Your slyness creeps in

turning collars up

hats tucked down


Lush lawns sport new dews

trees play with colour

bearing the fruit of the season


Brisk walking replaces Summer’s saunter

and we turn our gaze to the sun

who while still warm,  is losing it’s luster

the haze of the sky gives way to a true blue

crisp clouds breeze by

on the tails of cooler winds


We begin to dream in crimson and gold

dressing in warmer tones

Candles are lit and fires are kindled

energizing our senses while we cozy our nests


We bottle, bake and freeze giving thanks

for Summer’s bounty

the bedding of gardens and cutting of eager bushes

necessitates the switch of seasonal tools

and we bow to natures shedding

bending and raking


Witnessing our morning’s breath

we wait,  while you make up your mind

how fair you will play

your Fall game




In the past, I’ve thought I was ready to walk away, only to have the fraidy cat inside me make me stay.   “Fear is a liar” you know.  Believe is a two syllable word with immense risk.  Sometimes I’ve felt ready to try and then gulped it down along with air polluted by naysayers.  I have been left with a bitter taste in my mouth and regret in my belly before.   Not anymore, I’m ready.  It’s great what a brisk walk can do, especially when headed in a new direction surrounded by fresh air.  Do you dream in colour and think it can’t be right, so you change them into black and white?   I have.  Not anymore, I’m ready to share that I dream in colour and I tend to fly in my dreams.  I soar with my arms by my sides, head first, no fear of crashing.  I always land safely, and there’s always the presence of an angel overhead.

I’m ready to admit that writing is daunting.  It’s plain scary.  Writing down words that are personal and putting them out here into cyberspace for people to read and critique is hard.  It’s easy to feel alone out here.  But it’s okay, because the fire in my belly for writing down the words in my head and on my heart has finally singed the mighty ego.  I am ready for the truth.  I find parenting soulful and exhausting at the same time.  I’ve been doing it for twenty-four years now and I’m ready to let go.  To really let go and hope that the ground work my husband and I have laid will be enough for our sons to grow into good men.  I’m ready to be free of guilt.  For not making the best choices and hurting myself and the people I love.    I’m ready to surround myself with good people who will accept me for who I truly am,  not who they think I should be.

I’m ready to age gracefully.  I’m not tired of making an effort, I’m just tired of magazines, advertisements, television shows and an industry that want to make us feel like it isn’t the privilege it is to grow old.  I’m ready to be healthy. I’m ready for the world to grow up.  For nations to purge their hatred.  I’m ready for countries to play by the rules and not take their toys away because they don’t want to share this beautiful world.   I’m ready for peace.  World and inner peace.  I’m ready for people to look each other in the eyes again.  To look and see people.  To really listen to people’s stories without judgement.  I’m so ready to be able to have an opinion and not be called a racist or a bigot or not politically correct.   I am so ready not to be afraid.

I’m ready for faith to guide me.  I’m here to do the work needed, because when my time comes I want to be ready.


On Fridays a community of writers write not worrying if it’s right over at Kate’s blog.  Today’s word prompt is the word “ready”.   Give a try and then visit your FMF neighbour and give them some encouragement  Are you ready?





Do you know what depression sounds like?  Do you know what it looks like?  I’ve watched advertisements on television about depression and I’ve witnessed it first hand.   I’d like to think I would recognize it’s symptoms, but this week, along with so many other people, I was left shaking my head in disbelief with regard to the suicide of Robin Williams.  Obviously those truly close to him were aware of his struggle.  Others not so much.  I never witnessed or shared his torment.  I never heard what he was saying all those years behind smiles and comedic relief.  It got me thinking about how smart and insidious this disease can be.  It got me wondering about conversations, and that old saying:  “Wish I could have been a fly on the wall”.  What would I do should I end up privy to the final conversation of a depressed person? The one they are having with themselves just before they choose death.  I wonder if I would be strong enough or convincing enough,  when given the opportunity,  to tell them that they are not alone.  That help is available and that they are loved enough to choose life.  What would you do?  Do tell. 

Crushing news

leaves broken hearts

head in hand with mouths agape

and tear filled vision

We weep openly

for those who have suffered


They smile, nodding

hiding a lonely, isolating burden

keeping a secret

While days turn into nights

they dodge judgement’s harshness

 protecting depression’s


Crying quiet tears

carrying the heaviness of their world


they favour death

leaving an unending echo

in a chasm too wide to fill

We ask why?  What can we do?

Tell us.


Today is FMF over at Kate Motaung’s blog Heading Home.  You write for five minutes not worrying if it is right. Give it a go.  Today’s prompt is:  Tell.  It’s been a tough week.


I bought one of these:  It is called a Veggetti.  It turns vegetables into spaghetti-like strands.  So I made Zucchetti or Zucchini Spaghetti.  I added a package of extra lean ground turkey, but you could go vegetarian and it would still be delicious. 




Zucchetti with Turkey

Here’s the recipe.  Five items.

1 onion chopped

1 pkg. extra lean ground turkey

1 can (540 ml) diced tomatoes with olive oil and garlic

4 zucchini veggettied (is that a word) on the thick slice

Freshly Grated Cheese – I used ParRoma ( a mixture of Parmesan and Romano cheeses)

Do This:

Sweat the onions down with a bit of olive oil in a non-stick frying pan. 

Add your turkey and brown.  Then add the diced tomatoes and let cook for 10 mins.

Veggetti your Zucchini on the thick slice and add to the mixture.  I put the lid on my pan and let them cook for approximately 8 – 10 minutes. 

Fold the mixture together and serve.

Add your cheese (and maybe some pepper).  Okay that’s six items.  But this is fast and delicious!!




Children fill our lives to the brim with their energy, enthusiasm, questions and needs.  Then, send us to the brink with their energy,enthusiasm, questions and needs. So, how does HE do it?  How does God do it? I am continually amazed, graced and humbled as he continues to fill me up with HIS love and compassion.   We all need compassion don’t we?


{Pinterest} What did you just complain about?

I don’t want to be ignorant, so I thirst for HIS knowledge, wisdom and understanding of this world.   I hear HIM whisper to me at times when I think HE couldn’t possibly be listening to my ranting, only to have HIM put faith back on to my heart and into my life.   When I feel small and unimportant, HE wraps his loving arms around me and gathers me up large and sure.   I’m so grateful to have HIM in my life.  How can I complain?  How can I ever be lonely?  To the brim HE fills me.


Today is Friday.  For some it is the end of the work week, for others it is the beginning of something new.  Five Minute Fridays has moved here.  Kate is now our host for FMF.  Give it a try.  Write five minutes without worrying if it is right.  The prompt is:  FILL

Sudden Downpour

I entered the shop

soaked to the bone


A man at the counter

was cradling the phone


Low level light produced a din

with gesturing arms

I was waved right in


Filled with dusty old antiquities

the store shared the tales

of people and their histories


His was one of sadness be told

after losing his life’s love

the business had been sold


What I learned from sudden downpours

that had my interest peaked

is that stories found, aren’t always held

within the words they speak


It was sunny when you left home, so you didn’t take an umbrella. An hour later, you’re caught in a torrential downpour. You run into the first store you can find — it happens to be a dark, slightly shabby antique store, full of old artifacts, books, and dust. The shop’s ancient proprietor walks out of the back room to greet you. Tell us what happens next!

Today’s prompt at Post A Day is Sudden Downpour




The Big Finish




Between the go and stop

she gives us license to be brave

to write with abandon


uniting the varied

with a word

Some sprint to the finish

others saunter

keystrokes clicking as the minutes tick

sharing the stories of our lives

some with poetry others in ministry

providing hope, love and glory of faith

Like life itself

every beginning has an ending

and a new opportunity

time passes and so too the baton

We write thankful for HIS gift

both she, and her words


Today we write not worrying if it’s right over at Lisa Jo Baker’s blog.  After four years and thousands of words FMF is moving.  Next Friday will be her last before it moves to another shining star.


Summer you give us

days that melt into each other

like the scooped ice cream

atop cones of plain or sugar


You bring heat that

relishes languid activities

on floating docks

we sip crisp libations

while lapping waves

work to produce polished stones


Rays of sun sway with trees creating dappled light

while black skies share space with crackling fires

fire flies and moonlit nights

lazy, hazy winds breathe fun filled days

into dream filled sleeps

with the comforting sound of the loon who cries


Games are played, puzzles solved and books are read

under the safety of rainbows that stretch

for miles searching for pots of gold


You tease us, then torment us

with  early end of season mark-downs

you pile snow suits into warehouses

and sell notebooks with lined pages


Why Summer, why?








Writers may be disreputable, incorrigibly early to decay or late to bloom but they dare to go it alone.    John Updike



It was pushing through the earth

towards a diamond sky

filling my heart with mirth

I cannot tell a lie


The chartreuse hint

bearing it’s place

was quiet at first

there was only a trace


I was hopeful


and I gave it room

sweet ivy,  you surprised me

you provided me bloom


With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be careful. Strive to be happy.  Max Ehrmann  


Today of course is Friday.  So try your hand at writing for five minutes not worrying if it is right.  Find Lisa Jo Baker’s blog here and give it a go.  Then visit your fellow writers and give them support.  We all need to feel the bloom.