Today's Flowers

Tulip - "Angelique"

Another beautiful flower from my daughter's garden.

Today's Flowers is a weekly Meme created by Luiz Santilli, Jr. and may be found here. Please visit to see others' lovely flower photos. If you have a flower photo of your own to share, please join us.

ABC Wednesday - "M"

"M" is for Minnie Mouse Quilt

In 1939, when I was 5 years old, our family lived in El Paso, Texas. My mother had a dear friend, Mrs. Barney P., whom we children called "Mrs. Pahdough" because we couldn't properly pronounce her last name. I don't know for sure, but I think the P. family did not have children of their own, and sort of adopted me and my younger sister. But "Pahdough" and I especially loved each other. At some time that year, so that I could have my very own quilt, she made a series of twelve quilt blocks, each featuring Minnie Mouse, a Disney character that was all the rage at the time. Each Minnie is dressed in a different outfit, with a different umbrella, hat and shoes.

As fate would have it, our family moved from El Paso to New Mexico before the quilt could be constructed. My mamma kept the blocks put away in tissue paper, pending the day she would have time to make the quilt. In 1950, we moved to Arkansas, and the quilt blocks moved with us, sheltered safely in Mama's cedar chest.

Finally, in 1954, in the summer before I was married, the ladies of my mother's Sunday School class constructed a quilt using "Pahdough's" blocks, and it was given to me by my mother as a wedding present.

What does a 20 year old with her head in the clouds know about taking care of a hand-made quilt? I used it on my bed until my children were born, then it covered their beds in turn. It had milk and hot cocoa spilled on it; it went to the laundromat; it was used to wrap breakables when we moved. By the time I had sense enough to realize what a treasure I had, it was just about worn out.

But, wait.... it's the surrounding QUILT that's worn out... not the blocks, even though the colors are a bit faded (but not as much as I would expect from fabric 70 years old), a few of Minnie's ears have worn spots, and there are one or two places where the applique stitch is beginning to ravel. I still have hopes of carefully removing the blocks from the worn out pieces that hold them together, and having them reset into a quilt for a grandchild, or a great-grandchild.

(detail from a block)

In the meantime, the bed covering I have always called "Pahdough's" quilt is resting, wrapped in tissue in my own cedar chest.

ABC Wednesday was created by Mrs. Nesbitt. Please visit the ABC Wednesday site to view others' interpretations of this week's letter, "M."

Today's Flowers - April 12

A fringed tulip from my daughter's garden

Wishing everyone a blessed and happy Easter Day.

Today's Flowers is a weekly Meme created by Luiz Santilli, Jr. and may be found here. Please visit to see others' lovely flower photos. If you have a flower photo of your own to share, please join us.

A Poem

RESURRECTION SONG

We were buried in the dark, rich earth,
Our bodies covered with the fragrant soil
Of Kansas plains. We slept,
And within us, life stirred,
Impatient to be born.

In due time, we burst from our shrouds,
Thrusting our heads through disappearing snow
Which sheltered us from bitter cold
And from wind which would have ripped us from the womb.

The sun warmed us; Earth nourished us;
And for a season we grew tall,
Bending our golden heads to gentle rains and summer winds
Gaining strength that we might meet our destiny.

Then, it was time.

They took us from our birthplace.
They set us free to fulfill our purpose,
To begin our journey into a world where men
Have treasured us, long before recorded time.

We were dispersed to the corners of the world,
Welcomed by peasants and kings; then crushed,
Never again to exist in previous form.

We were joined with water, proved by fire,
Then broken and consumed. The dust of our bodies
Became men's flesh. We received life from Earth;
Our deaths returned life as a gift to man.

But, some of us were saved, and in the fullness of time
Will repeat the cycle of death and birth;
Will be buried, then spring to life again.
The soils of nations far from our beginnings
Will be the tombs from which we rise.

Patricia Phillips, 1992

For the background of this poem, and how it came to be written, I invite you to read yesterday's post.

Photo taken from Kansas Wheat * Kansas Wheat Commission

What Starts Out One Way Ends Up Another

In my blog profile, I state that I am an amateur poet, and that I am: a gross amateur. I don't think in poetry like some folk do, and never (or almost never) have written a poem just because I wanted to write a poem; I usually have to be inspired, and it can be years between inspirations.


Once upon a time, I did consciously decide to write a poem, but it didn't turn out all like I had intended. The background story (I'll try to keep it succinct) is as follows:


I worked in downtown Little Rock, in an area filled with businesses and a variety of eating establishments which catered to the lunch crowd. One of these, quite close to my work place, was called Your Mama's Good Food, run by a married couple. He was the cook; she was the server/front person. They specialized in "home cooking" and their yeast rolls, made by the husband, were, as they say, "to die for," the best I think I have ever eaten. I often would ask for a half-dozen extra rolls to take home with me for supper that night. One day, after consuming a roll, or maybe two, with my lunch, I said to the wife, "These are so good someone should write a poem about them. I think I'll do it."

And so I did.


To keep this story brief, suffice it to say that it took me quite a while to give birth to this particular poem -- more than a year, actually, through many strike outs and re-dos. The end result was not about their yeast rolls at all; the idea "morphed" into something completely different. I will leave it to my readers to decide whether or not it is actual poetry.


The title of the poem, Resurrection Song, was given to it by a lovely, lovely man by the name of Harding Stedler. Mr. Stedler, Professor Emeritus of Shawnee State University (1995), is a member of the Executive Board of the Poets' Roundtable of Arkansas and vice-president of the River Market Poets (information I found on the Internet after Googling his name tonight.) In 1996, he lived in a nearby town, and sponsored a poetry class at the local library for "interested persons." I was privileged to participate in his class for a brief period, but this poem had already been written. When I submitted it to him for his critique, he helped me "clean and polish" it a bit, gave it a title and added it to a few poems he published in the local paper at Easter that year. So -- I am a published poet, be it ever so humble a publication.

I have some trepidation about posting a resurrection poem that is not about the resurrection that most Christians around the world, myself included, will celebrate on this coming Sunday, although I believe that, if one sort of reads between the lines, it does have a spiritual meaning.

I will post my poem tomorrow, Saturday, April 11.

ABC Wednesday - "L"

"L" is for

The building shown above is the newest addition to the municipal buildings in my city. A part of the Central Arkansas Library System, the grand opening of the Esther Dewitt Nixon Library was held on February 14, 2009. This building is a much-needed improvement on our former library, which was housed in an old and relatively small, flat-roofed building. All things considered, the accomodations might have been OK except that the flat roof gathered and held excessive amounts of water during heavy rains, which we often have here. Twice in the last five years, parts of the roof gave way, causing extensive flooding in the library, and even worse, much damage to the books in the stacks.


To my discredit, I haven't been involved in community affairs to any extent during the years I've lived here. However, I am a book-lover and the last episode of flooding caused me such consternation that I went straight to the mayor's office to express my displeasure and to urge the funding and construction of a new library building. I don't assume to take any credit for influencing the final decision to do just that, but was delighted to see it come to fruition during my lifetime. I've watched the progress of construction from ground-breaking to the grand opening. It doesn't hurt a thing that it is located within walking distance (on one of my good days).


The interior is spacious and well-arranged, the stacks are full of books with new, transparent covers (even the old books look new again), there is a generously-sized meeting room, a new and cleverly decorated children's area, benches and chairs upon which to sit and read, and an ample area designated for the new computers, which are available to any library patron. All in all, a wonderful improvement.


Not seen in the photograph because of the angle from which I shot is is the gently pitched roof! No more water accumulation!

ABC Wednesday was created by Mrs. Nesbitt. Please visit the ABC Wednesday site to view others' interpretations of this week's letter, "L."

Being a Pessimist...

...is not necessarily a bad thing. I suspect that I've been a pessimist all my life, even as a child.

I try not to be dismal in my pessimism, nor infective, and I tolerate, yea, even love, my optimistic friends. However, as a pessimist, I am hardly ever disappointed. Also, when I discover that things didn't turn out to be as bad as I expected, I experience many joyous moments.

A JOYOUS thing is this snippet garnered a few minutes ago from the local ABC television station (KATV) web site:

"Chilly across Arkansas this morning, but for most of us the sub-freezing temperatures did not occur. The reason...winds remained high overnight and kept the coldest of the air from settling down to the surface. "

Yes, the winds remained high. Each time last night that I stirred in my bed to the point of semi-consciousness I could hear my windchimes, and the turbine vents on my roof, one of which has a slight squeak as it turns. Music to my ears!

The sun is shining. It may be only 42 degrees outside, with a wind chill of 36, but it's beautiful, and my patch of Stars of Bethlehem is still bravely standing!