tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-319066872011-12-25T07:22:47.944-08:00Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.comBlogger3481100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-79443790474301211372011-12-25T07:22:00.001-08:002011-12-25T07:22:47.997-08:00

Ulmer Clan 2011 VIEW SLIDE SHOW DOWNLOAD ALL

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-89864509403144799852011-09-02T11:47:00.001-07:002011-09-02T11:47:33.934-07:00

September rings bright again Bells tintintinning over the hummings of summer “Wake up sluggard”, to the plow New ground awaits expectant and fertile

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-83668598073128915772011-03-23T23:16:00.001-07:002011-03-23T23:16:43.030-07:00

a mystery a something that baffles and cannot be explained it is a riddle, a problem a person, a thing mysterious, ambiguous from Latin aenigma, from Greek ainigma, from ainissesthai        to speak in riddles, from ainos       a story , a fable, a me

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-79067492014900019892011-02-18T17:44:00.001-08:002011-02-18T17:44:42.937-08:00

The time when her cheeks were just this soft has past, and she’s been wearing glasses for half her life already.  But this is her – these are her inquisitive eyes, this her quiet intense look.  Readily absorbing all that is before her, watching carefully each detail, each important move, storing it up – for some  time or another. I am captivated today with this amazing portrait sent to her

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-33135583136949919552011-01-26T14:48:00.001-08:002011-01-26T14:48:24.993-08:00

The topic was Unusual Childhoods (how could I not enter that): I, the frog, did not notice the water set to boil. Most days, I was too busy climbing up into the rafters, hanging 8 ft. over cement floors, listening to The Rolling Stones, laughing at my brother swinging like a monkey, and ignoring my sister doing the dishes. We were the Lord and Ladies of Stark’s Bog ruling over all we surveyed –

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-11967881460444567692011-01-23T23:33:00.001-08:002011-01-23T23:33:31.000-08:00

Sometimes the light is so perfect it plays tricks on the eyes. I thought for just a moment that my babies had grown big and sure; I thought for a moment they didn’t need me and ran ahead without a care.  I thought for a moment they shouldn’t change, that they should remain.  But in the light now I see they are just as they should be growing in confidence and still carefree. 

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-68138960784565260002011-01-16T17:45:00.001-08:002011-01-16T17:45:59.223-08:00

Every day I am in service to my family – every day regardless of school, holidays, or weekends I am serving – as long as I have charge over these lovelies I am at service, serving, putting aside and picking up, humbly and not so humbly laying aside my own wants, wishes, desires, and yes even dreams to ensure the wellbeing and care of my family.  And although there is a yes, there is a choosing,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-38455884777765571872011-01-07T17:11:00.001-08:002011-01-07T17:11:46.559-08:00

I am fretful about my future life – my “after the kids are grown beyond needing me on a daily basis” life– it is a tangible niggling fret which pops up more and more frequently as I note the changing ages of each of my children. I look aimlessly and somewhat hopelessly through career sites looking for the magic answers to – what should I do, what would I be good at, what would I enjoy doing?

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-1238694322928760962010-02-10T15:26:00.001-08:002010-02-10T15:26:50.413-08:00

Slowly I am pulling down and apart our lives – our seven and a half years of living in this small space which is now crowded with memories and books. It all seems to crumble in my hands exposing one long buried moment, memory or time after another – tiny pearls in my hand.  My mind a giant sifting machine – sorting, gauging, prioritizing them all, keep this, toss that.  Boxes of letters and cards

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-68589232954160243102010-01-26T10:15:00.001-08:002010-01-26T10:20:19.177-08:00

  Joy finds me today in the notice that someone somewhere is having a baby.  I don’t know the person, but I know a person who knows a person and so I smile and that happy giddy full chest feeling fills my otherwise struggling and anxious person.  Joy and I have been getting better acquainted other the last weeks, God mastered the greeting and now we are sitting awkwardly across the table from

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-18200905522865113312010-01-16T14:29:00.001-08:002010-01-16T19:36:04.545-08:00

Once more I wriggle out from under the weight of a season of celebration – her birthday, HIS birthday, his birthday, her birthday with a new year and St. Nicholas Day thrown in just for fun. I am relieved and exhausted and itching to scrub away the remnants, to emerge tender-skinned. So here I am again looking into this corner of my world wondering if once again I might find it a place where I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-36079561568042487342010-01-16T10:10:00.000-08:002010-01-16T10:17:59.028-08:00

the time has come to brush away the cobwebs.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-3942904223763852432009-09-06T12:55:00.000-07:002009-09-06T13:24:24.025-07:00

Well daily writing ... shmaily writing ...Today I am reading "The World as I See it" by Albert Einstein.Preamble -- This book does not contain Einsteins scientific writings but his personal views about all sorts of other things. Einstein was a pacifist, an idealist, and an introvert who believed profoundly in social systems, public service and the importance of the individual. These are things I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-48198787889946226352009-09-03T23:03:00.000-07:002009-09-03T23:18:14.084-07:00

What I missed a day ... already ... (sigh)... Well today was a perfect rainy cool day for reading and I bothered my husband (who was working from home) with many quotes from "Anna" -- perhaps he won't work from home as much anymore (that would be sad). But due to the heft of my eyelids I must abbreviate thoughts:- Tolstoy wrote intuitively about things which psychologist and psychiatrists have

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-89142756709019024002009-09-01T18:55:00.000-07:002009-09-01T23:08:52.248-07:00

I've been thinking -- I tend to do that more than actually doing anything, except maybe wash dishes, I do wash a lot of dishes.This is my thought -- I want to write here more often. I really do! In fact I want to challenge myself to writing everyday this month but I don't want to think too hard about what I am going to write about. I want a theme - a something to tie it all together.And since I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-81570384157114330462009-08-26T16:57:00.000-07:002009-08-27T11:22:23.387-07:00

Summer light is beginning to ebb and the day is shorter and cooler, last night's cool breeze carried a scent of autumn but I sit here today contented, neither rushing onward into the yellow and orange of fall or looking back over my shoulder for the white hot of summer. I pause in this moment, taking it in, trying to infuse my bones with this almost serenity - feeling only slightly beleaguered by

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-91970132149267690812009-06-11T16:59:00.000-07:002009-06-11T17:00:58.268-07:00

I feel electric ...a buzzing irritation running along my lines ...cycling from head to toe ...touch me and you are likely to get zapped.They are falling like flies ...dodging and weaving under my radar ...careful ...but the two ..the two initiates ...the two too young to have learned as of yet that when mummy hums she is a live wire ....dangerous and hot ...frayed ...fueled by her own guilt and

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-40695015668848350412009-04-24T14:02:00.000-07:002009-04-24T14:12:06.786-07:00

As much as I am grieving,As much as I am hurting,I would choose you againthis same way. I would choose my regrets andguilt compounded tenfoldfor the single happy memory of your face looking up into mine.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-73133017514875863372009-04-15T16:28:00.000-07:002009-04-15T16:46:58.170-07:00

On my camera I have some shots of my lovely red scribbler -- photos I wanted to share -- but my new temporary computer isn't willing to allow me to transfer photos presently. Long sigh -- undisguised. Perhaps another time -- computer willing.Today: a cinquainPencilpotentially poisedabove empty spaceimpatiently awaits my muselimply(The girls and I worked together on cinquains which followed

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-55734891587972973872009-04-14T14:03:00.000-07:002009-04-14T14:22:06.081-07:00

So I forgot to mention that I, in no way, believe these "little" poems of mine are great and poignant -- just so's ya know -- it is more an activity in just letting them out and be and to have a little fun along the way. They are especially fun when written out in a Hiroy (8mm ruled with margin) Exercise Book (mine is bright red) -- they are made in Canada, but I am sure one could find a suitable

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-14320172347744890852009-04-13T11:01:00.000-07:002009-04-13T11:25:27.113-07:00

So it is poetry month again -- another year gone so quickly (I shan't try to explain my quiet, it is and probably will be again) but recently words have come tumbling back and they seem to want to rest here a bit, so here we are again, a little late but present none the less.The kids and I have been exploring poetry together again this month, listening, reading, writing a little too. I have been

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-43593531520554609942009-02-01T13:03:00.000-08:002009-02-01T13:07:30.082-08:00

I thought I would share a little meme I wrote for that social networking site place everyone seems to be involved in, you know the one. Here are 25 current, random, offbeat things about me --1. I collect things up like squirrels do food – not things exactly as much as ideas, images, quotes, bits of interesting trivia, stats, trends, and then I stuff them here and there and everywhere certain

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-49129921718270442922008-11-24T14:12:00.000-08:002008-11-24T14:24:05.445-08:00

Watching children growwatching the sunrise and fall shadow and lightbeauty and sorrowall fleetingand fleeingbefore my eyes

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-75257384514920546662008-08-28T14:16:00.000-07:002008-08-28T14:20:08.687-07:00

Itchy and jumpy my mind jitters and jumps anxious and restlessLooking for a place to land which isn’t for them or him or anyoneWanting to jump in and get messy muck about and make somethingI long to wander off today ...It sometimes feels as if I spend half my time willing myself to stay putTo keep from drifting offInto the wild yonder – sinking and sifting – looking and lingeringHard this job of

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-60630621110052789722008-07-29T22:50:00.001-07:002008-07-29T22:52:47.947-07:00

So I had this thing I was writing … and then it wasn’t … anymore. So I sit here again writing … searching for the trail I had been following … quite certain it is gone … the scent faded into the wide open angles of nothingness.My keyboard is sticky which makes this a less than comfortable endeavour – it takes some effort to hit the keys hard enough … jars the senses to have to work so hard to get

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-57312141723064063902008-07-23T13:03:00.000-07:002008-07-23T13:06:28.900-07:00

I am actually in the middle of writing something for this very lonely place but it isn't finished -- so instead I have this great blog entry to share instead --Keri Smith's On being an artisit and a mother

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-42295459307983675882008-06-06T11:34:00.000-07:002008-06-06T11:59:31.561-07:00

There was a patch of dirtthat had dreamsof being a yard ...with tool and handhe tore itbreaking the hard packedlong baked earth ... temptedseeds translucent frail and smallgrew ..giftslayed out inoffering unfinished he labouredwetted with promisethings grewgreen so she rejoicedand life abounded.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-16420541704365812008-05-13T15:32:00.000-07:002008-05-13T15:39:03.630-07:00

I sometimes wonder if there is so little to write about because it all has gone before – is there much more to be said these days that I haven’t already said – am I perhaps easier read than I thought? Even I am waning – of my own gnashing – dusty and dryI wait now for the weight of this pollinated life to bear me out –But comes the rain –a little waterTo cleansTo removeTo strip away the

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-61976915172952677962008-05-09T21:49:00.000-07:002008-05-09T21:52:38.337-07:00

I am in love with moving –especially unhurried – carefree unbidden moving. So camera snapping – I chase to hold themswiftly darting skipping climbingrunning throwing catching fallingsweeping me upand up and upinto their whirlwindin the surenessof their movingI am tossedAnd moved We are on the go these days … swimming lessons, dentist appointments, adventures … moving to and fro unfettered and

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-69070667845719518452008-05-06T19:37:00.000-07:002008-05-06T19:45:57.428-07:00

I saw this somewhere and I liked it - I suppose it could be a meme but it seems to have evolved out of a daily journal exercise of some kind. Outside My Window .... the sun is shining brightly under the promise of heavy grey rain clouds***I am thinking ... . I must teach my kids to floss.***I am thankful for ... a dental plan***From the kitchen ....dishes wait.***I am wearing .... myself out

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-74636397326178006002008-05-01T08:02:00.000-07:002008-05-01T08:16:03.595-07:00

333. two bigger heads bent over and around the computer screen – cheering on one smaller head busy learning her letters 334. Spontaneous rounds of the “ABC’s” with a new friend they met at the pool 335. a new ease in the water, budding water babies 336. kind bus drivers helping a mom and her four kids find seats on crowded buses 337. the smell of chlorine scented hair 338. four stacked up bodies

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-62396436621794508002008-04-30T09:16:00.000-07:002008-04-30T09:18:53.994-07:00

This MomentA neighbourhood.At dusk.Things are getting readyto happenout of sight.Stars and moths.And rinds slanting around fruit.But not yet.One tree is black.One window is yellow as butter.A woman leans down to catch a childwho has run into her armsthis moment.Stars rise.~ Eavan Boland

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-62187297315731252022008-04-29T14:22:00.000-07:002008-04-29T14:32:59.294-07:00

To begin take one very stubbornly grumpy child --Take her picture Add in one very naturally caring and silly older siblingTake her picture MixBeware spontaneous impactMonitor carefullyTake more pictures Results varyin degreeof silliness Guaranteed happinessEnjoy!

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-88605719723912678402008-04-29T07:52:00.000-07:002008-04-29T07:54:09.344-07:00

GoofusSometimes my mind is crazySometimes my mind is dumbSometimes it sings like angel wingsAnd beeps like kingdom come.My mother calls me MaryMy father calls me FredMy brother calls me StumblebumAnd kicks me out of bed.Go tell it on a T-shirtGo tell a TV screen:My summy's turning tummersaultsAnd I am turning green.Don't come to me in AprilDon't come to me in GuelphDon't come to me in

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-81792890106478539052008-04-29T07:46:00.000-07:002008-04-29T07:49:36.612-07:00

Be Careful of WordsBe careful of words,even the miraculous ones.For the miraculous ones we do our best,sometimes they swarm like insectsand leave not a sting but a kiss.They can be good as fingers.They can be trusty as the rockyou stick your bottom on.But they can be both daisies and bruises.Yet I am in love with words.They are doves falling out of the ceiling.They are six holy oranges sitting in

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-75007480789628842202008-04-27T10:05:00.000-07:002008-04-27T10:12:20.511-07:00

Morning PoemEvery morningthe worldis created.Under the orangesticks of the sunthe heapedashes of the nightturn into leaves againand fasten themselves to the high branches ---and the ponds appearlike black clothon which are painted islandsof summer lilies.If it is your natureto be happyyou will swim away along the soft trailsfor hours, your imaginationalighting everywhere.And if your spiritcarries

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-22230607422234648882008-04-26T16:30:00.000-07:002008-04-26T16:40:22.273-07:00

She asks me aglow in the attention --"Mama, why are you taking so many pictures of me?""Because this is your four year old self and I want to remember it.""Then you should take more pictures of me Mama - like my feet!""and what feet they are indeed!"

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-25174771467184438292008-04-26T16:27:00.000-07:002008-04-26T16:30:31.375-07:00

Some People Like PoetrySome people-that means not everyone.Not even most of them, only a few.Not counting school, where you have to,and poets themselves,you might end up with something like two per thousand.Like-but then, you can like chicken noodle soup,or compliments, or the color blue,your old scarf,your own way,petting the dog.Poetry-but what is poetry anyway?More than one rickety answerhas

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-77254273379246211912008-04-25T09:49:00.000-07:002008-04-25T09:54:38.326-07:00

DeeperOften at night, sometimesout in the snow or going into the music, the hunch says,"Deeper."I don't know what it means.Just, "Push it. Go further. Go deeper."And when they come talking at me I getantsy at times, but mostly I stay put and it keeps saying,"Deeper. This is not it. You must go deeper."There is danger in this, alsobeautiful fingers and I believe it can issue ingestures of concord;

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-38616255752465068672008-04-24T09:41:00.000-07:002008-04-24T09:44:10.024-07:00

Sacred TimeNot time at all, really, but spacelike you don't know, and knowledge there,in general, finally admitshow meager a consolationit has been all along. Onceyou grow accustomed to the sprawland velocity your own mindarticulates (and that queasyrocking tapers to a hum) you mighthave pause to entertain a senseof presence reaching suddenly,and now, and deeply, ever so.~ Scott Cairns

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-91287917208371956872008-04-23T10:14:00.000-07:002008-04-23T10:16:56.794-07:00

HopeHope is with you when you believeThe earth is not a dream but living flesh,That sight, touch, and hearing do not lie,That all things you have ever seen hereAre like a garden looked at from a gate.You cannot enter. But you're sure it's there.Could we but look more clearly and wiselyWe might discover somewhere in the gardenA strange new flower and an unnamed star.Some people say we should not

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-25335342083687711612008-04-22T13:57:00.001-07:002008-04-22T13:57:27.708-07:00

About the BloathIn the undergrowthThere dwells the BloathWho feeds upon poets and tea.Luckily I know this about him,While he knows almost nothing of me. ~ Shel Silverstein

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-74134756927618833612008-04-21T14:32:00.000-07:002008-04-21T14:34:56.516-07:00

The grit on the trackThe ground is always there, witnessing how you walk. You need light to travel a dark path, and you need to travel light. Otherwise the shadows that turn out to be submerged boulders and roots will trip you, and your heavy pack will bear you down into the hard anguish of gravel that is more than your knees can bear. Even roadside dust clings to your heels as if God

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-13533126649734392472008-04-20T16:10:00.000-07:002008-04-20T16:14:17.338-07:00

The JourneyOne day you finally knewwhat you had to do, and began,though the voices around youkept shoutingtheir bad advice--though the whole housebegan to trembleand you felt the old tugat your ankles."Mend my life!"each voice cried.But you didn't stop.You knew what you had to do,though the wind priedwith its stiff fingersat the very foundations,though their melancholywas terrible.It was already

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-7183799561150766192008-04-19T10:43:00.000-07:002008-04-19T10:56:33.947-07:00

The WakingI wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.I learn by going where I have to go.We think by feeling. What is there to know?I hear my being dance from ear to ear.I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.Of those so close beside me, which are you?God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,And learn by going where I have to go.Light takes the Tree;

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-59169388701968436392008-04-18T09:43:00.000-07:002008-04-18T09:46:32.472-07:00

Making Poetry‘You have to inhabit poetryif you want to make it.’And what’s ‘to inhabit?’To be in the habit of, to wearwords, sitting in the plainest light,in the silk of morning, in the shoe of night;a feeling bare and frondish in surprising air;familiar. . . rare.And what’s ‘to make?’To be and to become words’ passingweather; to serve a girl on terrible terms, embark on voyages over voices,evade

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-64128661791193017922008-04-17T16:19:00.000-07:002008-04-17T16:21:55.997-07:00

My brain is a rather busy place and not just because I am thinking for four children, a cat, a dog, sometimes a husband but because I have a rather demanding thinking compartment in my brain which feeds on input – we jokingly call my eldest dear daughter (my little mini-me) Johnny Five (all us oldies may know is as a reference to the Short Circuit movies with Ally Sheedy and Steve Guttenberg) the

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-62972594067365388772008-04-17T08:50:00.000-07:002008-04-17T08:59:27.026-07:00

Candle HatIn most self-portraits it is the face that dominates:Cezanne is a pair of eyes swimming in brushstrokes,Van Gogh stares out of a halo of swirling darkness,Rembrant looks relieved as if he were taking a breatherfrom painting The Blinding of Sampson.But in this one Goya stands well back from the mirrorand is seen posed in the clutter of his studioaddressing a canvas tilted back on a tall

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-87809284028821048592008-04-16T09:49:00.000-07:002008-04-16T09:52:12.581-07:00

The Summer DayWho made the world?Who made the swan, and the black bear?Who made the grasshopper?This grasshopper, I mean-the one who has flung herself out of the grass,the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.Now

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-66138806494874218252008-04-15T12:33:00.000-07:002008-04-15T12:34:48.818-07:00

I am fashioned as a galaxy,Not as a solid substance but a meshOf atoms in their far complexityForming the pattern of my bone and flesh.Small solar systems are my eyes,Muscle and sinew are composed of air.Like comets flashing through the evening skiesMy blood runs, ordered, arrogant, and fair.Ten lifetimes distant is the nearest star,And yet within my body, firm as wood,Proton and electron

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-58496969204031199262008-04-14T12:37:00.000-07:002008-04-14T12:38:11.764-07:00

Poems fall not from a tree, really, but from the richly pollinated boughs of an ordinary life, buzzing, as lives are, with clamor and glory. ~ Barbara Kingsolver

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-39112606439805100902008-04-14T07:42:00.001-07:002008-04-14T07:47:06.508-07:00

Sometimes it feels as if I am pushing my children through a play dough mold trying to use the same tools to create in each of them a heart of good, but each time I push another through I find more and more play dough bits stuck in the traps and crevasses and I wonder – what is being left out – squeezed out of them – which sharp corners have I rounded in my questing after an image – a mirage. It

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-25537811544642658992008-04-13T19:46:00.000-07:002008-04-13T19:49:18.695-07:00

ObedienceWhen my fingers knowbetter than Ias they hover overthe keyboard, then typea word that is notthe word I wanted buta better word—what is thatbut an answer, youcaring for details, fillingcracks, your poetryarc-ing its swift currentthrough my bones.~ Luci Shaw

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-49771473519424497692008-04-12T10:53:00.000-07:002008-04-12T10:56:04.181-07:00

blessing the boats(at St. Mary's)may the tidethat is entering even nowthe lip of our understandingcarry you outbeyond the face of fearmay you kissthe wind then turn from itcertain that it willlove your back may youopen your eyes to waterwater waving foreverand may you in your innocencesail through this to that~ Lucille Clifton

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-12870224764972656792008-04-11T12:03:00.000-07:002008-04-11T12:14:30.580-07:00

The OmnipresenceReminders flicker at us fromodd angles, nor will he be ignored;we sight him in unlikely places,oaths and dates and empty tombs.God. His print is everywhere,stamped on the macro- and the microcosm.Feathers, shells, stars, cells speakhis diversity. The multiplicity ofleaf and light says God. Wind,sensed but unseen, breathes the oldmetaphor again. Seasons are hissignature. The double

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-26937923317327438742008-04-10T13:14:00.000-07:002008-04-10T13:17:22.559-07:00

The Day is DoneThe day is done, and the darknessFalls from the wings of Night,As a feather is wafted downwardFrom an eagle in his flight.I see the lights of the villageGleam through the rain and the mist,And a feeling of sadness comes o'er meThat my soul cannot resist: A feeling of sadness and longing,That is not akin to pain,And resembles sorrow onlyAs the mist resembles the rain.Come, read to

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-73843096847143605782008-04-09T09:05:00.000-07:002008-04-09T09:11:17.879-07:00

My Little DollI once had a sweet little doll, dears,The prettiest doll in the world;Her cheeks were so red and so white, dears,And her hair was so charmingly curled.But I lost my poor little doll, dears,As I played in the heath one day;And I cried for more than a week, dears,But I never could find where she lay.I found my poor little doll, dears,As I played in the heath one day;Folks say she is

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-8090754817587395012008-04-08T12:55:00.000-07:002008-04-08T12:57:16.845-07:00

ColorsMy skin is kind of sort of brownishPinkish yellowish white.My eyes are greyish blueish green,But I'm told they look orange in the night.My hair is reddish blondish brown,But it's silver when it's wet.And all the colors I am insideHave not been invented yet.~ Shel Silverstein

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-88687279910495564802008-04-07T17:38:00.000-07:002008-04-07T17:41:56.505-07:00

Nest EggsBirds all the summer dayFlutter and quarrelHere in the arbour-likeTent of the laurel.Here in the forkThe brown nest is seated;For little blue eggsThe mother keeps heated.While we stand watching herStaring like gabies,Safe in each egg are theBird's little babies.Soon the frail eggs they shallChip, and upspringingMake all the April woodsMerry with singing.Younger than we are,O children,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-49386249191302361802008-04-06T10:24:00.000-07:002008-04-06T10:31:39.869-07:00

The ScientistAnd Nature, the old nurse, tookThe child upon her knee,Saying : “Here is a story-bookThy Father has written for thee.’’“Come, wander with me.’’ she said,"Into regions yet untrod;And read what is still unreadIn the manuscripts of God.’’And he wandered away and awayWith Nature, the dear old nurse,Who sang to him night and dayThe rhymes of the universe.And whenever the way seemed long,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-89192543605309703562008-04-05T08:38:00.000-07:002008-04-05T08:39:45.189-07:00

The Great Big HoleLook at the road!Look at the road!Right in the middleis a great big hole.What shall we do?What shall we dowhen get closeto the great big hole?I walk round,I walk roundright round the edgeof the great big hole.But you fall in,you fall in.You disappearin the great big hole.Now there’s me!Now there’s me!Just me on my ownand a great big hole.~ Michael Rosen

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-77980720099101741362008-04-04T11:34:00.000-07:002008-04-04T11:37:30.524-07:00

My KingdomDown by a shining water wellI found a very little dell,No higher than my head.The heather and the gorse aboutIn summer bloom were coming out,Some yellow and some red.I called the little pool a sea;The little hills were big to me;For I am very small.I made a boat, I made a town,I searched the caverns up and down,And named them one and all.And all about was mine, I said,The little

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-41027912602151226192008-04-03T08:17:00.000-07:002008-04-03T08:19:37.318-07:00

Introduction to PoetryI ask them to take a poemand hold it up to the lightlike a color slideor press an ear against its hive.I say drop a mouse into a poemand watch him probe his way out,or walk inside the poem's roomand feel the walls for a light switch.I want them to waterskiacross the surface of a poemwaving at the author's name on the shore.But all they want to dois tie the poem to a chair

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-35371260581555484772008-04-02T22:45:00.000-07:002008-04-02T22:48:09.588-07:00

Re- starting is the hardest thing – re-starting a conversation I seem to have forgotten all about – finding that place where I stepped back and not forward – blogging a dance with a rhythm all its own – once that is lost it is hard to re-start -- so many rehearsed steps in my head they have trod all over one another – and I pause here awkward–To appease the need to explain I will say this much,I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-51763668675392259952008-04-02T11:12:00.000-07:002008-04-02T11:14:27.622-07:00

A Poem is a Little PathA poem is a little pathThat leads you through the trees.It takes you to the cliffs and shores,To anywhere you please.Follow it and trust your wayWith mind and heart as one,And when the journey's over,You'll find you've just begun.~ Charles Ghigna

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-28075969172677664252008-04-01T23:02:00.000-07:002008-04-01T23:04:29.715-07:00

DreamsHold fast to dreamsFor if dreams dieLife is a broken-winged birdThat cannot fly.Hold fast to dreamsFor when dreams goLife is a barren fieldFrozen with snow.From The Dreamkeeper and Other Poems by Langston Hughes

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-72465733768852133612008-02-28T14:08:00.000-08:002008-02-28T14:16:05.159-08:00

Today I took another personality quiz – something I have a perhaps irresistible attraction to doing. So did Dr. Phil have anything enlightenling to say – to reveal to me? – Unfortunately no … perhaps one day I will be surprised but so far every “which character” “ which type” “which whatever” quiz has stoutly reinforced what I already know about myself – so why do I keep taking them…. I think I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-21535890310041022122008-02-26T15:36:00.000-08:002008-02-26T15:46:40.611-08:00

Us out in the big wide world (This goes out to my most loyal reader just so that her subscription feeder doesn’t come up empty – again)I had four children within a 51 month window (that’s just over four years) – doing so was probably a little crazy, I don’t however regret it – but it has had it’s drawbacks – or rather effects. For example – with four children aged 4 to infant it is impossible (or

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-13101124595335091192008-02-19T14:23:00.000-08:002008-02-19T14:32:27.883-08:00

Quiz: originally meant "an eccentric person," which is a person who acts or thinks in an unusual way.I like this meaning although obscure and virtually wiped out of existence since the 1700's but I believe I aspire to be just such a person - a quiz. That just sounds right.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-24012506869610044632008-02-04T17:40:00.000-08:002008-02-04T17:42:36.036-08:00

Oh where have all the minutes gone between then and now … Time, you are a wicked friend. Callous and unfeeling … can’t you bend for just this moment … these moments when … must you herd me along so quickly … I haven’t a chance to catch my breath. Cruel, too cruel to strip it all away so … if for a moment you could only just give out a more generous portion so I could finish what I started,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-78263817508939732542008-01-16T14:36:00.000-08:002008-01-16T14:39:24.734-08:00

Dear me,I think it is time to look a little more closely at your ways –I think maybe you have locked yourself into a pattern, a rut – a way of thinking yourself out of doing things.- important things – life affirming things.The not doing of said things is beginning to wear you out – pulling away bits of your comfort - creating anxieties where none should be –Insipid fears of shadows – mountains

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-62539053146302131882008-01-09T09:17:00.000-08:002008-01-09T11:03:19.563-08:00

There is something that happens in my brain as I near a child’s birthday – it is as if a film is removed from my eyes and I begin seeing how my child has miraculously grown up – my head is so often buried in the dailiness of our lives that I seem to lose touch with the changes and when the time comes for me to actually acknowledge that another year has past and gone – I feel like I am drowning

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-38199171295040783422008-01-08T14:31:00.000-08:002008-01-08T14:55:33.742-08:00

Size 5 shirts, size 10 shoes, size 6 pants -- how is it possible? Three little years have slipped by since I first held you outside – smoothed newborn hair down with the whole of my hand – bundled you up within my arms tucking in little arms and legs, snuggled up around your little boy body. Now you press into me full bodied and I stumble to stay sure footed, every time I lift your solid self I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-73671288108035390322008-01-07T17:00:00.001-08:002008-01-07T17:00:54.651-08:00

The dishes are in the sink, soaking after a day of neglect – or rather, chosen ignoring – the clutter around the house is bridging upon domination and the laundry is running only a slight second. Already two week have passed since Christmas, and two birthdays have come and gone, the third and last looming ahead in just two more sleeps. My teeth are reminding me I need to see the dentist, a few,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-6483786183726519292008-01-03T09:22:00.000-08:002008-01-03T09:39:46.886-08:00

Two new (to me) and very exciting (so say I) websites to share:First: kiva.org -- loans that change livesWe let you loan to the working poorKiva lets you connect with and loan money to unique small businesses in the developing world. By choosing a business on Kiva.org, you can "sponsor a business" and help the world's working poor make great strides towards economic independence.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-18735435293685951782007-12-21T11:53:00.000-08:002007-12-21T13:11:47.403-08:00

Oh I can’t find it … I know it must be around somewhere but after much searching I still can’t find it … it is THE PICTURE … the one which springs to mind when I think of little tiny you, newly born – fresh faced, copper haired and snug in a perfectly fit white sleeper – blue blanket, closed eyes and arms flopped out , at peace like only sleeping newborn babies can be. The one … I wanted to hold

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-32145549357901900142007-12-14T13:37:00.000-08:002007-12-14T13:47:55.635-08:00

"The spirit of Christmas needs to be superseded by the Spirit of Christ.The spirit of Christmas is annual; the Spirit of Christ is eternal.The spirit of Christmas is sentimental; the Spirit of Christ is supernatural. The spirit of Christmas is a human product; the Spirit of Christ is a divine person. That makes all the difference in the world."- Stuart Briscoe in Meet Him at the Manger(borrowed

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-12182915464759325882007-12-11T17:21:00.000-08:002007-12-11T17:22:03.233-08:00

Where I am …I am not certain what it is about me, this compelling silence that seems to have hold of me, limits my fingers to the making and doing and living out of my days without tripping across the keys these days.A year gone – and it is hard to hold on to the older rhythm of the words, now found in a more meandering path along my brain, new school days brought new school day ways, time for

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-55473267932234928182007-11-30T10:40:00.000-08:002007-11-30T10:43:55.602-08:00

I have been thinking a great deal about what it takes to love a person – what it is to love.I feel I am very fortunate to have such great love in my life – beyond fortunate to be love by God.But my ruminations center more around how my understanding of the - living out - of love grows and deepens as the years pass by and I find myself living through the meat of life. And I am ever awed by what my

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-60318955540607411792007-11-26T10:41:00.000-08:002007-11-26T10:45:33.183-08:00

Grumpy and miserable was I yesterday morning – shouting (a shameful habit which plagues me more than I like) and muttering – all prickly and spiny – finally after yet another huff and puff I went off to shower – uncomfortable with myself, I prayed –“God, help me to see the brighter things – to lift my eyes off the toy cluttered floors and smudgy walls. I don’t want to be this person today – help

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-67928079438159612172007-11-24T14:23:00.000-08:002007-11-26T10:48:35.990-08:00

I have been long absent from this space -- but my mind and fingers have been at work unseen but mostly unfinished so I thought I might share a thing or two out of the unpublished file -- in hopes of finding some clarity of thought: I always felt embarrassed that they were so big, I believed them to be unfeminine, and myself unfeminine because of them. I never dared to grow my fingernails long and

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-37964179780650465522007-11-17T17:41:00.000-08:002007-11-17T17:43:06.330-08:00

ouchmy wristmy sidemy legstop it and leave me bewhy can’t You let me just beI want a little peace, can’t I have a little peaceAren’t You suppose to be the Peacemaker, Prince of etc etcWhy then this mad wrestlingThis nasty bit of tug of warIt hurts, Your insistent elbow to my sideNudge nudge nudging meEver present pokings and proddingsHaven’t I earned a little restA little quietEven some

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-35418742332757427562007-11-09T07:04:00.000-08:002007-11-09T07:07:42.721-08:00

Flooded am I with the image of her hand pushed up against her soft pale skin, hand cradling cheek, fingers brushing lips. Same hand, same cheek, same fingers witnessed I those few short months while she was a baby, and now here she is in her near four year old skin, nuzzling her hand under her chin in the same way, same pose. My mother heart thumps loudly, my mind comes alive with memory – I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-51818675613520536562007-11-07T08:27:00.000-08:002007-11-07T08:32:14.218-08:00

toddler, toddles aboutunaware -wonder ledwandering aboutdangersunknowing,hands lightupon shoulders,this way child~this way,come.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-48059582323198381582007-11-05T07:48:00.000-08:002007-11-05T07:49:42.955-08:00

one by one before metaunting and teasing“Look at me and me and me and me and me and me and …”emboldened and drawing nearto pluck and prune and pullat weedsa never ending line and listof pluck pluck pluckingan every day pullingand prying away at weedsdown and down on down a rowsnatching up the threat of greensripping and tearingdirt eruptingshoulders hunching,lips sighingglancing now the row

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-72620614200031034852007-10-24T17:44:00.000-07:002007-10-24T18:01:51.276-07:00

I have been rather melancholy/funky/down in the dumps lately and today didn’t start out so very hot either. I got up when the alarm beeped at 6:15am having already been mostly awake for some time – a recent and annoying happening. I was tired and unenthused about the task of donning workout attire and then hoofing it over to the woman’s gym I have been attending for (wow) nearly three years. I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-82647284260398821212007-10-22T14:46:00.000-07:002007-10-22T14:54:09.297-07:00

323. Oranges and yellow hues, warming enough to inspire a want to curl up in them and hibernate for the winter324. Soft brown trusting puppy dog eyes, looking back up at me with so much devotion it hurts325. The spring in that same aged puppy’s step as she plays fetch with the kids, freshly invigorated after a long cuddle and comb326. Cool fall winds blowing upon pink cheeks and exuberant

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-17496510852366240532007-10-20T10:17:00.000-07:002007-10-20T10:19:40.149-07:00

Busy brained in this wee hour of the morning … I sit here trying to give it room to run so that I might sleep again soon. Pestered by the random thoughts and unresolved thinking, I wonder at my state of mind. I know I have been troubled lately, ruminating over the glum, working hard to pull forth the better things. Feel some pressures relating to my aging self (no I don’t think I am old – but

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-83485153151768415292007-10-18T16:24:00.000-07:002007-10-18T16:33:39.967-07:00

I am feeling the weight of my “other life” these days – the one which haunts me, the unchosen path – the other possibility. Craziness, in that it does not, could not exist and yet it lingers and plays upon my being as some long forgotten lifetime. I wonder at her sometimes – the city grown woman, living alone doting upon her friends, her friend’s children – coming home to the curious little

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-3436172059406045742007-10-14T15:53:00.000-07:002007-10-14T23:14:52.232-07:00

It is hard to pick up a thread amongst the many, tangled and knotted about in my head, which pertain to you. Memories of you come and go and today they seem very far out at sea – dark silhouettes on the horizon. I would wade out into the dark waters to find you but today I lack the fortitude. Gone so long now – I wonder at the knowing of you – at my shallow knowing of you. And yet --- and yet you

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-39686444896065847962007-10-11T14:55:00.001-07:002007-10-11T15:00:05.753-07:00

restlessness -- wandering feet meandering aimless and wearily along the same path ... looking again for the reasonI spin in circles here in this house, tucking things here and there and everywhere hoping to find the other side of chaos – but it lingers just under the skin of things – even in the moments when I stand back and find things sifted well into place, I know if I look over my shoulder I

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-15017485066033400622007-10-07T11:50:00.000-07:002007-10-07T11:54:01.147-07:00

Grinning underIndigo blue skiesVibrant joys andEclectic waysTouch --Hands holdingApple red cheeks -- come inNearness cuppingKindnesses in small hands -- usher inSoundless soul popping praise(Happy Thanksgiving my fellow Canadians)

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-75896015345459062402007-10-06T11:53:00.000-07:002007-10-06T21:52:04.768-07:00

There is a place I dream of – a perfect place – an idyllic place -- my fantasy place which comes upon my mind like a whisper or soft touch. The same high up house on the rocks – wooden walls and tall windows – I am not sure how many walls there are in my little study because it seems I can look about me and see the sea in every direction – the craggy rocks below me, wind swept skies and the

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-29435755255632383492007-10-04T14:54:00.001-07:002007-10-04T15:03:17.756-07:00

Overt all eyes from the laundry, the poor quality ... and you will find you have entered into the mind of a seven year old girl. Isn't she lovely?

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-8898179032945324462007-10-02T16:49:00.001-07:002007-10-02T17:10:27.930-07:00

For her birthday, David and I gave Emma a kid proof digital camera. It is designed for kids, which is something I don’t really want to think too much about at present; regardless it has given me a snippet of an opportunity to view the world through the eyes of my daughter – almost quite literally.I admit it makes me flinch that she takes pictures of things with piles of laundry right behind them,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-24541084873979020082007-09-28T16:28:00.000-07:002007-09-28T16:29:47.646-07:00

Look at me – I have a moment to sit and write and although there are things piling up in my head that must get done – I am pausing here to just write. My little release value – spewing out, draining off some of my pent up being. I wanted to be outside today, I strove to get us there – just get through to then and we could make it out into the cool, blustery fallness but all for naught when the

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-9006268643601506972007-09-25T13:13:00.001-07:002007-09-25T13:18:36.568-07:00

I didn’t know at 15 that 35 was just around the corner.At 15, I could hardly see past graduation let alone past 20.At 20, I couldn’t see past graduating from University – that was a big murky world I just couldn’t get my head around.By 25, I had been orphaned by two Dads, but I was getting married - completing one of those assumed adult things a person does – one down and one to go. I could

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-42984402908008808742007-09-23T00:02:00.000-07:002007-09-23T00:25:45.860-07:00

As much as I lament your getting older – and so very quickly it seems – there are benefits to your getting older. Namely I get the chance to watch you grow into your personhood and I am everyday learning more about a very special person, one I have been longing to know, one whom I love despite my unknowing, one whom I love with an entirety that only God could fashion.You have grown out of your

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-11845300535860740952007-09-22T16:12:00.000-07:002007-09-22T16:21:45.410-07:00

I was busy researching new software for the kids, for school and for fun when I stumbled upon a great program Kidspiration, which also wonderfully had a 30 day trial version - so I downloaded it and began playing around with it -- the kids noticed, so together we built an outline about me and I modelled how the program was designed to help organize thoughts and ideas, for writing, for learning,

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-31906687.post-16433360025235489752007-09-17T12:28:00.000-07:002007-09-17T12:33:38.174-07:00

Another Vancouver outing with the kids -- I am amazed how easy it was to be in such a hugely populated place and yet feel so alone with my little gaggle of kids. They collected piles of shells, fingered seaweed, jumped over waves, and were chased ashore by the tide. I had a blast watching and taking pictures.

Queenheroicalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01212327407393341334noreply@blogger.com1