Archive for the ‘a moment of beautiful’ Category
Merry Christmas surprise!
This afternoon I heard a tiny knock at the front door and arrived in time to see two children walking down our driveway. On the door handle I found a gift hanging! Very festive wrapping in a white dotted cellophane bag, a red card saying Merry Christmas and a gift wrapped in green tissue paper.
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I looked out at the street and there was a group of parents and children walking and waving. I waved back and said ‘Thank you,’ feeling quite festive!
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When my husband got home, we unwrapped the gift and inside was a beautiful sparkling ornament for our tree!
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On Facebook, I discovered people all around our neighbourhood had received this surprise. Makes me feel so happy and part of the neighbourhood!
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Merry Christmas everyone and especially to the families who made and delivered my surprise!
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All my best,
stay safe,
Jane.
Strawberry Kool-Aid Hair with Ribbons
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Strawberry Kool-Aid Hair
with Ribbons
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strawberry Kool-Aid hair
with ribbons
she pushes the button
to cross Dundonald
serious with her boyfriend
her backpack heavy
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she is like
the student on roller blades
skilled with traffic
not slowing near the top of Regent
reckless to the river
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or the man
a block from here
a man with a briefcase
leaning across the fence
making a bouquet
of pussy-willows
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All my best.
Stay safe.
Jane
Watercolour lessons
Although I have painted in various media for years, I have never had a watercolour lesson. I decided to remedy this when a friend told me about a series of seven lessons being given in the evenings once a week at the New Brunswick College of Craft and Design.
This week will be my third class and I have already learned so much.
Lesson one was a review of the colour chart and I learned how to find the complimentary colour and make variants of grey.
Lesson two had us trying various techniques. I have never sprinkled salt on wet watercolour before – the effects are delightful.
Although I have used resist techniques before, it was fun using wax pencil to make a moon.
Watercolour is very relaxing. I love the wet-on-wet technique, watching how colours bleed into one another.
And here is my new watercolour of tiny trees.
Looking forward to this week’s lesson.
All my best,
Jane
Small miracles
As I go through life, I occasionally encounter oddities so unexpected I think of them as small miracles. At least my interpretation is that some unseen force is at work, sending me messages of hope and faith.
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After my mom died, a small yellow warbler came to our window for most of the first year, an example of the kind of messaging I mean.
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Today I saw a small miracle, in a pot on the railing of the back deck. Although we have had several frosts, and although I have not planted pansies in the pot for at least three years, a little pansy plant was blooming in the pot.
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I am a biologist, so I know these things can be explained away. There was a stray pansy seed in the pot. Pansies are hardy plants. The house wall was only a few centimetres away, protecting the pot from frost. I know these things but my interpretation stands. And I have only gratitude.
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All my best,
Jane (a.k.a. Alexandra)
after a poetry reading
Why do you go to poetry readings? Is it because you are supporting a writing friend? Because you love poetry? Or because you search for the perfect poetic experience — the memorable reading of an unforgettable poem, expressive words you know you will always be able to summon. Have you ever left a poetry reading feeling renewed, animated, believing in the impossible?
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I attend a lot of readings. I go to support my writing friends. I go because I love words and poetry. I also go because I long for the memorable. Occasionally, I will hear words, phrases, poems to thrill me for the rest of my life.
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I have had many such experiences. I have been privileged to hear Roo Borson read her poem Grey Glove. I have heard Roger Moore read poems from his book Monkey Temple with his stirring Welsh accent. Years ago I heard a young Irish poet read her poem about a kettle boiling on the stove, and I have never forgotten her words even though I have forgotten her name.
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after the poetry reading
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Bailey Drive is a steep incline
for an out-of-shape heart
a pause returns the thud in ears
to chest where it needs to be, a moment
to see maples on the Aitken House lawn
animated by wind, as metaphor for adrenaline rush
of words
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as trees send Tesla coil sparks into blue sky
from trunks constrained by building
and sidewalks, to branches and twigs
unfettered, plasma filaments bloom
on fractal paths
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another pulse, trunk to bud-tips
and another, signals up and outward
heart slows and holds in place
lightning throb in continuum of space
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All my best,
Jane
new place to sit and dream
We recently replaced an old deck on the back of our house. We have not been able to use the space for years and now we have a place to sit and dream or read, even in the rain! We have another, larger deck, where I also sit when I need a break. But the new deck is more private and covered. For deck furniture we added a locally-made bench bought last year and a small table I made to celebrate cattails! I think I need a pillow with a cattail design for that left corner!
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Do you have a place where you can sit outside, even when it is raining?
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All my best,
Jane
curls
Ordinary things are so beautiful. Here are a few curls I have encountered this week:
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curls of wood on our new deck
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tendril on my cucumber plants
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curl at the end of a plant support
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All my best,
Jane
spirit guide
As a biologist, I believe that human beings are fundamentally connected to the natural world. We are part of that world. To live, we need to eat and drink and breathe. We respond to the cycles of climate and weather.
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I believe, to be whole, we need to experience nature on a daily basis. In winter it is so easy to hide within our warm houses and pretend we are immune. But when I have hibernated for a few days, I start to long for a snowflake on my tongue, the glimpse of a bird, the sound of ice cracking on the lake. I need fresh air, a moment spent counting the sides on a flake of snow, the dripping of maple sap into a metal pail, the chortle of a black crow, flying overhead.
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Call me crazy, but sometimes I am certain our connection with nature is one of communication. I am stopped by the knowing look of my cat staring at me as if she cannot understand my lack of understanding. I ask for a prayer to be answered and hear the low tremolo of a loon from the lake. I am startled by the constant return of a yellow bird to the window in the months after my mother dies. I watch my hand painting detail in a landscape and am amazed at how a white line can capture the essence of a leaf.
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I also feel kinship with a particular animal. Some days it seems to express my disgruntlement with life. Other days, my joy. When I think of sound, the first sound I remember is the beat of wings on overhead air.
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spirit guide
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after the proper length of fast
after the proper exposure to fire
I open my eyes
but I see no animal spirit
only black
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I listen
silence
unless you count the compression
of a single beat of wing
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I stretch and feel the atmosphere
detached
partitioned by sharpened feather fingers
and the zigzag trail
of some multi-legged crawler
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my mouth is filled
with the down
of fallen angels
(also feathered black)
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the stink of burning quills
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where is a crow
when you need to experience
more than the characteristics of crow?
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
renewal
Here we are in chill January. Days of snow and freezing rain, bitter cold and flooding and loss. Days when we don’t get enough sun to fill our requirement for Vitamin D. Days when summer seems so far away.
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As a retired person, my days are neither hectic nor sorrowful. My hours are filled with writing, painting, drawing, time on social media and an occasional meeting. I can go outside any time I want to get my dose of sunshine (if available). My stresses are few.
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Once life was not so easy. I worked long days and often came home tired and in a bad mood. But my husband and son made my days wonderful. I found this poem in my files, a testament to the way our families can inject hope into a slogging day! I wrote the poem in 2010, a couple of years before I retired.
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Renewal is possible
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I am entirely new today
some aspect of morning
has cast just-born skin
on me
the song sung by the kettle
the taste of the tea
the forecast of snow
the way you said goodbye
more like the promise of hello
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most days lately
have tears at all the edges
too much to do
too little time
late nights
mugs of coffee, half-gulped
clocks and messages despised
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through the day
I have waited for
old disappointments
to discover my face
but my noon coffee
has a hint of chocolate
and all my emails
are smile-embedded
and one of them from you
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my husband getting pussy willows for me …
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Copyright Jane Tims 2018
Tendrils
My cucumber vines are still thriving …
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And the tendrils are still so charming!
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This one wants to pull up a chair!
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On Friday, I had my first cucumber salad from my vines!
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Copyright 2017 Jane Tims
nichepoetryandprose 