I’ve put off writing until I have collected my thoughts.   (Those of you who know me are guffawing at this very moment!!)

They are all over the inside of my head.  New thoughts come in much like the 1-inch steel ball catapulted without warning into a chaotic arena, then are bounced wildly around bumpers and paddles,  trying to escape through a narrow opening. 

I shall try to apply value to those thoughts and guide them to pour out onto this blank canvas in words that will in some way cause you to come back to check in from time to time.

Thanks for stopping by and watch for new things to come…

Every creation has a core
A tightly woven center that holds it together

Each thread is a conduit from the soul
That conduit carries a piece of the soul
for all the world to see

the gifts
the talents
the unique being that was created

Sometimes that center becomes unraveled
and there is a frenzy of release

Sometimes in ways that are bad
and sometimes in ways that are good
but always tragic

Here is such a tragedy. . .

I see them
Milling about in the cold
Do they know me
Frozen in time
Men talking
Fathers with sons
Couples walking
Husbands and wives
They don’t know me
Color surrounds them
Yet I see them in black and white
Freezing in the cold
They don’t see me
On a warm summer day
An old woman walks alone
Her cane shows her years
Years filled with caring
For her home and family
An old man sits alone
Fueling the fire with twigs
Keeping warm
In his world that has gone cold
The starry nights
The wheat fields
Mothers with infants
Laborers hard at work
Children at play
Captured in sketch
Washed with color
Painted with vibrancy
I see them all
Feverishly I work
to get it right
I can’t get it right
                                        it
                                                   won’t
                                                                     ever
                                                                                       be
                                                                                                 right

    
I pour myself into my work

 becoming the paint on the canvas

Will anyone ever realize the passion inside

Do they know me

Self Portrait in Straw Hat

Vincent Van Gogh
1853-1890

Time goes on, lasting an eternity
     so, why do I never have enough time?

Time is lost, I can never get it back
     but, if I plan it right I can save time.

Time well spent leaves me feeling satisfied,
     yet I get stressed when something costs me time.

Time is on my side and is before me
     so, is that why I can be with the times?

Time cannot be altered or be traveled
     although, I can travel and make good time.

Time marches slowly when I can’t wait and
     in the blink of an eye when I’ve no time.

Time has no beginning, it has no end.
     Where does it come from? Where does it go? Time?

The fashion industry is showing all

It is color and cuts that they present

Hurrying to and fro for model call

The blue, purple, teal, platinum, black and red

Hair of every color and style and shape

There is curled, sleek, classic, trendy and red

Cascaded down the back, shaved at the nape

It’s about tools, texture, and the technique

Stage artists clipping and cutting with flare

Those in the business crane their necks to peek

Duffy’s ‘Rain on Your Parade’ fills the air

Sound sets at main stage booths create a din

All vying for attention from the crowd

Locals and out-of-towners that flew in

McCormick Place is rocking and it’s loud

Clippers, razors, irons, dryers and shears

Stock up! Buy two! Show deals on everything

Established salons and entrepreneurs

Vendors all selling beauty style and bling

Three days of selling, buying and learning

What’s new and can be used in the salon

Remembering potential for earning

New products – Spring Trends – got it going on

The lights have dimmed and booths are shutting down

Sorry, the show is over – time to go

Come back next year, we’ll again be downtown

Thank you from America’s Beauty Show

I’m not sure where we are headed.  I never am.  Not that it matters.  You have my trust.  Though, you have taken me to some very dark places.  There were times when I thought that I would surely die.  And a time I was so scared I thought that my heart would burst right through my chest.  On a few other occasions I wrestled with you, begging you to take me away from some danger.  You kept me there too long.  It seemed an eternity. 

Funny, what you do with time.  Sometimes it passes in a blink.  Sometimes it seems suspended.  I revel in time spent with you. 

Wait!  Where are you going? 

Who is that?  Creeping in like a thief, streaming in through the windows.  Light fingers gently touch my face.  My eyes flutter.  I turn into the pillow, seeking you once again.  Where are you?  Come back!

That sound!  That persistent sound!  Why won’t it stop?  I strike out.  To make it stop.  I find the source.  I press a button and it goes away.  It goes away and so does my chance for any more time spent with you.  Much as I want you.  Much as I need you.  You are no longer mine.  For now. 

I squint into the brightness of the morning.  Out of habit, my feet find their way into my slippers.  I splash cool water on my face.  For now, there is much to be done.  Hours to be filled with the busyness of life…

…before, once again, I fall exhausted into the sweet arms of sleep. 

Yesterday’s monochrome landscape has added a green hue.  The crispy straw-like ground cover is quickly being replaced by grass.  Trees are showing the faintest sign of that transparent red outline ~ an assurance that buds will soon appear.

Squirrels leap across the grass collecting treasures to make their nests comfortable.  Seemingly oblivious to the world around them, robins dance across the yard.  And the bugs!  Already zigging and zagging through the air!  The cat, with eyes tightly shut, sits as still as a statue on the porch rail.  Still, until the sound of a bird causes her eyes to open wide and muscles to ripple, ever alert.  The dog lies on the lawn, with head raised, eyes squinted and nose twitching a mile a minute, as if trying to capture every smell wafting across her world.

The scent of wet earth, tree bark, leaves and brush released after being held prisoner by the snow and frigid temperatures.  Sounds also fill the air.  Birds are singing.  The woods rustle as creatures scurry to and fro.  Equipment hums, working to clear brush and limbs fallen victim to the heavy ice of winter.  Fires crackle as they are fueled by that which has been cleared.

I sit here with my coffee, and though the air is still a bit chilly, I take in all of these things and revel in the anticipation of Spring!

For a moment your heart constricts and seems to react involuntarily.  You reel and shake your head.  As if clearing it would change the reality. 

That reality brings a reprehensible sense of relief.  Relief only that the suffering has stopped. 

Her battle is over.  You take comfort in believing she is at peace.  But the void left is seismic. 

A light has gone out in our world.  Her memory will live on through the many lives she touched.  Lives much richer for having known her.

Renee Lee Kovacs (1981-2009)

Sleep gave way to the beckoning of the new day.  A day that itself still lay in a blanket of darkness.  I crept out of bed lured by a morning sky illuminating a faint hint of gray. 

The smell of coffee aroused my senses at the very woooosh of the canister opening.  Silence was replaced by the heavy breathing of the coffeemaker.  Yawning and stretching I considered, for a moment, crawling back under the comforter.  Instead, I pulled back the blinds and slid the door open a crack.  There was a chill in the air.  A light mist hung over the lake.  A lake that was as smooth as glass.   I poured my coffee, grabbed a throw and headed to the chaise lounge on the deck to enjoy some quiet time. 

The sky had turned a lighter shade of blue-gray.  Plop!  Somewhere on the lake a fish jumped causing the calm water to ripple.  Plop!  Another one.  A mallard couple gracefully landed not far from the shore.  They glided across the water occasionally disappearing under the surface then bobbing up again.  More frequent now was the sound of fish jumping.  Suddenly, there was a frenzy of birds chirping.  They resounded from every single tree.  I searched the horizon to see what could possibly have disturbed them so.  Just as their song rose in crescendo, the sun became barely visible as it crested the horizon.  Just as abruptly as they had started – they stopped.  All was silent as the majestic sunrise made its entrance.

I knew then that creation was acknowledging it’s Maker.  The fish were jumping to greet Him and the birds were singing their portion of the world awake as He commanded the sun to rise.  What a magnificent orchestration! 

Good day to you.  May you feel a fresh start as you embrace each new day.  Welcome and thank you for joining me as I begin my journey with whispers of life… from the Porch Swing.