ODE TO A BOY

Bob collected all things John Deere. He grew up on a farm, but farming was not his profession of choice. Anything would have been preferable to farming. Nevertheless, he respected those who chose to live that life and was proud of his heritage. That may be why he had such a fondness for John Deere memorabilia. For him it represented the stalwart nature of people like his dad and mom, salt of the earth people with integrity, grit, and tenacity. His happiest day on the farm came when his dad bought a tractor (not a John Deere) and retired the horses.

ODE TO A BOY
Oh, you powerful beasts,
muscled and strong, built for labor
hitched to heavy wagons
or tillers or plows as need may be.
You were all so much bigger than he,
a wee lad who wanted to please his dad
by driving those horses to each chore
fearless he, this boy, in days of yore.

That determination stayed with Bob his entire life. He loved his work. He loved his family. He did his best. It warms my heart when people speak of him with respect and affection. His happy place was his office, and his most satisfying activity was taking care of patients. It has been more than four months since he passed from this life into the next. I miss him but am grateful for the nearly 44 years we had together. And, yes, I expect to see him again, someday.

Feeling Fanciful

Happy Fall! It’s that time of year when it’s not quite autumn but it sure feels like it. This is my favorite time of year. There is no aroma like that of chile roasting and the vibrancy of color as vegetation sheds its green and prepares for winter, at least in parts of the country and the world. I can’t imagine waking up every day to blooming flowers and greenery in abundance. I like the seasons, all four of them, even that one called spring that blows through like a whirlwind.

AUTUMN MEDITATION
A perfect photo op,
the single sunflower sits atop
a sturdy stem swaying in the wind,
it does not break, nor does it bend.
Sitting there against a sky of blue
its pristine beauty hardy and true.
I want to paint it in words sublime
as I watch its silent swaying mime.

TREE TROLL
There is a troll in my tree,
only I can see,
that’s okay he will be
what he will be
and entertain the child in me.


IN MEMORY…

Good grief! It’s been too long since I posted ANYTHING on this blog. Heaven knows who might actually see this, but if you do, please know I look forward to your comments.

As many of you know, my dear and amazing husband Bob Vander Meer, passed away on May 30, 2024. What follows are reflective poems honoring his memory. I confess to not paying attention to ‘poetic form’ and wrapped my heart instead around what I was and am feeling. We all grieve in different ways. I am so grateful to my family and friends for their love and support and presence, and for continuing to be there for me every day.

TIME
This is the moment.
Seize it. Do not
look to later
for by then,
it may be too late.

CHANGE
Life changed for me today,
not at all in a good way,
but possibly for the best
my husband is at rest.

He Is standing at Heaven’s door
painless and upright now and ever more.

MISSING YOU
Today is the next day
without you,
missing your voice
and seeing your
quirky, lovely smile.
I miss you.
Be at peace, my love,
and filled with joy
as you dance
with the angels
to the music of
Lawrence Welk,
and tell Jesus
your dear wife
says, ‘hi’.

STARTING NOW
We are now a me
and right now,
I don’t like it.
I never will.

You are an essential part
of who I am.
Will I go on
without you?
Of course I will,
but I’ll miss you
being beside me
every step of the way
all through the day.

HORIZONS
Clouds bunch and thin,
regroup into whimsical shapes,
like my mind and heart
creating life in new ways
as I move forward
without you by my side.
You remain in the essence
of who I am…
…that will never change.

STOP
You would think the world would STOP!
so I could breathe
and process
and grieve.
But it does not.
I rely on the healing nurture
of nature and the presence
of God in every leaf and cloud
as I find my way,
toward peace and joy each new day.

LAUGHTER
Life goes on
Altered by a new reality.
Used up and sad for now.
Good news!
He is here!
The God of all
Eases light into each day,
Rays of peace and hope.

THE BEACH
Landlocked and far from lapping waves
that wash upon the shore,
memory takes me there
where blue-grey waters
stretch to the horizon
and I am at peace.

TREE WHISPER
The shush, shush, shush
sighing through the trees
sing songs heard
deep in my soul,
quieting my spirit.

UNTOLD
How much do we not remember
of days gone by? Or do we recall
with little veracity at all,
only what puts us in a good light
doing only those things that are oh so right.
On this my 80th year around the sun,
I vow to be joyful and share the fun
of living in thankful anticipation
of every moment of grand elation.

PISMO
Sandy shores and waves
washing upon the beach,
water stealing away our footsteps
as we walk hand-in-hand.
These memories etched
indelibly on my heart.


First photo we were both MUCH younger 😊. The bottom photo was taken several years ago on our last visit to Pismo Beach, CA, a place we loved to go.


SEASONAL SILLY

GHOST
(An acrostic poem)

Goulies grumble,
howlers mumble,
other worldly sounds a jumble,
sighing, crying, wailing, all around
talking, talking their eerie sound!

BOO TO YOU
Hootie tunes and shrieking screams
scary thingies in your dreams.
On this haunted, hunted night
what next on tap will give you fright?
Creeping, leaping, jumping, sneaking
is that a ghost at whom you’re peeking?

Tiptoe back, slither down the hall
when spooky phantoms on you call.
Get into a warm and comfy bed,
pull the covers o’er your head.

Sweet visions conjure into being,
ignore the specter on the ceiling.
Come out and play, he moans,
Halloween lasts but a day, he groans.

Laugh, laugh away your silly fear,
the pumpkin grin will bring you cheer.
Gliding ghouls are hosts to you
waiting, waiting, and then – BOO!

WALKING IN OCTOBER
There, clouds riding high
in a brilliant blue, blue sky.
Further along blackbirds cluster,
feathers flap with wicked bluster.
A shedding tree bares its limbs,
dropping leaves like floating gems.

A pumpkin here, scarecrow there,
a ghostly presence to give a scare!
The air is fresh with a little bite,
woodsmoke smell of fireplace alight.
Oh, the joy of an October walk,
listening to Mother Nature squawk and talk.

HAUNTED HOUSE
The sorry sounds of ghostly howls
run down the walls like blood
from cuts deep into the weary hearts
of any who tread the halls
of the empty house left to dead dreams.

Once filled with flash and fun,
now memories cluster in corners
left to rot like abandoned meat
nibbled at by rats and brindled cats
prowling the creaking floors where human feet tread no more.

CROW DOWN
The crow cawed its eerie cry,
people shuddered as they hurried by
until the second settled in
bringing luck with its wings tucked in.
A third arrived, a sign of health,
and brought one more, the fourth for wealth.
No, no! here comes number five, does illness loom?
Yes, yes the sixth arrives bringing death and doom.

WHISTLING WIND
The sound abounds and sighs around,
growing soft then shrill as a broken wheel
crawling up my back in a fright attack.
From where does that sound whirl
making hearts cringe and toes curl?
Why it’s nothing more than a piece of tin,
whistling, whistling in the wind.


Halloween 2023. The photo is the resilient flower box by our front door. Seemed fitting for my Halloween-themed poetry. Enjoy!

MOTHER TONGUE

I come from a
mixed marriage,
a brown mom,
a whiter than white dad.
We never thought
we were different
until we went to school,
me whiter than white,
my older brother
browner than brown
in a most amazing and beautiful way.
We never learned
Mom’s mother tongue,
I wish we had.
Spanish is a lovely language,
filled with nuance
and passion
and an element of story
rich in days gone by
and hope for better tomorrows.

Memories

Laughter and tears,
one friend to another
we bonded in love
and blossomed
in the garden of life.
I miss you, heart sister.
Thanks for the memories

In Memory of Kathy Allen


Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.

No Promises

No resolutions for 2023. If the past three years have taught us anything, it’s that nothing is certain. The joy of today can be quashed in a heartbeat by unanticipated, sometimes horrific reality. No, I have not abandoned my faith and Pollyanna approach to life; like you, I’ve just seen one reality-check after another in these days of Covid, inflation, RSV, flu, insane politics, wars everywhere, travel meltdowns, homelessness in ever-increasing numbers, devastating natural disasters… GASP! GASP! GASP!

What we have also seen is the generosity of one human toward another. Strength beyond imagining in people who lost homes and livelihood to fires and flood and war and more, people who, despite their own challenges, stepped in to help neighbors. We are not past the impact of devastation. Therein lies a whole other hill to climb and hopefully overcome. In the case of the Calf Canyon/Hermit’s Peak fire and subsequent flood, will insurance provide the means by which loss can be recovered? How or will FEMA help or hinder? What resources are available to get reliable answers?

The onslaught of lawyers promising the moon is mind-boggling! I’m not sure lawyers are the answer. Here is the link to FEMA if you don’t already have it: https://www.fema.gov/disaster/current/hermits-peak.

Click below to open a two-page brochure with helpful information. The timeline extends into April 2023.

Below is my end-of-the-year poem. It is intended to be hopeful and maybe a wee bit helpful as we head into 2023. And really, when you think about it, January 1 is just another day. Be at peace with yourself and others, day by day.

NEW YEAR’S EVE 2022

There is reality in today,
hope in tomorrow.
Lean into the promise,
rest in the certainty
we live one day at a time
as best we can.
Let that be enough.
Some days will be wonderful,
some make us wonder –
how will I survive and thrive?
May the darkness of doubt
flee before the rising sun of hope
always on the horizon.


Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.

DECEMBER REFLECTION

Blue is the color
of sadness.
When the world seems
gilded with
a happy golden glow,
some grieve
others founder
on the shoals of loneliness.
Tragedy does not
take a holiday.
Take heart,
there is hope.
Someone cares.
That is the story
of the manger.


Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.

SHADES OF AUTUMN

HAPPY FALL

Brown and gold,
orange and yellow,
signs of fall,
oh, so mellow.
In the pot
beside the door,
petunias flutter
a magenta roar.
With gladsome flaring
these floral sisters
accent with daring
whimseys of change.


Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.

TIME

Time,
we believe
we have so much
when in truth
time spools out
like thread
on a spindle
weaving together
with other threads
creating a tapestry.
Your thread,
my thread,
can break
at any time.
I pray to consider carefully
the choices I make,
the actions I take
so the thread
from my spool
adds goodness to
the tapestry of life
before it breaks.


Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com


Unless otherwise indicated, all content on this site is created by me. I appreciate likes, shares, and comments.