Petite Rivière Rouge

De Jackson, aka WhimsyGizmo hosted dVerse Quadrille yesterday.  Took me some finagling to get my 44 words to where I was willing to share them.  I shoulda chosen another subject because now my memories have come flooding in and this limitation is causing me grief!

 

Petite Rivière Rouge

where childhood memories were made

 

Pépère¹ bulldozed river rocks;

a sandy cove to protect our feet

 

When not being fished,

crapet-soleil² nibbled our toes

 

Rocks have since rolled back

and the river seems more

like a stream to our adult eyes

 


¹Pépère means “Gramps”

²Crapet-soleil is a fish, that, I just learned, is called Pumpkinseed fish – we are never too old to learn 🙂

MFFP - Poissons du Québec - Crapet-soleil

Resiliency, Thy Name is Noëlla

It was prosery (144 words max, not including the title and no poetry allowed) Monday yesterday for dVerse. I’m late but hey, c’est la vie, I say… Lisa at Tao-Talk is hosting and went down a rabbit hole that started with Alice Walker and her interest in Zora Neale Hurston.  So, Lisa landed on the following quote, which we must use:

No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.

                                      ~Zora Neale Hurston, from “How Does it Feel to be Colored Me” in World Tomorrow (1928).

Reading that phrase immediately brought to mind my grandmother, who was also my godmother, and to whom I have been compared (it thrills me).  No, she never used this phrase but its essence is definitely Noëlla to me.

You were my hero from the moment I was old enough to understand the stories. How you were the eldest of fifteen children and had you a choice, would have had none of your own – yet birthed seven.  How you lived in lumberjack shacks where the sun shone through the cracks and the water froze in the kettle overnight. How you had the strength to leave your alcoholic husband to raise your kids on your own – and were judged for it by the Nuns who taught your kids.  How you survived the death of all three of your sons over the years.  How you became a businesswoman, despite a grade-three education.

“No, I do not weep at the world – I am too busy sharpening my oyster knife.”

I know you were saying it’s up to you to make or break your life.

Happy Face

Mish is hosting dVerse Quadrille today.  We are asked to use a variation of the word “Smudge” – so many ways this word could be used so I went through my photos, looking for inspiration.  Landed on this one and well, just had to use it!

Smeared and smudged

face full of chocolate

Putting on a show

with makeshift microphone

belting out pure joy

at summer’s freedoms

Can it get any better than this?

Childhood is not meant to be

neat and tidy all the time

the hose can wait

 

Getting There

So way back on Monday, Merril hosted prosery Monday, where we have to write an exact 144 words of prose – not poetry – using a phrase chosen from a piece of poetry (isn’t that sneaky?) This time, Merril chose the following line from Jo Harjo’s “A Map to the Next World.”

“Crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end.”

Well now. I knew where I was going and then tripped and got busy on other stuff… Determined, I was, to do this baby so here I am! And yes, those who know me, know I am rather obsessed with Tuscany. What can I say? I felt I belonged in the three weeks I spent there!

Getting There

We bought the plane tickets. With cancellation insurance. Which we ended up needing. I knew it, dammit. The thing is, I know better. I know it in my gut that the Universe is always listening… Even when you don’t realise you are sending out the message, she is listening. Needless to say, the plans that were, were no longer. I never expected they’d be erased from the possibility of. Hell, it was no longer even spoken of. That idea had become a dream that I alone was dreaming.

Life is funny, you know. You think in linear terms until you realise what’s crucial to finding the way is this: there is no beginning or end. All the variations of the quote about not being about the destination but the journey are muddily clarified as you realise you did make it. All on your own.

Strawberries in June

Kim is hosting dVerse today and has asked us to write about fruit.  Having bought my very first basket of seasonal strawberries, how could I write about anything else? I thought I’d be writing about all the ways to use said fruit but the muse had other plans!

We have become spoiled

That’s what we say, anyway

Strawberries can be had year-round

From all sorts of exotic locations

But really. Tell the truth

Are they really worth it?

 

How can you compare these hard, tasteless,

not to mention oversized “berries”

with those ruby red, juicy

bursts of summer?

 

It starts in a field on a sunny day

You have to crouch to discover where

those beautiful red flavour bombs are

Pick one and bring it to your nose

inhale its distinct scent

Brush off the sand or dirt

Hold it by the stem and bite off the tip

or the whole thing, depending on size

and your level of gourmandise!

The berry is soft yet has some yield

and the tiny seeds add a special crunch

as the juices slide down your throat

 

By the time you’ve had your fill

your fingers are stained

your belly is happy

you might even have berries in a basket!

But you are convinced that

you are once again a kid and

are filled with summer’s essence

 

 

In a Rush For the Flower Moon

Two days later than I wanted to post. Sigh. Life. It does love to throw curveballs at you, doesn’t it?  This one was a doozie and took me two days to recuperate from!  Still… Please pretend we are May 25th – the day I wanted to post it, even if the dVerse prompt came on Monday, the 24th. Frank J. Tassone was the host and the subject was: write a haibun about the Flower Moon – said moon was officially yesterday and somehow, I missed it. Or rather was so sure it was the 25th that I didn’t even think of checking last night.  This moon pic was taken on the 25th, however 🙂

You aren’t due till the summer solstice, possibly near a Strawberry Moon? Probably not.  You are supposed to arrive when roses and and peonies and poppies are in full bloom.  When the tulips and daffodils have already done their thing.

Instead, you decide the Flower Moon is more your style.  You want late spring blooms:  lilacs and rhododendrons, daisies and violets.

Maybe you know your time here will be brief so you want to get a chance to fully experience everything nature has to offer.  Who knows?  All I know is this:  When the day is breezy and I open my bedroom window, the scent of the wild lilac bush right below my window comes up and wafts through my room, reminding me of you. And to think this year was to be your lucky year! Twenty-five years old on the twenty-fifth of May.

A Flower Moon child

In a rush, to see it all

Gone before you could

 

 

Finding His Song

I decided to participate, nay, be inspired by the dVerse challenge from Monday. Sanaa (aka adashofsunny) was hosting prosery Monday and wanted us to use the following line:  “Only mouths are we. Who sings the distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things? – from Rainer Maria Rilke, “Heartbeat.”  We must use the line in its entirety, though we can change the punctuation. We cannot leave out nor insert other words within the line. The story must be exactly 144 words, not including the title.

Though submerged by a dark cloud engulfing him, he managed to trudge forward in life, participating minimally.  Damaged by a love past, he was unable to see the possibility of light and happiness, never mind hear any music.

“Come sing with us, Andrew. It’s all in fun and will surely lift your spirits!”

“Only mouths, are we.  Who sings? The distant heart which safely exists in the center of all things!  She took away my heart and the song within it,” he lamented. “It’s gone and I will never find it again.”

“You are right, you won’t.  Not if you continue in this fashion. You need to step away from that dark cloud, let the light touch you again, my friend,”

“Your friend?  What nonsense, this?”

“Nay, not nonsense.” She tended her hand, “Come with me.  It’s time to see the beauty all around.”

 

 

Why Would I?

It is Haibun Monday at dVerse and this week it is hosted by Frank J. Tassone.  It just so happens that I had plans to write about being present in the moment today.  And lo!  It is this week’s subject. How could I not tag along?

Not later than yesterday, I had an exchange with a fellow-blogger and friend.  He loves to take his morning walks accompanied by various podcasts or audio books. This is great for him because he loves to multi-task and is an avid reader with only so much time in the day.  It is great for me because he gives such wonderful book suggestions and has not steered me wrong yet, so I shan’t ask him to stop! He suggests I should try to listen to podcasts, as well.  I beg to differ, my friend. There is so much noise in our everyday lives that when I can walk in nature, I want nothing else but to be present in the moment, to fully absorb the sights and sounds she provides.  From the flowering trees to the buzzing bees, to the wind rifling through the leaves to the wonderful variation of bird calls.  Why ever would I want to tune them out?

nature’s orchestra

trills and chirps, a caw or two

silenced by earbuds

Yesterday’s raucous symphony can be heard here, my friend 🙂 Something tells me your earbuds would have been insufficient.

Why Bother?

It is Quadrille Monday on dVerse!  Today’s hostess is De Jackson (aka WhimsyGizmo) who has asked us to write our 44-word poem using the word bother in some way, shape or form.  De is  Being bothered seems to be second nature to many of us moms… just sayin’…

Why Bother?

“Thanks for soups, Mamz.”

“Yeah, it was great!”

And before I know it

they’ve flown off their chairs

mouths still chewing that last bite

Why do I bother?

Would it kill them to just once

offer to clean the dishes

without me hounding them?

Dreamers Only

Had to throw in the towel last night.  Tried for hours to write this post but my computer kept freezing.  How aggravating!  Lillian, over at dVerse is hosting the prosery for Monday.  It had to include the following line:  If you are a dreamer, come in taken from Shel Silverstein’s poem, Invitation, as published in his wonderful book, Where the Sidewalk Ends.

Dreamers Only

She stepped back to better see the big picture. She could work with that. It would be spectacular!  She stepped over the threshold to see inside. Marvellous!  Ribbons hanging from the centre to each corner attached with flowers and herbs, boughs filling in the nooks and crannies with more for cushioning upon some logs acting as seats.  Stacks of books and various adored baubles added to the décor.  A stump for a table lit with oil lamps. It would be the perfect place for her story book club.

She heard the tentative footsteps just outside her door.

“If you are a dreamer, come in. Otherwise, you just keep on walking because there is no room for stuffy unimaginative types in this most sacred of places.”

Oh, Anne, it’s me, Diana!  Do let me in! I have the most wonderful story to share with you!

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This little piece of fanfic was inspired by Anne with an E…