December 1st, 2012


More and more often these days, December brings this great poem to mind:

“How did it get so late so soon?
It's night before it's afternoon.
December is here before it's June.
My goodness how the time has flewn.
How did it get so late so soon?"

-- Theodor Seuss Geisel

Yes, it is December 1st already. And indeed how the time has flewn.

The joyous spirit is in the air already. My daughter learned math at first by counting the days to holidays she loves I think. It is a good thing, time.

It amazes me more each year how it does fly. Time does fly, just as my grandmother told me it would, especially the older we get. And she preached to make the most of each moment. She begged us to embrace youth, and that we revere time while it ticks and tocks and enjoy it. She was right. As long as I embrace it, time, each moment rocks, good or bad, happy or sad, each moment has its right to exist, each tick-tock making one or the other more momentous. Time. It is a thing to be appreciated. She knew I would not understand this as much as I do now. I am thankful she told me way-back-then though. Because now I can hear her words still, so strongly in my mind.

There is so much to love in each moment of time.
--PPM

Magnolia Springs Library

Poem for Magnolia Springs Library

19 July 2012

There is a place I know where the children go

ages one to 100 and two.

So much can be done there,

fun activities abound where,

here,

learning is background to boot.

Our library is part of Baldwin County’s public system

-- a fabulous group in itself.

If you love to read? Want to learn and discern?

Nearly any book can be brought to your shelf.

                            Welcome to Magnolia Springs Public Library

-- --

Many thanks to our librarian, Alida Given, for her enthusiasm and commitment to making our quaint library the lovely environment it is. As Mrs. Alida might say, many others have helped her along the way to make the library a great place to spend a lot of your days.

Early Bloomers in Our Home Town

                                                        Photo by Molly A. Klaas

photo by Andrew Monaghan

Fungus is among us and it is lovely.

Wonderful World

17 May 2012

The most amazing thing happened today. The first magnolia bloomed in one of the many magnolia trees in the front yard. This particular tree is lackadaisical by nature. It is a late-bloomer. Maybe you can relate? Other magnolias are blooming all over town. But this…this one tree likes to wait. Make us anticipate. Anticipation is great, so no complaints. Waiting is fun. So each year when this tree’s first bloom appears, it is an event. After all these years doing its thing slowly but surely, it is amazing grace on a tree. A gift.

Seems this tree has a purpose for me. Each year it reminds me of the wonder of ‘firsts’—first loves, first kiss, all those things you remember as Firsts. The first time you rode a bike and looked back to see no one was holding you? Your first job? First hurt, first time you realized middle-age is a quirky time when you must re-learn every thing you thought you knew all over again. That mighty tree is proof everything happens in its own sweet time, not on any one or anything else’s schedule. The simple act of a wait-on-me magnolia blossom relates to that? I think so, maybe because I was as late a bloomer as this magnolia.

It is creamy white and fragrant. It unfolds on the tallest branch so no one can reach it. It does not give a hoot about keeping up with its peers. Its peers were donning themselves in blooms weeks ago. Yes, this magnolia births its first blossom so high no human could pick it without ample effort or equipment to reach the mighty treasure it put forth for nature’s sake only. It does not want to be a short-lived cut flower floating in a bowl. Admittedly I float and will continue to float many magnolias in a bowl, but not from this tree. It is different. It demands its efforts be, respectfully, left alone to do what it does best: bloom and re-seed.

Happy Birthday 2012, Michael

March 3rd

So many brothers I know are just fine yet

I would not trade the world for mine.

He is kind and smart, handsome and giving.

He is there for me always,

without fail he is loving ... in ‘all creatures big and small’ ways.

Sure, we had our spats in our younger days but

now, as we get more set in our ways

our bond is as special as Grandma Lalla’s pound cake lemon glaze.

Made with love it was so complete.

That glaze was such a yummy treat.

She made it just for you, because

you are just as sweet, oh dear brother of mine.

I am so grateful, my brother, we have each other.

After all, siblings are the only ones who share the

Mitochondrial DNA with one another (ha).

That said, no other ‘understanding’ can compete.

Happy Birthday, Michael.

May all your days be bright.

Thank you for all the guidance and insight.

There is goodness and love in all you see and touch.

Happy Birthday, Michael.

I love you so much.

Love,

Pooh

Elegant

Elegance

18 January 2012

She had the most down-to-earth air of well-deserved arrogance. That is what my friend said about my grandmother. Spot-on correct, he was.

Of course she would have flipped her wrist and pursed her lips at such a comment, as if to say ‘oh bosh’ I have nothing of the sort. She was not arrogant in the nasty sense of the word. It is just, well…she knew who she was, firmly and with conviction. The difference between right and wrong was as simple to her as snapping peas.

She knew what she was on this earth to do, and she did not mind telling you if you had just acted a fool, albeit fool is a word she did not utter, and she did not allow us to say it either. She said it was a sin to call someone a fool.

I used to tell her she was a saint. Quickly she would retort, “A saint I ain’t,” knowing full-well she would not allow us to say ‘ain’t’ lest we planted it in a clever euphemism.

But my grandmother was a saint to all who knew her. Gone more than 15 years or so now, we all hear her words still. Her wisdom resonates in our lives. We sit up straight when we remember to b/c now we have to remember it all by ourselves without being told. She is a treasure to have and to hold in our hearts for ever, my grandmother.

PPM