the faded tulips are being stained by the sunlight
these photos are from yesterday afternoon
and today they are a deep shade of reddish pink
making me think of sunburned skin

when I pulled back the petals last night, I found a trail of ants, going in and coming back out will little balls of yellow pollen
I am amazed that they still flowered fully formed under the matting.
They still gave what they had to give, they still completed the cycle, without sun, with little space and air.

Oh,
that's where they were.
I knew in late summer, early fall, when I matted and mulched, that there were tulips and daffys somewhere down there
I felt really bad, not remembering where, knowing the act of matting was potentially smothering them next spring.
But I hadn't known the summer would bring, bed expansion, with the ripping out of the dead juniper, and I hadn't known Bob would buy matting and mulch, so I hadn't kept track of my spring flowers, and by the time I was to matt and mulch, they were firmly tucked back into the ground leaving no trace of their place.
Today while looking for my third peony plant, I found these tulips, growing horizontally under the matting, I cut them free, releasing their delicate pale bodies to the light. I am sure they wont fair well this year, soon to be scortched by sun, but at least now they should grow well next year. I find something beautiful in their form, and how they grew anyway ever searching for a break in the matting.

These are what the tulips look like that I planted this fall and thus did not matt over. I am not a wretched horrid gardner, just sadly a bit of a forgetful one.

I need to find the song for the music box in the story.
I hadn't really concerned myself with which song it might be, I thought I would save that for story draft #2, but then yesterday while looking up something else on itunes, I clicked on a non Elivis version of Burning Love, it was an instrumental that sounded very much like music box. And I closed my eyes, thinking of this song as the song played in the music box of the story, and it was sad and funny. And I thought, I need to find that song. The One. I can go with something that was always just instrumental or something that when you hear it, you know the words, and they play on inside your head accompanying the music.
It needs to be a love song. Though given to one character from another, I want it to work for all the main characters in the story. So I want both a husband and wife, parent and child, feel to it.

The box was given in 1970. (in Japan, but I don't think I will try to find a purely Japanese song for it, as I think that will be too hard to do.)

If any ideas, any classic such songs come to you, please do share.

I am off to research. To see what songs are in the category Music box.

Greetings

My friends are coming back,
though they rise to greet the sun,
though the rise to touch the breeze,
though they rise to feel the rain,
though they rise because it is how they are made,
still
I can't help but feel
they rise to meet me.
As I bow down to greet them.

How happy I am to see them return.

Hello
hello
hello.
:)

(I will try to be back later with a photo of my rising plants. But everyone is home today, as Bob and Cheese both have off)

A song

I wanted to write A Song for Alena, in honor of the sweet 16 she would be today (16 on the 16th).
I want to celebrate her, but as I whisper those words, "I want to celebrate her" tears come instead.
I want this day, I want to see her sunny, bright, and 16.
How hard it is not to just miss what was, I always also miss what would have been.
It has been a year and several months, since her feet have walked upon the earth, and still I want to negotiate with God. I want a chance for a different story, a longer one, filled full with chapters. It is hard to let go, even as time moves on, for as it does, I keep longing to see her move along with it. Each corner I turn, I expect to see her there, as the seasons change, as the years flow in and out, I turn and expect to see her, in mittens, in flip flops, in bathing suits, in school clothes, at Thanksgiving, at Christmas, at Easter (How can it be that I will never see her in a car she is driving having just gotten her learners permit?). The years turn and I turn, but I don't see her there.

A Song for Alena. I don't know how to write such a song, those first words are the only ones I can come up with that I like, for it would have to be more beautiful than any words I know, filled with more love than any letters can hold, no matter how I arrange them. I think of images, of metaphors, of flowers floating in a gentle wind, smiles, in sunlight, flowing, releasing scent and sounds, she glows, chimes mixing with birdsong, giggling, laughter, bird wings fly by a butterfly, sings, is happy, is kindness, warmth. And anyone who hears her song would feel special, like it played just for them, they would know they were loved, and feel the connection created was important, because that is what it felt like to be with Alena.

There is no reason in trying
I can not write such a song,
and why struggle with words, there is no need for me to create any such song
a better gift to offer her is to sit still and listen more to the song already song
my memories of her are the song that plays through me today,
and there is no better song I could hear
it fills me with gratitude for the moments our souls walked side by side
It is a song without words, it is images and feelings,
a song of her, a beautiful song her life created
a song she wrote with her being
and in holding that in my mind, heart, soul
I sing for her today.
Her song,
the parts that I know,
and her sisters,
her parents,
all her family,
and friends,
think of her today, and play in their minds the different parts of her song that they know.
Through all our memories of her, and love for her, together today we all play Alena's song.
I wonder if she hears us, feels us, playing a song for Alena.
(chords of memories played through our souls)


There is a chorus, the only words in my part of the memories song (I know all the others have the same chorus)

I miss you

I miss you
is a complete poem
it is simple and vast

I miss you


I still have you,
here in my heart
(are words and feelings, that long to be included in refrain)

nowhere about today.
tucked into words
unhappy words of loss
I am so behind in my writing, I should be covering now what happens in April in story, but procrastinated writing the parts that dealt with The Letters, because writing those parts is emotionally draining. So now I must plunge in and through them, so I can realign my outside world, and inside world time line.
But it is slow going.
Is it good, bad, or irrelevant, if one is dragged into crying over writing some parts? On the one hand I think it is good, writing is connecting with an emotion, on the other I think well so what, all that means is I am connecting with myself, doesn't mean it will effect other people, and then I also think it can be sort of bad, as it (knowing it will be painful and upset me) creates a bit of a moat around my rough draft, making it harder for me to get myself to it.
So here I sit, papers beside me laptop on lap, safely on a sofa, and I tell you what, I feel like I have been through something, those words, dragging me raw, vulnerable through some hard ground.
I have to go now and get Cheese from school, I am pleased for the break, yet I worry about how long it will take me to force myself back to the draft,
but then there are two sides of it, the sooner I come back the sooner I will have to feel those feeling again, but the sooner I come back, the faster I will be through this part, and it will be both mine, and the stories past, and we can move on,
or else we will both be stuck here, and I find nothing easy in that.

*update*
Just got back, while driving I realized tomorrow would have been my cousin's 16th birthday. That wont make the writing any easier (aka it will be much much harder), but reminds me of how personally important it is for me to do it, especially the hard parts.

imagining

myself sitting on a bench, ocean in front of me, flower gardens behind me, sunlight streaming all around through the warm air visited by a cooling breeze.

A notebook, a pen, a reading book, and my ipod scattered at my feet, for I am looking straight ahead.

Just being in this place, in this space, calm,

and then collecting myself for whatever journey lies ahead.

True the picture should be much bigger, and there should be flowers all around the hillside, peony, poppy, wiseria, rose....
but then again from where I am, to such a scene, there is much distance, and I must work at making the picture larger and more real if I hope to try and attempt squeezing myself into it.
So perhaps it is right that it is small,
I must bring to it,
a lot.

stewing a bit today

something I try not to ever do, as no good can come of it.

I am upset with my son's school, as some sort of "glitch" as librarian put it, had him sitting alone in a room crying while the rest of his class was having a pizza party. There was a book reading contest, and the party was the prize for classes that read the most. There was an original cut off date of March 19th, but it was extended to the 20th, as they had missed a day do to snow, and were now gaining the 20th as a school day (instead of having it as a Spring Holiday). My son decided on this day, the last day to participate. Which is not ideal, and quite like him, and we have talked about this a lot as not being a good strategy, or rather I have talked about it a lot. That said still when he told me back in March that he was entering, I was pleased as punch and proud of him, he often doesn't join in things at all. So this was a step in the right direction. After school yesterday, the despondent Cheese told me the points he earned for reading were counted toward his class's reading goal but they said they he had missed the cut of date so he couldn't attend. I called the librarian to discuss it, I opened with "my son is upset he thought the cut-off date for participating was the 20th" and she said "It was the 20th" and then asked me my child's name and had to look up the "papers" and the "records", and then said it was a "glitch" as the paper work all said the cut-off was the 19th even though they had extended it to the 20th, so it seemed on paper like he shouldn't be allowed to go, although he should have been. She didn't seem at all sorry, just matter of fact, I told her she shouldn't have focused so much on the paper work but looked at the situation as a human being. His teacher when I spoke to her, acted like it was the librarian who said he couldn't go, the librarian acted like no one really brought this issue to her attention.

Now a pizza party with unlimited pizza, soda, and chips, might not sound like a big deal to you, but to my 11 year old son, it was and is. I of course don't care about the food, not good for him anyway, and I could easily buy him such things. The trouble is the social aspect of the whole thing. My son does not currently have friends he hangs out with outside of school, and the school was concerned enough in the past that we had a meeting with the guidance counselor about his tendency toward social isolation in school. That was in November, lately he has been talking about this kid or that kid, which makes me think he is having some positive interaction with some other students. And Cheese is interested in the going-ons of the other kids, he will observe them, and he likes to know their gossip. (which I consider much better than being totally uninterested in them, something I have been concerned about in the past)

So this kid in my mind is the worst kid to have such a "glitch" happen to. It would have been so great for him to be included not singularly excluded from his entire class. And if he hadn't read any books if he hadn't entered than he would have expected to be excluded, and have chosen to be, but that is not what happened. I keep (gently) trying to tell him that "the best way to prevent this sort of thing, is to not do things at the last minute", and that is what I hope he takes away from this experience, but currently what he is taking away from it is, it doesn't matter what you do it doesn't count, and he has lost his faith (whatever faith he had) in his teachers, and he feels more cut-off from the other kids. He went on this morning about how horrible today will be, that all the other kids will be talking about everything that went on yesterday at the party and how much fun they had. I told him, that happened yesterday, it was unfortunate, but it is in the past, today can still be a great day (if you want it to be).

My mom wants me to write a letter to the principal and complain, she feels they owe him an apology and a pizza party. I keep asking myself what would be the purpose, the benefit of such action? What is my desired outcome? What is the most likely outcome? I don't feel the need for him to be filled-up on junk, but I do wish his teacher would say she was sorry he missed out do to a misunderstaning, I wish we could gain our faith in his school again. I want to believe in her, his teacher, I don't want to think that perhaps if this had happened to another child, it would have been looked into more thoroughly, and a part of me does wonder that.

(my emotional state is not at all helped by the fact that his guidance couselor called me, less than an hour before I went to school to pick Cheese up for the day. Called me to tell me some teacher, who does not know my son, saw him with a plastic knife, moving it back and forth like he was trying to cut his own arm. Guidance told me he talked to my son, who said he was merely scratching an itch, which guidance believed, but you know, they have to check these things out do to concern that some kids might be cutters. So worry about my son was triggered before I found this pizza party stuff out. No I am not concerned that he is or will become a cutter, but he is rather individualistic and eccentric so I worry for him socially. And I wonder if I should have told guidance and his teacher team (back in November) that Cheese is a bit eccentric, maybe the term has done some harm to my child, but I was trying to explain to them his behaviour, and that he isn't looking at things the same way they are. Maybe they think him odd or weird, where as when I said he was eccentric I meant uncommon, individualistic and wonderful.)

Perhaps I will send an email off to his main teacher, I don't want to yell, I don't want pizza, I just want some faith, to believe that she has my son's best interest at heart. Nothing extraordinary, nothing specail, just the same as I assume she does all her students.

Whew, okay, I've gotten as much resolution as I can out of this situation now. I called his teacher left a message, she called back. We talked about it, releazed where the situation arrived from, who talked to who about what, and I feel much more secure in his teacher. Faith restored. It is just a shame that things went the way they did. Well hopefully now that I am getting "Over-it" I can more effectively help my son do the same. :)

From St. Patick's day
here are two of Cheese's favorite pranks

When he came downstairs that morning he found the little bowl with the plastic orange fish was gone and in its place was this big bowl with a living blue (betta) fish. (admittedly the decorations in the tank need to be tweaked a bit so as to be more visually pleasing)



Cheese really liked the penguins in the fountain, he kept saying it was like an exhibit. (and wont let me remove them)

My favorite thing was the boucing balls (that look like eyeballs) that were in a plastic cup perched atop his bathroom door. Other years it was done with confetti, and that would be dumped down, but when these balls came down they bounced back up and all over the place, which is much much better. He did spy the cup and kept from triggering it for a while, but not knowing just what was in the cup I think his curiousity got the best of him. (He doesn't let me undo any of the pranks).

We both liked the ping pong balls in the mailbox. This worked because every day after school he likes to get the mail. I was surprised and disappointed that they didn't go bouncing all over but just spilled out onto the mailbox door. (except for one or two). But still it was totally unexpected and amused him.

One of the most successful things was the pot of gold. Usually there is hidden a pot with fake gold coins and chocolate coins in it, and a rainbow nearby as a clue. This year there was a rainbow bandana clearly hiding the pot, which was empty except for the words HA HA in it. When he went to eat breakfast, he found an unopened box of Lucky Charms (a rainbow is part of this box's packaging design), and inside the bag was also sealed, but when he poured it out, there were gold chocolate coins mixed in with the cereal, and under the bag in the box were the fake coins. He tototally couldn't figure out how this could have happened, and walked around for days talking about it. :)
(It took about a week till this scene was somewhat repeated, when he ran out of strawberry rice crispies and got another box down from the top of the pantry, and when he opened the unopened box it was filled with stale marshmallows, no cereal.)

There was lots of other stuff, like fake food, a fake person, bubble bath in the toilet tank so it bubbled when flushed, restroom sign on the closed door to a room (that was not the bathroom) and when you opened the door there was a line of stuffed animals waiting to use a little litter box where one stuffed dog was already busy using the facilities (by way of some fake rubber dog poop), little plastic gems in all his pants pockets, little marshmallows in all his socks, all his boy bathroom stuff was girl bathroom stuff, shower filled with green balloons. His sneaker laces were gone, and green pipe cleaners were doing the job instead. The car mirrors were filled with green shamrock clingy things. The white silk rose which is always in the car's flower holder had turned green. His alarm clock was replaced with a kitchen timer, and the house scale with a kitchen scale, and as always one of those little fuzzy (25 cent) bears was hidden somewhere. Yada yada yada, stuff I can't recall right now, but the wonderful thing is that he enjoyed all of it. Thank God!! Because less than a week later the Easter Bunny's efforts did not go over very well. (bummed bunny)

rattle prattle

Dreaming of flowers

(these aren't mine, I netted them on the net)

Wondering a bit lately

Saw Oprah's show about the man who is pregnant, although despite being legally a man (how does one become legally another gender?), to my mind, and to his genetics, he is a pregnant female, so while visually surprising, as he outwardly appears male, still biologically it isn't surprising.

So my mind isn't occupied with giving that part of the scenario much thought, what is, is his wife. She has grown children, so I imagine she might very well have been married before, and without knowing I am assuming her other husband was born male. (but obviously she could have gone a different route to having kids)

I just can't quite grasp the being with a woman who looks like a man thing. I would think if one was a lesbian one would want to be with femme females, but clearly that isn't always the case, but still usually one is with another female who despite her short haircut and clothing style, has all the female parts. But this woman is with someone who used to be female, but had her breasts removed, and took testosterone for years, so her clitorus enlraged (sort of like a small penis) and she grew facial hair, thus basically became a he. I freely admit I find this confusing. I think of Anne Heche, and Ellen, and know I am getting a bit hung up here on labels. The point is a person falls in love with another person, gender here is secondary. But still if my son were to turn out to be gay, but then came home with a man who had long blonde hair, soft lipsticked lips, full perky breasts, long shaved legs in a cute skirt, and looked more female than I do, it would surely confuse me, and I couldn't help but wonder why he just didn't go for a born female instead? Like why wasn't this woman just drawn to more effeminate men, more sensitive types? Why is there a greater attraction for her, to a female who outwardly changes to be male? Is there something I am missing here? Something inherent to gender, ( and thus to attraction) beyond outward appearances, and some sensiblities. So that even a born man who looked like her husband, and shared the same sort of personality traits, still would not be as attractive to her? Is that what I am not knowing? Or does that have nothing to do with it, and it is just people are drawn to and fall in love with other people, and for some people the other person's gender doesn't matter?

( to be clear, I am not pondering attraction to same sex individuals, but merely the attraction to same sex individuals who look like, and are even modified to be, the opposite sex.)
(I mean it is fine with me, and has nothing to do with me, it is just I am curious is all)

I am also pondering-

Is there only a set amount of water on the planet? As in it couldn't really rain forever, at least not everywhere every day, because there is this whole system with water as rain falling to the ground and then evaporating up into clouds, condensing, and falling again. If more ice melts there would be the possibility of more moisture in air, and thus more rain, but still the amount of planetary water would be the same (might change form, but not amount). If we lost the atmosphere then we could lose water to space, I assume (which I know one incredibly far away future day when the sun gets really hot will be reason for earth's people to relocate), but that isn't presently an issue. Tis silly I know, but I was wondering because it keeps raining here, so I wondered if it could just keep going on and on. But then I thought no, or at least not everywhere, because somewhere water would have to be evaporating from. Or are there hydrogen and oxygen just floating out there that can be joined...just got back from the web, there are but I think they come from water so it would still be a set amount,...or, well anyway it doesn't matter, tis over my head. I do think that it is interesting that they can make water now, with as little as 14% humidity. Would making water thus at all effect rainfall?

yada yada yada, and blah blah blah, I am supposed to be writing, not pondering.
I did add 1,000 words to my draft last week, now all I have to do is add, about 15,000 more words, and then try and figure out how to change the draft from merely being written, to being well written. And when I get to the point of trying to do that I will accept offers of spells, magical enchantments, chants and prayers to that end. Oh and I will accept knowledge, wisdom, and helpful advice too (for those of you that have stuff like that to offer)

The return of the green

Death and daffodils

They made their appearance today, the daffodils. (not in my yard, but mine are surely on their way).
So here I post again the poem I posted last year on April 2 in honor of my happiness to see them.
Perhaps tomorrow I shall add a photo (Bob still has my digital so I nipped this off the net. I mean nicked!)

by William Wordsworth

I Wandered Lonely

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd
A host of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee.
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed-and gazed but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

Last year for some reason, as I was driving him to school in the morning, I mentioned to my son that I want him to read this at my funeral. He said he would not be going. I said I wasn't planning on dying for a great long time and that he would change his mind by then. He said no he wouldn't. I said when they put me in the ground all I ask is that you be there and read this darn poem. Him- "oh no, they won't be putting you in the ground". Me- "No?" He- "No" Me -"Well honestly I'm not so keen on going into the ground. Where shall I be going instead?" He- "Oh, I'm going to put you in a cardboard box and catapult you into the sky" Me- "Okay, well then you WILL BE THERE and you can read the poem as I'm launched. I think some sort of rocket might be better though. You know so I get more air, and don't just come crashing right back down on you" He- "No I wont be there doing it, I'll have other people do it instead" Me- "okay so you can recite the poem into a tape recorder and then have THEM play it". So anyway I hope we are clear on that. I think I should give him a good 10 years before I remind him.

It is odd that I love the poem so, for I like, but am not very fond of daffodils. There are many flowers that I do love, but they have not such a poem.

Cheese and I rented Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium last week. It was his idea, and not at all what either of us expected, that said, I really really really liked this movie. Somehow death and daffodils just made me think of it. Yes indeed I know this heart. I can never get a quote right, but one from the movie went something like this. She- "What do you see when you look at me? Do you see a sparkle?" He- "A sparkle?" She-" Yes, do you see anything in me that has a spark? Like do you see anything that seems reflective of something greater?".
Oh I know those are not the right words, but you can get a sense of it, from the words I could find.