Goodbye Summer

Feathery fronds of florescent-yellow flowers wave goodbye to summer,

 From road banks and fields. 

As a young girl, walking the hills of our farm with my father,

I asked him what those beautiful flowers were called.

"Goldenrod," he answered.

Every fall since then, goldenrods remind me of my father,

And those bittersweet last days of summer.

I'm in My Cups

To be in one's cups actually is a phrase that means to be inebriated. Lately, I have been in my cups. Now that I have your attention, I mean I am enjoying my mugs of coffee and an assortment of warm herbal teas. More than the liquid inside the cups, I appreciate the cups themselves. Below are some of my favorite cups and why I love them.

The reason I like this gift from my daughter is obvious:
three sweet grandkids who are now almost grown up!

I bought this mug when my sister Janie and I went to Cape Cod.
We climbed up to the top of a lighthouse. Good times! 

My dear friend Ellen gave me this cup for my birthday. It says, "Hello, Gorgeous"
on the outside and assures me I look lovely as I take a sip. Compliments are always welcome, especially first thing in the morning when I haven't even brushed my hair yet.

My Pioneer Woman mug: The poppy painted on it reminds me of my mother's flower bed,
and it fits in my hand so nicely.

This cup, a gift from my son and his wife, makes me smile. Mr. Rogers shares some of his favorite sayings, such as, "Infinity just is, and that's the way I think love is, too." Another is "The child is in me still, and sometimes not so still." Appropriately today and every day, he says, "When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, and less scary."

When I pour hot liquids into the mug, Mr. Rogers magically changes out of his suit coat into his sweater. It makes me smile every time. I texted my daughter-in-law recently to thank her again for the mug. She replied, "You and Mr. Rogers have a lot in common." That made me smile even more!

There you have it, my post about being in my cups. I am finding joy in the simple treasures within my home. Do you have a favorite cup or mug? I would love to see a picture of it in the comments below.

Revisiting Country Woman Magazine

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   Thirty years ago, I wrote a poem to my husband for Valentine’s Day. It was a thoughtful but cheap gift. At the time, we had bought a farm, were raising three children, and did not have much extra cash for presents. I submitted the poem to Country Woman magazine. Imagine my excitement when I received an acceptance letter and a check for the poem. Even more thrilling was when I received a copy of the magazine in the mail with my beautifully illustrated poem.

   Recently, the magazine celebrated its 50^th anniversary and asked readers to share their favorite feature over the years. I wrote the letter below and was pleased they chose to publish it in the February/March issue. (Update: When I wrote the letter I didn't know yet that by the time the magazine actually arrived, we would be blessed with great-grandchild #5.) 

   While I didn't receive a check this time, I did get a free copy of the magazine and a nice letter saying they looked forward to seeing more of my work. Maybe I won't wait 30 years to send in another submission.

1990 Magazine Featuring My Poem

2020 Anniversary Issue Containing My Letter

Snow Falling Softly on the Pines

Today I notice the snow falling softly as I look out of my living room windows this morning. First come tiny flakes I can barely see, but then they gather strength and increase in size. The white flakes show off best against the tall green pine tree in my front yard. We planted that tree on my daughter Valerie’s 16^th birthday. It is huge now. (No offense, Val. It hasn't been that many years ago, right? Pines grow quickly.) I am no good at calculating yardage, or I could tell you how tall it actually is.

I look at the neighbor’s snow-covered fields and our own pastures and pretend to be at a ski resort. I open the doors of my black Grizzly wood stove to see the orange and yellow flames inside and pretend I am lounging in front of a fancy fireplace.

*Slurp* I drink a mocha cappuccino in front of the fire. I’m happy to be cozy at home. I don’t have to pretend about that at all.

Long Branch Lake - December 13, 2019

When my husband asked me to go fishing with him today, I said yes. The weather forecast predicted a high of 50 degrees and mostly sunny skies. After packing a picnic lunch of mini-subs (ham, turkey, Colby jack cheese and hard salami piled on hot dog buns slathered with Miracle Whip) and potato chips, we were off in our old red fishing Jeep.

I actually didn’t fish. I wandered down the walkway to the fishing dock and onto the point. On my way back, I went down to the beach and walked along the water’s edge. Mine were the only human footprints in the sand. Looking closely, I saw tiny little branch-like lines where sea gulls hopped. They also left behind a sprinkling of white feathers. I noticed the larger track of a goose and the hand/paw print of a coon. I followed a deer trail, wondering why it followed that particular route on the beach.

The water reflected the blue and white sky in places, but around the edge of the lake it mirrored the brown grass and bare trees. Does water have color? 

A gaggle of Canadian geese glide atop the cool water. Do their feet get cold?

For those of you who are wondering about the fish, after a slow start, they did start biting. Blaine caught enough fish to keep our traditional "Fresh Fish for Sunday Supper" streak going. Life is good.