Beginner's Heart

Beginner's Heart


day 18 of a month of Thanksgiving: bounty (& first-world problems…) ~

  I have too much stuff. I have too many books, too many teapots, and waaay too many tchotchkes. It is, most definitely, a first-world problem.

But I’m grateful for my first-world problems, like  clearing out my extra books. I remember helping a colleague — a South African teacher — pack books to take back to Botswana. Her students had none. NOT  ONE. I have hundreds…

Today I bought the dogs new collars. I had a coupon, which knocked $5 off the total. And I thought at the time: my dogs’ collars cost more than many people make in a day… Think about that.

As I clean and ready for the upcoming holiday feasting, I make space in the refrigerator. For bounty. Leftovers from the annual American eat-in. There will be at least 12 of us, possibly more. There will be turkey, and potatoes ((both white & sweet), and pie and cake and salads and relishes and hummus and turkey and more. And that’s just Thursday

Tomorrow — Monday — an old & dear couple of friends and their beautiful 3 daughters are coming to visit. I still have to make gingerbread, after a day spent cleaning a too-large house. And  decide between teapots (there are several…), and decide among teas… We have to finalise plans: should we walk the River Parks Pedestrian Bridge? Or go to the Rose Garden? Such happy ‘problems’ that I probably shouldn’t even share them!

So today? I’m grateful and give thanks for my first-world problems. Too many things I love, too little room to keep them. A garden refusing to go to sleep, even though it’s mid-November (roses & gold mums & scarlet pineapple sage, still!). A week ahead full to bursting w/ wonderful friends & family & food. And me in the middle of it all, well aware of my own good fortune…

 



Previous Posts

form, poetry, and the empty cup
I spent the day researching obscure poetic forms.  And it was enormous fun -- thinking about what to pour into those elegant white cups of structure. Along the way, I wrote this poem for my sisters (the least structured of women). But we'll get to the poem in a moment. Because what's important i

posted 3:41:38pm Apr. 18, 2014 | read full post »

poetry, structure, and creative beginner's heart
Last night, discussing structure and writing with my elder son, I said I couldn't write w/ too much structure. That writing is -- for me -- a discovery process. Structure, I told him, can actually kill my ide

posted 3:03:47pm Apr. 16, 2014 | read full post »

what a difference a day makes (and other ways I wish I was like my grandson)
My grandson burnt his hands Sunday. Not horribly, but badly enough that he cried inconsolably for hours. Today? He's his usual sunny self: slapping the Cheerios on the highchair

posted 3:01:12pm Apr. 15, 2014 | read full post »

in the flash of a moment
My grandson hurt himself today. Not horribly, but bad enough that he's been crying for two+ hours. On a lovely spring day -- temps in the lower 70s -- he was on the deck w/ his folks, crawling happily around

posted 4:45:55pm Apr. 13, 2014 | read full post »

the poetry of every day
It's easy to forget that every day holds poetry. Especially if you're hectic: packing, moving, cleaning a new house, unpacking... Soothing a disolocated dog, holding a curious baby. Eating out of cartons while you locate the dishes and pans. All of this can make you forget the whole point of the

posted 2:46:45pm Apr. 12, 2014 | read full post »




Report as Inappropriate

You are reporting this content because it violates the Terms of Service.

All reported content is logged for investigation.