Asked and Answered

The last line of Mary Oliver’s poem A Summer Day reads “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?” 

Such an intriguing question! How ever do I answer it so I say the right things. Spending my days 

experimenting with sourdough, 

or trussing a pork loin, deciding what spices to use or folding clean laundry, doesn’t exactly sound wild or precious. And in the time 

between all of those things, I am bent over a page writing, as I did when a 

child. Then I was cutting out paper dolls 

and designing their ball gowns; now I am 

writing stories, poems or life lessons and 

answering Mary Oliver’s question. Also 

not wild or precious. Well, maybe precious. 

Do I want more? Not right now. 

Right now can get rather wild, and right now 

is precious. So I bid you goodnight and leave 

you with the same question:  “…..what is it 

you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

“Tell me, what else should I have done?”

~ Mary Oliver, The Summer Day

Author's note: 

Asked and Answered inspired by The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

 

Tired

From a distance I could see

the sunflowers resting against 

white stucco. Stubborn plants, 

with tall, thick stems that hold 

their heads high until their life 

span ends in autumn.Their heads hold life for wintering birds, so while their long, woody stems grow tired, and their heads are bowed, 

their life energy lives on. If they could hope, it would be that they remain leaning against the garage until spring. Feeding the birds, and 

maybe a squirrel or two.

“….balancing the wish to be lost with the need to be found.

~ Billy Collins, Questions about Angels

I Voted Today

It is so easy to vote. 

Picking up the little pencil 

secured with string is easy.

An x beside a name isn’t hard. 

But getting to the voting booth 

is inconvenient. But are the candidates known to me? Sure there are other errands to do, 

but to include voting? 

I’ve been back in Regina since 2020. Taking the time to know the politicians has not been at the top of my list of things to do until this year. Listening to politicians vying for control ~ whether here or down south ~ 

shows them up. All cut from the same cloth. 

“I can fix it, you can’t’’

“Your ideas have no merit; mine are the best.” 

More grandiose, depending on the politician, 

but still the same. A lot of mud slinging with little substance.

It takes me back to a Monday night Explorers meeting 

in our church basement when I was about 13.

Odd that, in the 50’s, our leader was talking politics to us. 

She posed a question that has stayed with me through many elections:

“Who should you vote for ~ the man or the party?”  

There have always been women in politics, 

but it was not the norm. Today that question 

would read ‘the candidate or the party? 

So I listen to and watch debates. 

I want to see the candidates, 

I want to hear them and 

I want to witness their behaviour. 

Then I make my decision. 

Weeks ago it was the U.S. election

Today it was the Saskatchewan Provincial election. 

“If you don’t vote, you lose the right to complain.”

~ George Carlin

The Little White Space

There is always time. 

Time for another cup of tea 

or to stretch and yawn. Time 

to work out; ‘break a sweat’ 

is how they put it. 

When I pay attention to the 

tick, tick, tick of a clock it 

seems that time has its own 

space ~ that little white space 

between one black line and 

the next. So it would seem that 

there is no time to get even 

the tiniest things done except 

to take a breath. The birthing 

of green eyed digital clocks 

made time a lot easier. At least 

one would think so; never seeing

the little space of time between 

the black marks; never hearing 

the tick, tick, tick like a tiny 

hammer on our brain. But no, 

we all just sped up, ignoring 

the passage of time. Getting 

out of breath and wanting a 

tall oaken grandfather clock 

in the corner so we could see the 

pendulum swing and hear the 

tick, tick, tick of the clock. Then 

we would know that there is always

time in that little white space that is life.

“Time is what we want most, but what we use worst.”

~ William Penn

Just Teasing!

More flowers than snow!

Barely visible, there was 

no cause to worry, this 

first snow of the season. 

Flakes hovered before 

melting against the still 

warm pavement. Warm,

at least compared to the 

icy miniscule snowflakes. 

Water droplets, suspended 

from railings and eaves, 

remnants of early morning 

rain set a confusing picture. 

Are these snowflakes 

a tease to remind us that 

winter is, to use a cliché, 

just around the corner? 

As if we had forgotten! 

To those of us who prefer 

warmth, toques and gloves

were hurriedly jammed on 

heads and hands, coats 

bundled around shivering 

torsos. Tho' snow still lingered, 

my snow boots took a test run

certain to be winter ready ~ and 

weather truly was just a big tease.

“Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.”

~ Mark Twain

How Do We All Survive?

“Be courageous” they said 

but didn’t speak the meaning

“Be brave” and still 

no meaning came with it.

So I kept these words inside 

my heart to use another day 

until I could find the meaning 

that was true for me to live. 

Challenges in life were met as 

ordinary and spoke to meet

a moment's demand. Past unsettled 

times reviewed, revealed a big surprise.

Fast or slow, life rolled on each day. 

When years had passed, life settled 

in peace and quiet, despite 

detours, road blocks or open skies.

“Be courageous” they said 

and the meaning came clear

“Be brave” and now the 

meaning was revealed.

“There is a stubbornness about me that never can bear to be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me.”

~ Jane Austen,  Pride and Prejudice

Simple Pleasures

Thoughts tonight 

are of strawberry jam and cornmeal muffins. 

Simple pleasures that complete my evening. 

The only disturbance ~ winking lights of air craft 

barely the size of a star,

crossing the ancient lines of the Big Dipper. 

It seemed offensive to mar the perfection of 

the night sky. They flew on and I could feel 

the awe that I felt when I was ten, or 20 or 

some other age on any other cool, crisp night.

“Simple pleasures are the last healthy refuge in a complex world.”

~ Oscar Wilde