I posted something unusual over at The Barn Door this morning. Well, unusual for me. I am not a poet, but I have used poetry to express myself sometimes. In the spirit of spring and Easter, I shared two poems that I wrote many years ago. Here’s the shortest one below. Please visit the site if you want to read the other.
I should probably also mention that this month will be the last time I will be posting at The Barn Door. It’s a great site, and I hope you will check it out and follow them, but I’ve decided I’m just not an essay writer, at least not when there’s a deadline. I’d rather post something when an idea strikes me, rather than have to search for an idea to meet my deadline. Besides, at an author fair I went to today, I talked with a librarian who is eager to read my novel-in-progress, A Bull by the Horns. I need to use my writing time to finally get the book done!
Tears of blood
down his cheeks
raining from clouds
staining the sunset
on my cheeks
via The Barn Door: Incidental Poetry.
On Dec. 28, I posted a bit about holiday traditions I grew up with. What are some traditions you try to carry on with your families?
Here are some of the things I hope they adopt from a typical Donahue holiday. And a few I hope maybe they tweak just a bit.
- When my dad was alive, he loved to buy presents. Heck, he loved to buy presents all year long. But at Christmas he always had certain “traditional” gifts we could be sure to find under the tree. Like a package of underpants with the days of the week on them. (Remember those? I wonder if they still make them?)
- One of my sisters doesn’t like ham while the rest of are sick of turkey because of the enormous amounts of leftovers just behind us from Thanksgiving. So Mom always makes both a turkey and a ham, to keep everyone happy.
- When we decorate the tree, I have a few really old ornaments from my maternal grandmother that I always hang on the tree. They are the fragile kind, with lots of glitter that falls off a little bit each year. Frankly, they are looking a little worse for wear. But I always feel like a child again when I hang them on the tree, and feel extremely said should one of them happen to fall and beak.
via The Barn Door: Holiday Hiatus.
Fall. I love those moments when I can turn off my head and just be in the moment, aware of the changing season around me, breathing in the chill, crisp air. I must practice doing that more often, and for longer periods of time.
I myself welcome a reminder that autumn isn’t about what we do during it. Fall just is. It is as natural and inevitable as the rise and setting of the sun. Let’s all just take the time to be still and look and listen as it spreads its beautiful season across the land and skies. Breathe in the whiff of burning leaves. Rustle through a pile of harvested corn stalks. Feast your eyes on the colors of the trees as they sway in the wind.
via The Barn Door: The Focus of Fall.
It’s hard to get any work done on my novel Bull by the Horns when my research leads me to such fun and interesting sites like this one. This page makes me want to add more animals to the ones I’ve already created for my working farm/art colony/crime scene.
Here’s just a few of their residents.
Tigger and Pooh
via The Animals – New Life Old Farm.
I hope I don’t offend any animal lovers with this recent post from The Barn Door about my early days as a farmer. Just keeping it real. Click to read the whole post to get my drift.
I wish all humans and all animals could live together without fighting and strife and, you know, eating each other. Until that happens, though, I admit that I’m glad the sirloin and ground chuck and ribs I pick up at the supermarket are strangers to me now. And while my mother might think it was heartless to butcher and baste Big Brown, he does have a fond place in my memories.
via The Barn Door: I Miss Cows.