Lavender Blue for You!

lavender
Lavender in bloom at Carmel Valley Ranch

Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly, lavender’s green,

When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.

Who told you so, dilly dilly, who told you so?

Twas mine own heart, dilly dilly, that told me so.

—English folk song and nursery rhyme dating to the 17th century

 

 

 

 

Ideas are Very Cagey Things

Dear Reader:

Get to work before it’s too late!

That idea 

catch it

before it slips away 

An idea is a very cagey thing.

First you’ve got it

then you’ve lost it.  

Where did it go?

 Is it with someone else?  

Is that the idea?

 Does it wish to be caught

 expressed?

Surely.

It zips around alighting here and there until someone sees how splendid it is

how witty and wise

She catches it and puts it on paper or canvas or a blog.

There’s another.

Grab hold of it.

Reach out to it 

 Where does it carry you  

Do you fly or swim or float or glide or skip?

Ideas are very cagey things.

Have fun,

Michele

What’s at the Bottom of Your Heart?

Dear Reader:

I attended a half day writer’s workshop yesterday…you know the routine. After the facilitator reads inspiring works of literature, you are given a writing prompt and 30 minutes to record your thoughts. Usually, I’m not fond of the prompts, but I liked this one, so I thought I’d pass it along to you.

At the bottom of your heart…

At the bottom of my heart, there’s a mess

A beautiful mess

There are stacks and piles, bits and fragments,

Bright colors and blurred lines

All collected over more than half a century

It is a painful and joyous mix

It is particular and general

Fanciful and serious

It is, I imagine, not so different from what is at the bottom of every one else’s heart

And, yet it is uniquely mine.

There is the face of my very elegant third grade teacher who seemed to approve of me in the way I wished my mother had and often simply wrote “tres bien” at the top of my papers.

There is the memory of the summer day when I drove my shiny new olive-green 1967 Mustang down the street and the handsome guy stopped in the car next to me at the red light shouted out his approval.

There is a small herb garden just outside the kitchen door at my Nonnie’s house. I’m picking and she’s cooking just inside.

There is the note I’ve left on the counter for my grandmother 35 years ago stating that “Tom has picked me up for dinner and will return me at around 8 or 9 …. Or “maybe never” scrawled in his horrible writing below mine.

There is a smile that stands out from the rest. It’s the smile of a darling boy who grows into a very handsome young man but never has the chance to grow old.

There is an angel, Mary. Once a week for that horrible year, I came to her and spilled out my life. She helped me find my strength.

There is the Mexican family who served us dinner for years in their tiny restaurant, and also opened their hearts to me and my family.

There are the faces of neighbors and friends who have come and gone but will always remain.

There is the doctor with the heavy German accent, the stylish blonde hair and the sensible brogues worn with fashionably simple black under her white coat. I trusted her with my daughter.

And my daughter, so difficult in birth, yet so easy in life. My joy.

There is a push and a pull at work in this very messy heart. It can be difficult to leave the door open. It is not without pain or risk or effort. But it is not yet full.

I’d love to know what’s at the bottom of your heart, dear reader!

Sincerely,

Michele

 

 

From a Scrap of Paper

Dear Reader:

I found a scrap of paper! You must have some, too!

 for my daughter

my prayer is that you know

know that you are loved

and carry that love with you

wherever you go

reach for it when you are glad

call upon it when you are sad

and, in return, that love will

strengthen you when you feel weak

warm you when you feel lonely

celebrate with you when you succeed

and envelop you all your days

Mom

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