Tuesday, August 25, 2020



Early morning fog over the mountains of Santa Cruz, California

I used to live 

in a land that was

 covered by fog. 

 Or, so it seemed!

When I lived with the fog,

 I felt at times, 

that it was taking over my soul. 

 It burrowed 

deep in my thoughts and emotions and 

felt too heavy 

to bear at times.

Smoke over the mountains of Grass Valley, California, from my kitchen window


 I live in a land

 that is covered in smoke. 

 Or, so it seems!  

 Living with the smoke, 

it makes it hard to breathe, 

the acrid odor that occurs

 is something nasty 

that takes me back 

to a scary place in my youth 

when my grandparent's house 

burned to the ground and 

the only thing left

 was black char and that horrible smell

 that happens 

when water hits burning wood and 

lingers in the air

 for what seems like forever.

Early morning sun, in a smoke filled sky, as seen through my kitchen window

The sun,

 though covered with smoke,

 is a ball of fire, 

spreading the heat

 like an unrelenting torch.

Ash is falling 
over every available surface. 
It even has entered 
into our screened porch.
  I wipe it down each morning,
 come evening
 there it is again.

Even when we are safe 

in the Cottage, 

with all the windows and doors closed, 

it feels as if 

somehow or other

 the smoke has crept in.

When the world 

we look out at is right,

 life is good.

  Isn't that how it always is? 

We count our blessings and 

feel pretty pleased with ourselves and 

the world around us. 

 When things start to become 

a little off 

that is when the weakness 

that we all have within us 

tries to take over. 

 Some times

 it is harder than others

 to get us back on track...

...but there are 

always ways.

I am finding it interesting to look back

 - one year ago -

 and see how my world was then.

August, 2019

It appears that 

the zinnias were thriving 

next to a pretty green lawn...

August, 2020

...not at all 

the same sight

 I see today.

August, 2019

The Chinese Lanterns 

were bright and vibrant, 

just starting out 

to welcome the fall...

August 2020

...not the limp and lifeless sight 

I see now.

August, 2020

The Crepe Myrtle tree, usually so full and bright, is just a former shadow of itself, with blossoms falling almost before they have opened up on the tree.


there is a soft, pink haze

 that settles over all.  

That sounds so much like

 a pretty description 

if it weren't so tragic.

  The hills are ablaze 

around California 

with people losing their homes

 not too far from us. 

Three nephews were evacuated 

from their homes 

down by where my kids live, and 

there is ash and embers 

covering most all in between and beyond. 

California is a beautiful state 

with much to offer and 

even though there are 

people already suffering here

 from everyday living, 

now they have to contend with

 the added burden of

 the virus and the fires.

It doesn't always seem fair 

how this old world goes around, and 

sometimes it seems almost impossible

 that it can

 return right side up...

...but there is 

always hope and 

whether we live in a world 

covered by fog 

or by smoke

 or somewhere in between...

...we can dream 

of a better tomorrow.  

One that is 

as good as our yesterdays and 

one that will be 

so much better than today.

We would like to send 

all our thanks and humble gratitude 

to all the fire-fighters 

that came from near and afar 

to help keep us all safe.

 Jake's best friend, Parker, 

is one of those angels

 that have put their lives on the line

 to get the job done. 

We thank and love them all.


Stay smart,

 stay well, and 

remember to wear your masks. 

Sharing today at:

Love Your Creativity at Life and Linda

Tuesday, August 18, 2020

The Language of Flowers...


I really don't have 

anything much to talk about this week. 

 I still have two sessions left 

of physical therapy for my back, 

it really feels 

much better than it did at the beginning, and

 I don't want to push the envelope

 of the dreaded virus too far,

 so have decided to hold them over 

in case I need to go back

 for a tune up.

With nothing new to talk about, 

I will just let 

the flowers do the talking.

  The language of flowers 

is universal 

so they will say to you 

what you like.

As I write this post,

 I am heartsick.

  Words really can't express 

what I am feeling now. 

 There is something really unforeseen 

happening within our family now

 that I will talk about 

sometime later.

Until then 

I hope you will understand 

that I am using the language of flowers 

to tell you all how much

 I care, until my words can do the job. 

 I don't mean to be maudlin or dramatic. 

 It is just too soon 

for me

 to share my feelings.

Stay smart, 

stay well and 

wear your masks.


A dear friend 

mentioned that 

the black color background 

made her feel a little sad. 

The funny thing is 

that while I was preparing this post,

 before I read her comment, 

I was thinking that I would change it.

 It is the right thing for me now.

  Thank you, dear friend.

Sharing today with:

Love Your Creativity at Life and Linda


Keep In Touch at Let's Add Sprinkles

Tuesday, August 11, 2020


I have always thought
 that I was not
 a big fan of the color green 
except in nature. 
 If you checked out my closet
 you wouldn't see any there. 
 I have never 
painted a room that color,
 but then looking back over 
my plans for this post,
 I find that green 
is woven into my life 
way more than
 I had ever thought.

I have painted
 the guest room dresser 

...and, at Christmas,
 there is more green seen
 than ever before.

We chose a shade of green
 for the screened porch
 because while sitting there
in the heat of a summer's day,
 looking out over
 the Secret Garden...

 ...it gives the feeling
 that we are at one,
 sheltered and covered,
 by the tall trees

Even the Cottage was green
 when we first saw it and
 fell in love.

The one green object
 that I know of 
that seems I have had forever 
is the painting of 
the little house in the woods 
that belonged to my grandmother.
  As a very small girl 
I remember, maybe my first memory,
 it hanging in her log house 
that my grandfather built and 
that she was so proud of. 
 It is a 
treasured piece
 to me.

A few years ago 
this was the prettiest hydrangea bush
 in our garden.  
It was so full and pretty,
 loaded down with big mop blooms of
 pink, lavender and blue.

Here is that same bush today.  
It was slow to leaf out this year and 
then the blooms were very tiny.
  They started out 
with the pinks and blues, 
but then they turned 
this greenish blue color...

...very pretty,
 but not what 
it normally does. 
 I decided to pick them and 
bring them inside
 for a touch of 
summer green.

I floundered around 
in my "home owned thrift store" and 
came up with
 some pieces of green accessories 
that I have. 
 I am thinking 
this is an appropriate styling 
for late summer. 
 By doing this 
it has forced me 
to do some badly needed cleaning
 of the sitting room. 
 Is it just me 
or does anyone else wonder
 what it is about a pandemic 
that brings out the lazy
 in a person?

I refreshed the shelf 
where the sunflower paint by number 
is still sitting and...

...added different pillow covers and
 put the old wagon/coffee table 
to rights and since 
I didn't have any green pillows, 
I added a bright spot
 of summer color 
with the sunflower ones.

Then the next move 
had to be back 
to the green hydrangeas 
with faux sunflowers.

It is good to have 
a little change
 once in awhile.

Speaking of change,
I would like a little honesty here now.
 I found a new friend 
who uses black as her background.
 I think her blog looks magnificent. 
 So I thought I would try it. 
What do you think? 
I like it either way 
so your opinions 
won't offend me in the least.

 I found that
 I could not figure out
 how to change anything
 using the new blogger 
so I reverted back 
to the old way
 in order to do this.
 We better get 
all our ducks in a row 
before they do away with
 the old blogger permanently. 
I thought it was easy at first, 
but now I'm finding out otherwise.

It is wonderful
 to be able to sit 
in a clean room,
 surrounded by blues, and
 to be green without envy.


As I was writing this post, and 
my mind was wandering (as it so often does)
 I thought it might be fun
 to look back exactly one year and 
see what I was 
writing about then.

 As it turned out 
it was amazing to me
 what the subject turned out to be.

 Why at this point in time
 did I think of doing it? 

We were all hurting 
from gun violence.

 Violence occurring in
 Gilroy, CA one day, 
 El Paso, TX the next and 
Dayton, OH after that.

going school shopping for their kids
 gunned down in their tracks 
in Walmart.
one year later,
 they are dealing with 
sending their kids back to school 
during this pandemic.
Nothing much has changed and
 it has only gotten worse
 at the same time, and 
the worse is 
continuing to happen.

Only one year ago.


Here I am with my two grandmothers 
in front of the old log house and
with the roses climbing on the porch
in the early mornin' sun.

  I came across 
this little poem and
 would like to share it with you. 
Since we are spending
 more time in our homes, 
I thought it was
 a sweet reminder
 of what we have.
 It reminds me of 
a little bit of blarney and 
if you think 
I may have gotten my seasons mixed up
 (talking about Mardi Gras last week and 
blarney today) 
it is just a side effect 
from too much time on my hands and 
doing everything I can
 to direct
 my attention elsewhere!!!


"Ye've got to sing an' dance fer years,
Ye've got t' romp an'play
An' learn to love the things ye have by usin' 'em each day;
Even the roses 'round the porch must
Blossom year by year
Afore they'come a part of'ye, suggestin' someone dear
Who used t' love 'em long ago, an'
Trained 'em jes' t' run
The way they do, so's they would
Get the early mornin' sun,
You've got t' love each brick an' stone
From cellar up t' dome
It takes a heap o' livin' in a house
T' make it home."

Edgar Albert Guest

Stay smart,
 stay well  
wear your mask
and have a wonderful week.

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