A Fresher Touch

The land is watered from 

dawn to dusk and into the night.

If I close my eyes and listen 

I am on Vancouver Island, 

yet with a fresher touch of cool.

“Light - dews - breezes - bloom - and freshness; not one of which

 …has yet been perfected on the canvas of any painter in the world.”

~ John Constable, painter

(1776 - 1837)

Unending

There is no end to reality

when the snow falls 

the sun shines

  the wind blows.

Reality greets us each morning ~ while we sleep it holds our space

To hear thunder crack

  To see a child’s face

    To feel currents of emotion

      To sense the delicacy of touch

There is no end to reality

when the rain falls 

the sun sets

  the clouds drift.

“It is one of those stories that you just want to keep going and going

 ~ even after the last page has been reached.”

~ Vicki M. Taylor, Forever Until We Meet

Air Flow

Glad handing and high fives 

never touching skin to skin 

pass the energy of welcome and yay! 

through the air dodging 

hovering viral party crashers.

“I must choose between despair and Energy - I choose the latter.”

~ John Keats, Letters of John Keats

In Touch

Vanishing into the cloud and computers,

music and words are saved,

retrieval at the touch of a finger.

Shelving our books and journals,

stacking our records and tapes,

retrieval is more that just a touch

An interplay of touch and sight and sound,

Poring through and poring over with 

Retrieval ~ a pleasant journey in touch.

“Touch has a memory.”

~ John Keats

Silent Senses

Standing silently outside

I saw

Bees floating 

Flower to flower

Standing silently outside

I felt

Warm sun bare arms

Cool breeze ruffling my hair

Standing silently outside

I tasted

Slender beans

Tucked in leafy shadows

Standing silently outside

I heard

Gulls crying

From the rooftops

Standing silently outside

I smelled

Tall grasses drying

In the lengthening summer air.

Standing silently outside

My heart softened and grew strong.

“…and then I have nature and art and poetry, 

and if that is not enough, what is enough?”

~ Vincent Willem van Gogh

Touching

To touch the future

is impossible

walking in heavy fog

feeling the dampness

my skin grows cold and wet

turning me towards the warmth of home.

To touch today

is always possible

where there is no fog,

only dusty memories

falling gently on precious items

keeping the warmth of home within.

To touch the past 

is impossible

the heavy fog of hovering memories

~ feeling the distance ~

my heart reaches out, stretches out

turning me towards the warmth of home.

To touch today

is always possible

clearing away dust and fog with a resilient spirit

spices to futures hopes and dreams

using many flavoured lessons from the past

 ~ home can be created that is safe and warm. 

“And he that strives to touch the stars, 

Oft stumbles at a straw.”

~ Edmund Spenser

Baby Talk

When I see any baby I smile.

No matter the mood I am in.

Happy or sad, full of energy or tired

My smile muscles work all by themselves

When I look into the eyes of a baby

My heart softens with joy

At the curiousity, trust and unknowing

That shines out from eyes blue or brown

When I hold the tiny, soft hand and feet of a baby

My touch becomes gentle and full of kindness

at this wondrous new softness 

that is exploring a world full of hard edges.

When I hear the laughter ~ or crying ~ of a baby

My heart bursts wide with exquisite love

wanting to share laughter or soften the hurt 

giving a tiny corner of myself to one tiny life

When I see any baby, I smile.

No matter the mood I am in

Happy or sad, full of energy or tired

I know our world will grow ever more beautiful.

“Every child begins the world again.”

~ Henry David Thoreau

Photo unavailable on blog site.

Creating Christmas

 

“Oh Christmas tree. Oh Christmas tree…….’

The children had gathered around the Christmas tree their grandmother had made for them. They knew she could create just about everything in the whole wide world. But a tree!?…”

And that’s where the story ended. Those few words had floated through my mind as I gazed at the Christmas tree that I had created. My own Inner Child had wanted not just the little tree I put up every year, but a tall elegant tree with beautiful decorations. And preferably a real tree.

Several restrictions placed in my life in the past few years didn’t jive with all those preferences - a real tree, tall tree, with elegance, and the time and transportation needed. Quite by accident, I discovered that I had several yards of evergreen garlands threaded on heavy wire with many little ‘branches. Without my permission, a vision began to form. A tree made with my own hands, but what to do about a trunk? Everyone knows a trunk is absolutely necessary to any good tree. So I was stumped - no pun intended.

When I get pulled up short when reality doesn’t fit my imagination I start doing other things. In this case, it was cleaning up the mess I had made with all the evergreen garlands strewn on my living room floor. One of them had pine cones on it. I started to coil it up so it would fit back in the carton I stored them in…………..that looks like a wreath. Again with the imagination! But what the heck. So I made a wreath that now hangs on my front door. I added a couple of jingle bells that had been left jingling around in my stores. A day later found a lovely bauble a friend had made and added the finishing touch. 

All the while I kept thinking about a tree trunk. Putting things away in my hall closet I spied a handful of six foot bamboo sticks. Hmmmmmm……..One would be too thin. What if I made a teepee kind of structure with three of them? I tried it and it just kept collapsing. In frustration, it was masking tape to the rescue. I taped the three of them together to make one solid, and very skinny trunk. Ok. Now what? A tall gold and silver brass vase almost shouted at me to be part of this mad bout of creativity. Did I mention ‘skinny’? So this ‘trunk’ just wobbled around in the vase. Not to be daunted I started winding one of the garlands and then found I needed two. As I worked the garland at the base filled in the gaps to steady my skinny trunk. 

All my little tree needed was to be decorated. Lights came first as always. I started with multicoloured and changed to tiny little blue ones. Then my one purchase - a $3.00 roll of gold ribbon with wired edges - an important part of my early vision. Still not quite done. Delving back into my store of decorations I found my beautiful, tiny, and shiny Christmas balls and hung them carefully. Standing back, my not so tall, not quite elegant tree looked a bit Charlie Brownish, but absolutely beautiful. But……one more touch. My angel with feathered wings!

There. I may not have trudged out in the snow to chop down my own tree in a beautiful crisp cold winter day, but bringing this beautiful tree to life has been so very satisfying and brought a lovely touch of Christmas to my home. 

“The object of the artist is the creation of the beautiful. 

What the beautiful is, is another question.”

~ James Joyce,  A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Author's note: Edited February 24, 2024

The Tell

The tell of respect is

A light touch

A firm handshake

A gentle offer of a helping hand

The tell of respect is

Honest eyes and ears

Space stretching wide or near.

Letting go ~ the only help to be given.

“Behaviour is the mirror in which everyone shows their image.”

~ Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

A Hands On Job

Nursing is a hands on job

Many times, many hours

Hands on the computer
Hands on medicine and intravenous
Hands on ….

  each contraption we are given to use where no curiosity exists.

All the in-between times
Hands on brows furrowed with what if’s 
Hands on trembling hands reaching for answers
Hands on shoulders beaten down by life.
Nurses are curious about the most effective ~ 

    a pill, a machine or a hand up.

Nursing needs the gentleness of a healing touch.

“In the end only kindness matters.”

~ Jewel

Touching Memory

Denim jeans and cotton sheets

Pillow case, a white cotton hoodie, cloth napkins and, yes, t-shirts ~ all warm and smooth after the glide of the hot iron.

Tactile release of invisible memories ~

a childhood little red iron that really warmed!

lessons about ironing on tea towels and embroidered pillow cases

pressing open seams of dresses and skirts made in my teens

enjoying even today the smooth feel of fabric on my skin

all despite developments so ironing can become part of home making history.

“Touch has a memory.”

~ John Keats

The Final Touch

It’s been a wonderful couple of days ~

Home-work that pleases

Cooking and cleaning, 

baking and laundry

Lots of writing, gardening,

touching base with friends and family from home and afar

But the final touch?

This evening's dinner with friends.

“A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg

even though [s]he knows that you are slightly cracked.”

~ Bernard Meltzer

(The added [s] is the blog author’s)