Daffodils

 

An ode to Daffodils,

It's their laugh that thrills.

Sturdy in springtime chills,

Soothing many ills.

Temporary though they be,

Beauty for eyes to see.

Beckoning the bumble bee,

Nectar unto thee.

 

RM. 4-2022.

 

Cool April morning

Sun is endeavoring

Blue crocus in spring

Daffodil sing.

See the Daffodil sing.

 

RM. 4-2022.

Sharing Flowers Makes My Day

 

AS AN ADULT, I PLAYED TENNIS AND ENJOYED SKIING.  AT THE AGE OF 72, I RETIRED FROM PRACTICING LAW. I CEASED SKIING BUT DID PLAY TENNIS FOR A FEW MORE YEARS AND THEN EVEN GAVE THAT UP. TO MAKE UP FOR THE END OF THOSE ACTIVITIES, I BECAME INTERESTED IN GARDENING. I HAVE A LARGE FRONT AND REAR LAWN AND I PLANT BULBS AND A VARIETY OF PERENNIAL AND ANNUAL FOWERS.

 

     IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD THERE IS A PRE-SCHOOL WITH MANY YOUNGSTERS INCLUDING SOME WHO HAVE PHYSICAL DISABILITIES. WHEN THE WEATHER IS FAVORABLE, GROUPS OF THESE CHILDREN ARE TAKEN FOR A WALK IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD. IF THEY PASS IN FRONT OF MY HOUSE AND I AM ON THE LAWN WORKING IN MY GARDEN, I ASK THE TEACHER, IF I MAY GIVE EACH OF THE YOUNGSTERS A FLOWER.  AT THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, I HAVE BLOOMING DAFFODILS AND I CLIP A FLOWER FOR EACH CHILD AND IT IS ALWAYS ACCEPTED WITH A SMILE. LATER ON, I MAY HAVE A VARIETY OF OTHER FLOWERS WHICH IS WHAT I WILL THEN GIVE EACH CHILD.

     WHEN I AM FACED WITH THE YOUNGSTERS CLUTCHING THE FLOWER, MY EYES SHED A TEAR OR TWO. THE ACTIVITY IS, WELL WORTH IT FOR ME, AND I CANNOT THINK OF MOST THNGS I DO THAT SO TOUCHES MY FEELINGS.

BEN HABER   

Walking

 

When I walk, I think …. a lot. 

It was raining this morning; my sneakers were wet through and my old blue umbrella is so old it is hard to keep open.  

I was stopped at a corner waiting for the traffic light to change and the words “loyalty and love” came to mind.  

It occurred to me there is a difference between love and loyalty.  

Loyalties change. 

Love does not. 

Loyalty revises and grows one way or the other. 

Love encompasses like water. 

Loyalty is written in duty, warps and melds and shift.  

Love is a blanket wrapping us warm and safe.  

Lost in thought I didn’t notice the traffic light changed two times. I laughed to myself and noticed a woman watching me to see if I was OK. I crossed the street.  

Still raining. I walked my usual mile to and from home and landed back in my apartment wet and barely able to close my old blue umbrella.  

Boiled a cup of tea and quietly examined where my loyalty lies and whom I really love. 

Georgia 

SPRING 2022

 

An interesting thing happened at the opening of Spring 2022. On March 15, 2022 the US Senate passed a bill and signed into law-making Daylight-Saving Time permanent beginning November 2023.  

The ‘fall back” and “spring ahead” was modeled after European laws designed back during World War I in order to conserve energy.  Our government decided to update this law to accommodate modern times.  

Clocks tick and tock and keep us on time or record our procrastination. That is a clocks job. Clocks have no influence on Mother Nature or all of us very busy human beings and human doings.  

I don’t think the sun or the animals or flowers or plants have any objection. They continue to grow and live the way they have since the beginning of civilization.  

A bee will buzz in the sun making honey.  A cheetah will hunt at night. NYC does not sleep no matter the time.  New babies will be up when they are hungry. The earth will spin and the seasons will change and the Sun will continue to take care of us regardless what the clock says.  

Georgia
March 2022 

The Glory of that Garden

 

As I leave work tired, drained and famished from another day of working with the grammar school population, I start the long, uphill walk to retrieve my car.  I think about how much I love my job and I feel positive. Then, thoughts of home and the responsibilities of taking care of everything by myself fill my head and my mood starts a downward spiral.  As both positive and negative thoughts carry out a balancing act in my brain, I try to keep focused on the long walk to my car.

The next moment…there it is!  Not my car but the most beautiful rose bush I have ever seen, dancing with the wind in the front yard of a garden filled with flowers of every color! The red and white swirl of each rose is an artist’s palette where colors are mixed gently until just right. How beautiful this colorful mix of red and white is in a garden of common, solid-colored roses.

As I stop to admire the beauty of this moment, some of the flowers have become delicious candy canes with patterns of interchanging red and white. The same candy canes that I loved to eat and hang on the Christmas tree when I was a little girl.

I’m so drawn to this rose bush that I get up the nerve to stop and take a picture of it, even though I’m fearful that the owner of the house will come out and not be happy with me at all.  The beautiful red and white petals start calling to me, “Come back during the moonless night tonight and bring a scissor with you. Then you can snip some of our flowers and enjoy them at home. Not many people seem to notice or appreciate us, including the homeowner, so it will be alright if you sneak a few.”

I started walking again in the direction of my car and actually toyed with the idea of waiting to nightfall to do exactly what that beautiful rosebush told me to do. Then, as if coming out of a trance, I asked myself, “Where in the world did I park my car?” only to practically bump into it because of my preoccupation with artists’ shades of red and white paints and candy canes at Christmas time.

My next thought as I sat down in my car and put the key in the ignition was, wow, I’m definitely more tired and famished that I thought I was. It’s time to drive straight home!  I made a mental note to remember to put a pair of scissors in the car for a late night adventure.

Ellen

March 2022

Mosquito in A Speedo

 

A Mosquito in a Speedo is a silly thing to say

Although it could turn a day cheerful that was once as gray as clay

A Butterfly in a Tie seems much more apropos

Certainly more conservative as the words begin to ebb and flow

A Caterpillar in Galoshes brings a faint smile to the lips

While a BEE in a Bonnet might make you weak in the hips

A Beetle floating in a Walnut Shell could quite clearly be amusing

As he precariously tries his hand at a little Nautical Cruising

Conjuring these mental images could certainly brighten up your day

But a Mosquito in a Speedo is the silliest thing I can say….

 

Jim Mar 2022

Poppa's Tree

The tree on our front lawn was beautiful. Poppa loved it and said it was the reason he bought our house. When he came home from work and walked up the front lawn, he always stopped to admire the tree. He believed the tree recognized him and smiled at him as he approached it.

When we were small, Poppa would put us high up on the trunk and let us jump into his arms, which we did without being afraid, knowing he would always catch us. Sometimes he let us hang from one of the branches and let go, Poppa catching us just before we reached the ground. It was a warm spring afternoon, and we were playing on the lawn. A gentle shower began to fall, and we laughed as the drops splashed upon our faces. The wind which had been as gentle as the rain, suddenly became angry and we saw fast moving black clouds in the sky.

There was a loud clap of thunder and a flash of lightning. The clouds blocked out the sun, day turned to night and heavy rain fell. Momma shouted to us from the front door to quickly come in. We ran towards her and by the time we reached the house, we were soaked to the skin. Once inside, we ran to the front window to watch the storm. The wind grew stronger and Papa's tree twisted and turned with the wind. It seemed to be fighting for its life and looking at us for help we were incapable of giving. Then the tree, as if it decided to fight no longer, surrendered and with a sigh, toppled over. We looked at the fallen free, hoping our tears would somehow pick it up. Our tears were still wet when we saw Poppa park the car at the curb. He got out and as he walked up the front lawn, he stopped as he always did to look at the tree.

When he turned towards the house, there was sadness all over his face. He came inside and said, “I will not let the tree die. Get dressed and follow me.” He took us into the garage and gave each of us a shovel. We went to the fallen tree and pointing to the shallow hole the tree made, he told us to dig. We began digging. The rain and wind did not stop and soon were soaked. When the hole was big enough, Poppa told us to stop. He then tied a large rope around the tree, stretched it over the trunk of a tree at the curb and pulled on the rope with all his might. His clothes were so wet they stuck to his skin and we could see the strain and bulging of his muscles. Slowly the tree began to rise. Then with one last tug of the rope, the tree tipped into the hole and was upright. Poppa came over, called to us and we shoveled all the dirt back into the hole. When it was finished, we stepped back and looked at the standing tree with Poppa at its side. The wind and rain stopped as suddenly as it started. There was a break in the clouds and the sun appeared with its rays directly on the tree and Papa. Looking at the tree and Poppa beside it, it seemed to us he was as tall and straight as the tree with his roots planted deep into the earth. We knew that as long as he was alive, if life caused us to stumble or fall, Poppa would be there to pick us up and everything would be all right.

Ben Haber