From Scott Owens' Book Of Days

In Scott Owens' Book of Days, he produces images I see around me this month.

November Never Speaks of Itself

gathers wood, kills the boar
lets December say what cold
the winter holds, whispers only
silver flashes in the spring,
cleaning away what green still
clings to rock or limb.
November sits smirking, indifferent,
watching each displeasure
like something not a part of its own,
watching everything washing
out to gray, every bit of color
giving way to December’s coming on.
November never speaks of itself,
makes use of all that autumn brings it,
tamps down leaves beneath quiet
rains, hushes what sings, sends birds’
black streaming across the sky,
let every night grow longer.

I like this poem and, especially this November, it speaks to me.
      

Friends Become Family

Today was a glorious day here in the mountains of North Carolina. Temps were perfect for any outdoor activity whether it be Punkin Chunkin in Hayesville, or painting the long steps up to my house. My dear friends, Wanda and Jeff drove up from Atlanta and went to work like busy beavers scraping and priming before heading to Home Depot and buying supplies to begin painting.

Spencer, their big beautiful black lab spent the day with our Rocky and both were worn out before the family left, after dark, to travel south toward home.
We did have time to  reminesce about the fun the four of us used to have on our deck, enjoying our view, which was especially fantastic today with the pink streaks across the lake as the sun dropped into the west.

We met Wanda and Jeff in our little church years ago.They say Barry was the reason they came back each Sunday. I hear that remark often. Betty and Jerry B. said that to me just last week. Another couple said they joined  that church because of the friendly welcome they always received from Barry who made a point of greeting each newcomer and remembering them each time they came back. He and I invited visitors to join us for lunch after the service and became better acquainted over a meal at one of our local restaurants. The genuine warmth Barry exuded drew others to him and we all were blessed.

Often it is the simple things we do that make a big difference in the lives of others. Sometimes we don't even know the importance of these simple acts. Jeff has become a leader in the church where he now lives. He teaches as part of a jail ministry that he thoroughly enjoys.

Barry was deeply touched when Jeff and Wanda honored him at Relay for Life.

Jeff spoke at Barry's memorial service with heartfelt emotion about the impact knowing Barry had on his life.
Barry loved Jeff and Wanda, and so do I. They have been more than friends to me. They are family.

Thanks Valoree, my friend the photographer

I want to thank my friend, Valoree Luhr, who did such a fine job making me look good in my profile photo on the back of Now Might As Well Be Then. Valoree's name along with Mary Michelle Keller's name is posted on the Acknowledgements page.

In another post I'll show you some of Valoree's work and how she can make an old photo look fantastic.

Now Might As Well Be Then is Reviewed by Joan L. Cannon

My deepest appreciation to Joan L. Cannon for her review of my poetry book,
Now Might as Well be Then.
Please click and read here.

Joan is the author of two novels, Settling and Maiden Run. She is a regular contributor for http://www.seniorwomen.com/.  

FALL ON MY SIDE OF THE MOUNTAIN IS SOFT AND SAFE

Cleaning out, decluttering, and knowing what to save

Have you ever felt that the harder you try, the worse it gets? Well that has been my day. It started with phone calls before I was out of bed. Actually it started last night when I couldn't understand why Brothers and Sisters was on at 11:30 P.M. You see, Barry always changed the clocks and I never had to  think about the time change twice a year. He made it easy for me. He gave me a watch that automatically resets when Daylight Savings Time begins and when it ends. I looked at my watch last night and saw that it was 10:30, but my kitchen clock said 11:30. For a brief span I thought I had crossed over into the twilight zone. Eerie feeling to be lost even for a few seconds in a time warp.
Aha, the light bulb went on over my head, and I remembered that Daylight Savings Time ended Sunday. It would have been the closing for the summer   part time job Barry held for a number of years at Chatuge Shores Golf Club. He was on hiatus from November until spring when the golfers hit the links again. Would anyone like to have about 10 size XL Chatuge Shores Gold shirts? I think he would want them worn by golfers. He was a serious golfer and these shirts deserve a serious golfer.

Having been inside all day pulling out memories and discarding the ones I can live without, I had withdrawn from the present and slipped back to happy times we shared many years ago. Now, with a lifetime of stuff - stuff worth nothing to anyone but me - scattered all over the floor downstairs and upstairs, I have made more clutter to deal with in the coming weeks.

But I have one thing I'm proud to show. My linen closet has been purged of all those old towels, some at least thirty years old. I know the puppies and kitties at the Humane Shelter will enjoy nice clean towels. Perhaps an abandoned poodle will be impressed with GBC monogramed on her set.

Among the boxes of slides Barry made back in the sixties and seventies, I found this one of me. Today I began loading some of those old pictures on my computer in hopes of making DVD or CD for all my family.

Every photo has a story lurking there, maybe in the space between Stan and Salita. Maybe the story is in Stan's quirky smile. He always found his own silent joke and often laughed when the rest of us had not seen or heard the ha-ha.

To write about them and the story I imagine was there, I must know the place, the ocassion and what might be happening. Looking at the drapes on the wall behind them I know the locale was my parents' home in Albany. The reason the family was gathered was likely a holiday. Looking at the clothes worn by both people, I think it is summer or possibley early spring - Easter, perhaps?

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Two Poems Posted on Above the Frost Line

Nancy Simpson posted two of my poems on her site on the day of my birthday, October 22. Drop by Above the Frost Line to read them.
Thanks to Nancy, my mentor and my friend.