Monday, 1 May 2023

At this time of year, I always love watching the maple trees coming into bud and bloom; they were always a favourite flower that I'd bring home for mom on my way home from school.  She was so gracious to greet my offerings with enthusiasm and find jars to display these wondrous flowers! Next would be dandelions and clover and wild roses.   ' Crimson and clover' just popped into my head - loved that song!  It came out in 1981 when I was the young mother of three.  Ah, memories of chasing the three of them across our lawn, trying to coax them into clothing of various sorts, or into just wearing something!  Those precious moments, though they were busy ones, went by way too fast.  I tried to capture one of my own early memories in this little poem; I hope it stirs some of your own warm memories and adds to your garden of smiles:

Mom's Garden 

Before I learned
To read or write,
I'd bring her flowers
I thought she'd like;
Some pansies from
Her garden bright,
Or a blossom from our tree;
I'd find such wonders
On my way,
And I was sure
That she would say,
How beautiful! and never mind
A few holes in her garden,
Here and there;
She seemed to know
The joy I felt,
And knew just how my
Heart would melt,
To see her smile
Then hug me tight,
And plant a kiss,
In pure delight!
The fanciest flowers
Could not compare
To the seeds of joy
That she planted there;
Her garden of kindness
I'll tend with care,
And water it daily
With laughter and prayer.

Wednesday, 29 March 2023


A Litter Lament 

Down in the laneway,

A ruckus arose,

A cackling and cawing,

A quarrel of crows,

Pushing and pulling

With feathers a-flap

Till the tie on the bag gave way with a snap!

Then, a squawk and a squabble,

Over what they would gobble,

Or some silly bauble

That someone discarded

Its worth unregarded

They would bring to their nest,

With all of the rest

Of the treasures they dug

With each hopeful tug;


Litterbird, Litterbird, fly away home,

Stop spoiling my work,

Leave my garbage alone!

Every two-winged, two-legged,

Four legged critter,

It just takes one thought

To decide not to litter;

Let's stop all the squabbling

That tears us apart,

Pick up our litter,

And polish our hearts.


The Wave

Twice today, I have been the grateful recipient of a friendly wave; at least that is what I assumed the fellow in the passing truck, and the lady walking her dog coming towards me down the street were going to do. I was pretty sure that I knew each of them until they came within range and I realized that my enthusiastic waving was being met with questioning stares.  No matter, I gave the wave a huge smile follow up and I felt better as their smiles grew and they hesitantly returned the wave.  I may not have known them at all, but I figure that it was better to wave in error than to let fear of making a mistake spoil those special moments.

There is nothing wrong with saying hello to a stranger on the street or offering them a wave, and certainly a smile; it may be the only bit of warmth that he or she receives on that particular day, or possibly for many days.  It certainly picked up my own mood and jolted me out of self absorption that was not nearly as interesting; if we can't laugh at ourselves on a regular basis, then we become dull very quickly—best to sharpen up those smile muscles, smooth out our wrinkles, and join the wave! 

I raised my hand

And held it high,

In  a friendly wave

As a lad walked by;

A friendly wave,

How brave, how brave!


Strangers, yes,

But his eyes met mine,

A little bit shy,

But with hopeful shine,

He tossed a smile;

What class, what style!


With every wave,

To someone new,

My steps were lifted,

My spirit grew;

My wave had power

An awesome tool,

How cool, how cool!


Sunday, 26 February 2023

 This is a humorous look at our dependence on technology, and how sometimes we all need to take a break before we plug in again!

Plug Me In!


"I'm dying! I'm dying!"

My poor cell phone cried,

But I paid it no heed

As I headed outside;

The garden was quiet,

Time flew along,

The birds in the trees

Held me rapt with their song;

Back in the house,

No pings could be heard,

No greeting from Siri,

Not a single ring stirred;

"I can't understand

This new state of mind;

It's just so unlike her

To leave me behind,"

One last desperate try;

To the birds looking in,

"I really don't mean

To intrude on your din,

Tell her all is forgiven,

But time's running thin;

Please tweet her my message—

Please, please, plug me in!"

 Kindness is essential in the healing of our world.

The Quality of Kindness


The quality of mercy is not strained.

It droppeth as the gentle rain from Heaven

Upon the place beneath.

It is twice blest:

It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

                        ..... William Shakespeare


The quality of kindness

Is the most precious of our treasures;

The humblest, yet most courageous;

From eye to eye it beckons—

Look long and deeply into mine,

We are one, you and I,

In our pain and in our joy;

In my yearning to find hope,

Am I misunderstood?

Have I misunderstood you?

We are all brought to tears,

By the touch of a kind word or act,

That drops like healing rain

Upon the wounds that we carry;

Let us hope that our eyes

Fully opened,

Will look deeply into the beauty,

In the eyes of our brothers,

And encourage

The quality of kindness that waits there.

Monday, 12 December 2022


Christmas is for Children


Christmas is for children,

How lucky are we!

For we're all little children

When we let ourselves see

The magic in snowflakes,

And in lights on a tree;

We are children at heart,

And that's what we should be;


Every smile that we offer,

Every kindness we share,

Is never too little

To help, to repair,

The hurts and the tears

In this world we all share;


No decoration so fine,

No light shining bright,

Can beat an "I'm sorry"

Or a " Me too—It's alright."

These humble words

Have the power to heal,

To lift off the darkness

And let ourselves feel

The joy that will follow

The peace that will flow

When we step up with courage,

And let the pain go;


Hear the voice in our hearts,

Where that little child lives,

In the hope of His promise,

The gift that He gives

To the hearts of all children

At Christmas.

Thursday, 27 October 2022

 It's harvest time!   Ross and I sat at the window the other night and took in the 8pm show: the combine harvester was in the field taking off the 7 ft. corn stalks; we were going to be getting our unobstructed view of the highway and river again!  It triggered a fun memory of listening to the Wurzles hit, "The Combine Harvester,"  back in the day.  It also took me back to late nights catching turkeys and harvesting veggies in the wee hours, and I offered up a prayer for all of the hard working farmers out there. Now the gleaners have arrived; the haunting sound of myriads of honking geese, circling above and gliding in to the feast—the ultimate local shoppers; It would be nice if they'd pick up a bag of leaves on their way out—they're going for a good price!

I don't know how many of you are members of the 'wide awake at 3am' club, but It struck me that instead of trying to count sheep in those 3am sleepless hours, I'll envision the combine harvester cutting down each of my worries, one by one, reducing them from 7ft. problems to 1 ft manageable stubs. I hope that you all have found strategies for dealing with a problem that is plaguing half the population, especially in these new COVID normal days.  This wee poem came to me at 3am this morning; I hope it will give you a smile—it was pretty insistent that I write it down at the time:   

'Most of my ills I have cured,

The worst I have always survived,

But the very worst ones I endured

Were those that never arrived.'

... from my little Friendship Book


Over the Moon!

or: What's sleep got to do with it, got to do with it?


I don't know why

I can't sleep anymore,

But I know it's all over

When my toes hit the floor;

My muse thinks that sleeping

Can take a back seat,

must stand there in line

While my worries repeat

Themselves over and over

And over again—

Could they not have come knocking

At a quarter to Ten?


I don't know why

I can't sleep at night,

I do love the moon,

But it's shining so bright!

It winks and then gives my eyes

One extra pull;

I stand at the window;

The scene is so still;

In the quiet of midnight,

Its glow settles down,

Painting the landscape

Across field and town

With soft pearly colours

Where dark ones had been;

Touching down in my heart,

There perhaps to begin

To pour peace on my worries,

To quiet their din;

With a nod to my pillow,

I'll try sleep again!