cute thing that perhaps next year at Christmas would like to be decorated.  He's been the star of the past few blogs, and this morning, I thought he deserved his own poem.  So here you go Spiny Pine.  I think that is his name now.  Spiny Pine.

Shiny pine out in the cold
Waiting for spring to arrive;
Ice has bedecked you,
Snowfall beflecked you,
How do you hope to survive?

Spiny pine with needles green,
Ever to be even now,
In summer or fall
You must have a ball
Though winter weighs on each bough.

Whiny pine yielding to wind,
Bending and bowing so low;
Keep trying to stand,
In spring you’ll be grand,
Stronger for trials in the snow.

Tiny pine, stoic yet small,
Someday you'll be tall and strong;
But still when it's cold
You'll need to be bold -
Winters in Maine are so long.

©Donna JT Smith, 2013

Thanks Mary Lee, for hosting the Poetry Roundup today at A Year of Reading.  Everyone needs to head on over there for links to more poetry to enjoy today!

Christmas is Coming Soon

Christmas for us will not be until Monday, so yesterday was a time of baking, cleaning and listening to Christmas carols.  It finally felt like a day to get ready for Christmas! I enjoyed the day at home. I made my Christmas Cake - pistachio, pecan, almond green and yellow coffee cake.  It's only available on Christmas week - maybe a few days before Christmas and up to the new year.  Then it goes away until the next year.

Christmas Night was time for family and church.  We went to evening services.  Just because it's Christmas, doesn't mean there aren't the usual open doors on a Wednesday night.  As a matter of fact it was kind of special feeling to have a post-wrapping paper clutter get-together, even though we haven't done that yet.

Our own children weren't around us, so I got to see my nieces and nephew and their spouses and children and give them attention that I might not have given otherwise.  I could hold the newest member of our family, my brother's daughter's infant.  I could delight in the four year old granddaughter, who came up to the pulpit to give her grandfather an impromptu kiss as he addressed the congregation.

I listened as my brother's son, now a preacher in his own right, gave a Christmas message.  Where did the time go?  I remember when he was four, standing on my couch, and I told him to get down...rebellion.  Now a preacher.  Still a bit rebellious...stepping over the carved cherry rail to get to the lectern and begin his message, saying "I've always wanted to do that!"

It was a day with my son working, and bringing him some cake to share with his co-workers, as he worked two double shifts for Christmas eve though the day after Christmas.  What a guy.   Some others could have a family Christmas time.  It was a gift to others.  Of course, he did make some extra pay for it... but it was still a great thing.  And we have to wait until his sister, her husband and their son get here anyway.  We're in no hurry.  We can celebrate this day any day of the year!

And it is snowing.  Again.  Snow over ice.

Friends of ours had a car accident this week and the father/husband is now in the hospital in IC.  Their son suffered a broken arm.  They are waiting to celebrate Christmas, also.  They are in no hurry now.  They will celebrate when everyone is home again.  They can add to their celebration the fact that they can celebrate together this year.

We will finally (weather permitting, again) do our church Christmas program with the kids this Sunday.  Snow and ice delayed the celebration.  But we are in no hurry.  We can still celebrate.  Every day is cause for celebration.

Christ's birth wasn't really December 25th anyway.  Maybe we'll accidentally celebrate it on the right day.

And really, isn't any day, the right day for a celebration?

Iced and now frosted... if a tree could shiver...