Loose Leaf Notes

– The following 2019 review was done by excerpting the first line or few in one post from each month last year. You can click on the name of the month for a full accounting.

January –  If ice is a fool’s diamond, then I am a fool because I’m attracted to all that glitters, and water is more valuable than any cut gem.

February – A wise woman’s wilderness at the bottom of a cup rises like a lost continent that foretells a last sip. It grins like a rainbow from a black scrying mirror. Across my sunbathed reflection, it bends to the future.

March – Writing is like flying a kite. You need the muse like you need the wind for it to take off.

April – When the squirrels raid the birdfeeder, I chase them with a broom like Mr. McGregor chased Peter Rabbit with a rake. The towhee is back and the robins are aloof.  I’ve taken to calling the mourning doves “cry babies.”  It’s funny how purple finches are really red and redbud trees are more purple-pink than red.

May – Last week my grandson Bryce told me that his 5th grade class was banned from saying “Big Chungus.” “Why?” I asked him.  “Because we were saying it too much,” he answered.

June–  “Being under the big tent was like being cocooned. We felt there was a deeper sharing,” Judith Stevens said about The Little River Poetry Festival. “The simplicity of our festival – we barely had an electric light bulb last year – belies the actual power that we experience in connection to each other for three days,” added festival co-founder Jack Callan.

July – Sometimes all it takes is a basil mozzarella quesadilla and some up-for-grab-fries with friends to say it’s “Floydfest.”

August –  Lying on a rock with my camera in hand and on my lap after hiking to the Cascades waterfall, I said to my sister Sherry, “This is how you should bury me.” I thought about how we buried our dad with his remote-control clicker in hand, but my sister told me it was actually scratch tickets.

September –  What’s the difference between infinity and eternity? “Spelling.” That’s what the first person I asked that question to at Floyd YogaJam Infinity this weekend answered. Someone else said, “One is always and the other is forever.”

October – One by one, the monarchs are passing like hikers on the Appalachian Trail, like tourists waving goodbye to admirers on their way to the next town.

November –  I was thinking about getting my daughter-in-law a birdhouse for Christmas but then I remembered she had three cats.

December – Someone got a black light for Christmas. Someone else wore a piñata hat after it was opened with the force of a baseball bat. If our annual Cookies and Kahlua Neighborhood Christmas Eve Party  was a scene from A Christmas Carol, my son Josh would be the Ghost of Christmas fun.

___________Read The Rear View Review for 2018 HERE. /Our World Tuesday