Category: Morning Meander

This one morning, pale blue sky
an unknown passeriform flashed white wing at us,
half of the moon flirted with us,
frost and strawberry blossoms,
focus down, down, find it in the small noticings.

Here’s to three decades,
and here’s to three more.

(I feel that JWH, being as earnest and wise as she was in 1870, would today address her remarks to all the mothers of the world without regard to their faith tradition or gender identity.~ LFSA)

Again, in the sight of the Christian world, have the skill and power of two great nations exhausted themselves in mutual murder. Again have the sacred questions of international justice been committed to the fatal mediation of military weapons. In this day of progress, in this century of light, the ambition of rulers has been allowed to barter the dear interests of domestic life for the bloody exchanges of the battle field. Thus men have done. Thus men will do. But women need no longer be made a party to proceedings which fill the globe with grief and horror. Despite the assumptions of physical force, the mother has a sacred and commanding word to say to the sons who owe their life to her suffering. That word should now be heard, and answered to as never before.

Arise, then, Christian women of this day ! Arise, all women who have hearts, Whether your baptism be that of water or of tears ! Say firmly : We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies. Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage, for caresses and applause. Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience. We, women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country, to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs. From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own. It says: Disarm, disarm! The sword of murder is not the balance of justice. Blood does not wipe out dishonor, nor violence vindicate possession. As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil at the summons of war, let women now leave all that may be left of home for a great and earnest day of council.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead. Let them then solemnly take council with each other as to the means whereby the great human family can live in peace, man as the brother of man, each bearing after his own kind the sacred impress, not of Caesar, but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask that a general congress of women, without limit of nationality, may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient, and at the earliest period consistent with its objects, to promote the alliance of the different nationalities, the amicable settlement of international questions, the great and general interests of peace.
~ Julia Ward Howe

I awaken to snow, real snow, almost two inches of gorgeous, soft, white, clean, sparkly, dainty snow

And it’s still falling,

And I am enchanted.
Again.
By fresh snow.

That’s it,
that’s the spell on me (or part of it), that’s the trip-wire anyway –

Snow.

And I am whisked away to Faerie.

It has happened!
I awoke from a sound sleep,
excited into wakefulness
by a dream about the perfect grading rubric.

Objective,
Clear,
Accessible to all levels of mastery!

Now, this got me up, dressed,
dogs fed,
coffee made,
ready to work now before sunrise and take a nap later – it’s 4:30am, friends, that’s how much adrenaline pumped!

Although, on reflection,
“One point per comma”
does not seem quite as useful as it did when I was asleep.

We found a new place for throwing the bouncy ball –
it’s a spot with three different throwing-direction possibilities.

A good day.

Happy Sun-return, my dear one.

The oak is no longer small but is mighty,
and other small ones climb in their safety and listen to their stories.

She is a Golden Girl, clad in green, eyes dancing,
feet dancing,

Swift and sudden and ageless.

Last night, yes!
I went out to meet the Stranger at the Crossroad.
Yes.
And I met him.
And we were not strangers,
though at this meeting, I learned more of his shapes and forms,
His scents, his voice,
His love.

I made a small poster to remind me of first principles:

Joy
Love
Clan
Truth
Honour
Courage
Welcome
Kindness
Abundance
Boundaries
Communication
Responsibilities

and here’s the thing, the words “Joy” and “Love” were written so small. At the beginning of the page, I was worried about whether the letters would fit at the end. Also… Joy and Love? Hard to write (thanks, ancestors).

But I did write and made it pretty, silver pen on black paper, and I even hung it up where I see it every morning coming down the stairs. It’s partially behind a beam, so I see it from bottom to top:

Responsibilities
Communication
Boundaries
Abundance
Kindness
Courage
Honour
Truth
Clan
and the place were I messed up and didn’t do the letters properly in proportion.

Less comfort that you might think (well played, ancestors).
So, I took apart my office and I’m cleaning out the east end of the attic and putting the office there.

Found the silver pen yesterday.
It’s not dried up, it just needs shaking (ha! metaphor).

And I embellished Joy and Love until they are both proportional and outstanding in the strength and beauty of their letters. Yes, old ones. I insist.

Joy
Love

It is confirmed:
water tastes better from the other dog’s bowl.

Oh, YES, you beautiful, amazing world!!!

the first lupines are tentatively pushing out of the dark and offering a solar sail,
and the strawberry gals crept in during the night,
and the wild will always win in time.