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Posts Tagged ‘farm’

 

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

Join the Two Writing Teachers blog for the Slice of Life Challenge.

I don’t know how I have come to be so blessed.  If you’ve been keeping up with my blog or Facebook posts, you know I spent two weeks in Tanzania, Africa, a gift from my amazing mother-in-law.  And today, I am in upstate New York at Tara Smith’s farm.  Like Tanzania, the nights and mornings are cool, and that alone is reason to leave South Louisiana in the mid-summer.  Unlike Tanzania, this place is lush and hilly and green.

On the farm, I can breathe slowly.  I feel an energy for just being present.  Tara is a perfect hostess.  She ran down the hill from her writing spot five minutes ago because I asked for a lap blanket.  Our dinner was fresh and delicious beginning with Caprese salad and ending with sliced watermelon.  This morning, blueberry pancakes, my favorite.

I was trying to remember how I got here.  Not in a geographical sense, but when did I meet and become so attached to these friends?  I am here with Tara, Julianne, and Kimberley.  (They are each writing a post today about our time together.) The fact is I can trace each friend back to this very space, my blog.  We met through a commitment to writing and sharing our lives with each other.  Connections happen here that I do not plan or predict or that I even realize are happening until a day like today.

 

Julianne traveled from L.A. and I traveled from LA. to be together on a hill in Washington County, NY.

This is Tara’s house on the farm.  It is as lovely and charming on the inside as you can see from the outside.  I am back in time to a place of stillness and grace.

This is Sophie.  Every farm needs a dog like Sophie, keeping watch and providing comfort.

 

 

The four of us are taking a break from talking to write our separate slices.  Sharing our slices of life is what brought us all here to be present with each other, to make space for writing, and to enjoy the abundance of life.  I am so grateful for Tara’s generosity, for this community of writers, and for this amazing gift of nature.  I can believe the world is good.  I can feel hope.  I can be me.

Morning walk in the woods.

gentle moon

rising over the hills

abiding grace

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Discover. Play. Build.

Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.

Happy Birthday to me!

Happy Birthday to me!

I had a birthday this week. It was also my first school day. The secretary sang “Happy Birthday” to me over the intercom. My gifted teacher-colleagues made cupcakes for our meeting and gave me a new journal. I had a ton of Facebook messages. I love that FB tells people it’s my birthday. I even got messages from two of my favorite authors, Peter Reynolds and Sharon Creech. My friend and colleague, Sally, knows how much I love Peter Reynolds. In 2006, she won a sketch at a technology conference. She gave me this sketch. What a special gift! If you do not know Peter Reynolds’ work, you must. His books make a difference. I am planning once again to participate in International Dot Day that celebrates the publication anniversary of The Dot.

Peter Reynolds' sketch

This week my daughter was house sitting for a friend’s family. She sent me this picture to invite me out to enjoy the peacefulness and all the animals.

The Farm

I met her out at the barn. The largest horse, Jackson, is so sweet. I was petting him, then turned to walk away. He came out of his stall and nudged my back for more petting. I am not accustom to horses, so I wasn’t sure how to react. He didn’t care. He continued to be affectionate. Maggie took this picture of us.

Jackson

Thanks for celebrating the week with me.

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Join the Poetry Friday round-up at Carol's Corner.

Join the Poetry Friday round-up at Carol’s Corner.

Bluenerry bush

Blueberry Picking
with a line from Mark Doty, Verge

Some things wear their becoming,
like this blueberry, for example,
plump and perfectly indigo
surrounded by pinky-red brothers and sisters,
it boasts to be chosen
falls easily into my palm
joyfully plinks the plastic bucket.

On this dewy June morning,
I wander from bush to bush
silent in my reverie
picking, picking, picking.

The berries do not wear a costume.
They linger here in this field
waiting for the juicing of the sun’s rays,
becoming all I need
to take summer in
to hold on to the gift of life.

–Margaret Simon, all rights reserved

Me picking

Blueberry house

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