child

Everyone and anyone who comes in contact with a child is minding the store. That child is in your hands. You are responsible. Every single thing counts. Love or hate. Acceptance or rejection. Attention or indifference. Everything becomes a part of them. You, having been a child, knows this is true. You remember the words and the people. It made a difference if you were shown love or respect. Stop putting children down. Stop making them feel unworthy. Stop yelling at them. Stop and look into the eyes and heart of the child. Love.

It’s okay

a garden

 

I am not going to dwell on where I don’t fit in. And I am not going to feel sorry that I can not have who or what I would like to have. I am going to look at what people are, and what they are to me now. What they can be now. And I want to be happy with that. Not feeling sorry for myself, but instead feeling how very lucky I am to have people in my life at all.

 

 

cosmos

flowerpink

 

the sky was falling,
but it still looked blue.
the flower stood tall and pink.

what proof do i have?
it’s what i saw.

what i wanted to see.
the petals.
the miracle moment.

seeing

is not believing.
faith is not seeing.

love
is not enough
on its own.

 

 

a game

quilt.tracks

 

walking the rail
is a game
that lasts
a short time
until the
unnatural
tame
balance
on the line
gives us up

 

 

 

Image: A combination of two photographs. One was taken at a railroad crossing just south of New Athens, Illinois. The other is an older photograph of a quilt that I used at the house in Oregon. The tracks represent the journey of schedules and rules that man makes. The quilt represents the comfort that exists off the track.

 

 

buttermilk clouds

buttermilk.clouds

 

 

he once said outloud
with a strong
sure
voice
“those are buttermilk clouds”

i did not doubt him
for i loved the sound
of the words
that i heard
before

now
his voice is weak
and barely heard
above the sound of the
oxygen machine

now
he is hooked-up
in a solitary way
the food
the tube
entering through skin
into his stomach

no more hunger
now
only death can
release him
from the pain

the thorn
in his side
is breath

 

 

Photo ~  taken just outside of St. Libory, Illinois, on the way back from Indiana. Which was a trip to see the man that told me of buttermilk clouds..  The grandfather of my daughters and my ex-husband’s father. May 2, 2016.

Nancy 

 

 

april

IMG_4017

 

sunlight caught in the middle of tiny leaves
green flaming butterfly wings on black branches
feeling more like a new year than january ever did
the last breath of winter carried on the wind
i am in no hurry to plant or weed
or pay head to watering, sunscreen, or
hiding from the heat
i love a light breeze and lilacs showing purple

 

 

 

for sale

open floor

plan split

bedroom

concept vaulted

ceilings in the living

room and bedroom 3

large lot gas fireplace

3-car garage with

side door wired

for surround

sound kitchen 2 tiered

counter for seating stainless

appliances master

suite master

bath walk-in

closet basement 9′ pour

for higher ceilings a bathroom

rough-in two egress

windows high

efficiency heating

cooling system covered

deck with ceiling

fan landscaping

in front and rear

of home