Thursday, 15 November 2018

Poetry Monday on Thursday: Someplace Warm

So, it seems I owe Poetry Monday a poem . . .

The topic this week is "someplace warm" . . . Join Diane and I as we visit this subject at a time when our Canadian weather is heading for "someplace cold" . . . (Delores is on hiatus for the time being.)

Travel with us to your own warm place -- where would it be? Feel free to leave a poem in the comments on either of our blogs, or on  your own blog -- if you do that, please leave a note in the comments to let us know how to find you.


Daughter and family are safely landed in their new city far, far, FAR away . . . and we had a good final visit with them before their departure. I have carefully filed away those good memories in a safe place in my head, right beside the storage spot for my name, so I'll be able to retrieve them easily. And now that the wrench of seeing them leave has come and gone, I am able to start looking ahead to the time when we will see them again.

Close to home, our weather is not just heading for someplace cold, the cold has arrived with snow and gale force winds. Just after Daughter and family flew out of Nova Scotia, we got walloped with an early snowstorm. Within twelve hours, the snow was gone again -- washed away by rain and a sudden rise in temperature. Within another twelve hours, the red line in our outdoor thermometer had dropped like a stone and the wind had come up. Result: -20C (-4F) with the wind chill factor, and it felt every degree that cold.

Boom -- winter! Boots, scarves, winter jackets and gloves -- all hauled out of the back of the closet and gratefully worn.

And along with all the winter clothing, I've got memories to keep me warm.

Read on.


Warm Places

A southerly latitude would be warmer by far;
Or a day in mid-summer, whilst inside a closed car;
A fire in the stove would be cozy and roasty;
Wearing sweaters and socks would be nearly as toasty;

But the things that will keep me the warmest, somehow,
Are the memories I'm wrapping myself in right now.

Hot chocolate, and love.

 (Photo: Pixabay)



Update:  Next week's theme is "the things we build" . . .



Monday, 12 November 2018

Poetry Monday . . . delayed this week

There will be a slight delay as Donkey waves forlornly at Daughter and family as they disappear into the wild blue yonder . . .

But here's a consolation poem:

Photo courtesy of

As Arnie in all his movie incarnations was fond of saying: "I'll be back . . ."

Monday, 5 November 2018

Poetry Monday: Common Sense

It's Poetry Monday, and this week's topic is "common sense."

Join Diane and I as we try to make sense of common sense. (Delores is on hiatus for the time being.)

You can leave your poem in the comments on either of our blogs, or if you want to post it on your own blog, please leave us a comment so we can find you and cheer you on. Use the topic or not; the objective is just to exercise our brains and have fun.


I had a whole long meandering post written about how I'm not really sure what common sense is, and whether you're born with it or if you can acquire it through actively seeking knowledge and experience, and how I've never, ever been accused of having it (which feels like it's probably a bad thing,) and how some things that come easily to me don't come easily to other people, and vice versa, and I wasn't really getting anywhere with the post except making myself so bored my eyes were rolling around in my head, and I figured in the interest of not driving everyone away I'd better get right to the poem.

So I did. Here it is. It's the same thing I just wrote except the lines are shorter and there is punctuation. I hope your eyes don't roll around in your head.


Common Sense

What is common sense?
Is it something
We are born with?
Or do we acquire it
Through experience?
I am curious
Because I feel I lack it
And I've been trying
My entire adult life
To develop it.
Tell me.
Tell me what you think.

Is it something you're born with?

Or can you learn it?


Thank you for reading. Apologies for a rather lacklustre poetry effort. My mind has been very occupied with our daughter's impending move to the USA. The leaving date is one week and one day away. I'm feeling pretty bleak as the date gets closer.

Wishing you a good week, my friends.

Update:  Next week's topic is . . . "someplace warm" . . .

Monday, 29 October 2018

Poetry Monday: Halloween

It's Poetry Monday, and this week's topic is Halloween. Join Diane, Delores, and me as we knock on all the doors in our brains and yell "trick or treat!" and see what happens . . .

You can leave your Halloween treats poem in the comments on any of our doorsteps blogs, or post on your own blog, in which case please leave a hairy eyeball comment so we can find you and eat your brains cheer you on! I don't know how those extra words keep finding their way in, but trust me, you're about to be frightened out of your wits safe here with me! Mwahahaha . . .

* * * * *

Well, the craft sale is over, and I am mostly recovered. All four fingers on my left hand fell victim to hot glue, and I burned my arm brushing against a hot oven wall, but on the plus side I didn't burn a single one of the fifteen dozen oatcakes that I made to sell, so the whole "luck" thing balanced out. I spent almost everything I made on products from the other vendors (to give for Christmas and birthday gifts), so the whole "money" thing balanced out, too.

And then, just like that, it was Sunday night, and I had nary a line of poetry written.

But I had been thinking about it, in between hot gluing my fingers ornaments and baking my arm oatcakes.

And here's what I was thinking: after falling down the basement stairs last Halloween, that date is inextricably linked to the concept of "hurt" in my brain. When I think "Halloween," I think "pain." Isn't it strange how the mind works?

My back, which took a hard hit on the corner of a stair, took a couple of months to "come right" as they say, but I also hurt the last two fingers on my right hand, and they are almost back to normal one year later.

How did I hurt my fingers by falling on my back? I was letting our cat up from the basement, and going down the stairs to get her food and water, incidentally also carrying a small fake pumpkin to put into storage for another year. This was the pumpkin . . .

Has a mean look to it, doesn't it?

 . . . and because it was awkward to hold, I had my index and middle fingers through the eye holes. When I fell, I must have whacked the pumpkin (and my hand) against the stairs, too, although I didn't feel it at first because my back hurt like crazy. I'm assuming that hurt cancelled out the other hurt.

I'm also assuming the pumpkin put a spell on me to make my fingers take so long to get better, as payback for sticking my fingers in its eye holes, and also for cracking it in half when I fell. I used my trusty glue gun to fix it after about eight months, because I was tired of seeing it on the kitchen counter and being reminded of my Halloween trip (haha, pun intended), but the damage to me and the damage to Mr. Pumpkin clearly balanced out, just like the crafting burns and the oatcakes and the money in and money out at the craft sale.

Anyhow, I actually went for an x-ray at about the six month mark, because it was still hard to write and carry things, there was still pain and limited flexibility in those fingers, and I wanted to know if there was any damage to the bones before I went for physio. It took so long to get the x-ray taken and then get the results back that my fingers had improved some more by then and so I said to heck with physio and just kept using my fingers as best I could for housework and so on. Home style physio, if you will.

So . . . that's the long preamble over with; here's the poem.

* * * * *

Pumpkin's Revenge

Halloween was finally over for another year.
Pumpkin Head had done his best to fill the kids with fear.
Donkey headed down the stairs to store him in a trunk,
Fingers in his eyes -- and then she landed with a thunk.

Mr. Pumpkin split in half, and thought that he would die.
He said, "My life is over, and I've never made a pie!" (haha, another dreadful pun)
His pride had suffered, too, from being carried by his eyes;
"That's no way to treat a friend!" he thought -- a silent cry.

He listened to the Donkey's moans, and grinned a bit in spite.
"I guess she's hurting too," he said. "It serves her bloody right!
"She thinks it's just her back that hurts but I've a clever plan:
"I'll put a hex upon the frailest fingers on her hand!"

And sure enough, within the day, how Donkey's misery grew.
Her fingers pained and swelled and then they turned all black and blue.
A year went by and it was nearly Halloween  again --
A year with Pumpkin's awful curse: The Double-Finger-Sprain.

We shouldn't judge the Pumpkin for his lack of empathy --
His head is filled with empty air; his eyes, they cannot see.
But you can bet the Donkey will be handling him with care,
Not poking fingers through his eyes when taking him downstairs!


Have a Happy Halloween! Please don't take any unexpected trips!

. . . And be careful with your decorations . . .  😈


Update:  Next week's topic is . . . common sense . . .

Monday, 22 October 2018

Poetry Monday: The Grandma/Grandpa Club

It's Poetry Monday, and this week's topic is The Grandma (or Grandpa) Club.

Diane, Delores and I are all Grandmas, but if you're a Grandpa -- or if you're neither -- you can still join us in crafting a poem. Leave your offerings in the comments of any of our blogs, or if you post on your own blog, please leave a comment telling us how to find you. The point of this challenge is to exercise our brains and have fun.


I've been a grandma for a bit less than four years. We have two grandsons, who live within driving distance, but only just close enough for a day trip. With two cats requiring a lot of care at home, our trips are all day trips.

Something is about to change, though. In a big way -- and not in a good way.

In less than one month, our daughter and her husband, with our two little grandsons in tow, are moving very, very far away; on the opposite side of our continent and out of our country. They are moving so our son-in-law can take a new job. The current plan is to work "away" for five years and then move back to Nova Scotia.

As you might imagine, I am pretty sad about the moving away part. I am sad for our daughter, who would rather live in NS (although she has come a long way in accepting and even starting to be excited about some aspects of the move). I am sad for me, and for my husband, and for our moms, who are both elderly. A lot can happen in five years. And a return to our province is not guaranteed.


It can't be changed, so it must be endured.

And, in some ways, even embraced.

I am happy for them that they have this opportunity -- to earn, to travel, to have new experiences and to meet new people.

I am also very grateful for the internet -- email and videoconferencing, especially. We aren't the first grandparents who will keep in touch in those ways, and we won't be the last. Many, many young families from our province have moved west (mostly to Alberta) for work, and if you're out of easy driving range, it doesn't matter if your loved ones are in Alberta or on the west coast of the USA, as ours will be. Face to face visits will be few and far between, and if we want our grandchildren to recognize us when we see them in person, Skype (video) is a great help.

(And I am a terrible traveller, so Skype is good in another way -- no worries about food issues, bathroom issues, sleep issues, motion sickness, or finding a cat-sitter!)

Anyway, all of that is the background for my poem today. It's another short and simple haiku, because I keep getting emotional and can't see the screen for the tears.


Two Little Boys

Such tiny humans
To have so captivated
Your families' hearts

The Donkey's grandsons. In real life they are not donkeys, of course. But the Awww factor is the same.


Before I go mop up my face, may I just wish you a good week, my friends -- one where, if necessary, you endure and even embrace change, as hard as that may be.

Update:  Next week's topic is (unsurprisingly!) . . . HALLOWEEN-N-N-N-N . . . Mwahahahaha  😈