Spine Wisdom Nature never stops talking in a conspiracy of light, earth against your cheek, and a round slice of moon. Here on the ground witness the weather of the heart in patches of Godlight and a tumbled stone. “Everyday greatness,” says the Noticer “is inscribed in the art of work, won in the battlefield… Continue reading Spine Wisdom (NPM ’16-Day 11)
I love how Robert Brewer describes a “doodle poem” in his April 8th prompt: “So for a poem, I’m thinking this could start off as something small that stays small or builds to epic proportions.” On reading this prompt, almost at once I thought of cooking a meal. It may start leisurely enough but inevitably… Continue reading Doodling Supper (NPM ’16-Day 10)
All photos © 2016 by V. Nesdoly Tulip Festival A few tulips are beautiful acres of them stunning— bouclé strips of colour in the palette of Spring: red, peach, yellow, pink orange, variegated, white, wine, varieties named for memories and with imagination: Rhapsody, Lolyta Christmas Gift, Graya, Kelly, Charade. They are April wine, goblets capturing… Continue reading Tulip Festival (NPM ’16-Day 9)
My thing to eat Not too sweet and not too savory not a bread and not a cake. Not a square and not a doughnut in a pan of cups must bake. To your basic butter, flour sugar, eggs and leavening you can add whatever’s handy you can add most anything! Muesli, wheat germ, bran,… Continue reading My thing to eat (NPM ’16-Day 7)
More than mulch or top-dressing An experience just lived not considered, pondered, mulled over, reflected on, studied, and weighed is like giving food a detour past digestion. Even worm’s automatic reflexes produce the stuff of enrichment— castings that make fruitful. So may the ingestion, digestion and assimilation of our days and moments grow our souls… Continue reading More than mulch or top-dressing (NPM ’16-DAY 5)
The glitter of old age Alas my greying hair has its own highlights. Bags under eyes don’t appreciate sparkles on lashes attracting attention. Glitter in makeup enhances the sculptured neck chiselled chin, fresh strawberry lips. My wattles and pursed mouth prefer something less showy. I go for the glitter of old age— The luster of… Continue reading The glitter of old age (NPM ’16 – Day 4)
Storm Chasers The sun shone from Mother’s eyes most days until the weariness of caring for many children sowed clouds into the furrows of her forehead and impatience brought easterlies, even squalls. “Can we go? Please!” Getting an answer from Dad was like moving a ship through the doldrums. We budged him to “We’ll see”… Continue reading Storm Chasers (NPM ’16-Day 3)
Violet Nesdoly 