Imagine the Possibilities

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

Outside…

I wake to a thin coating of ice blanketing cars and trees and yesterday morning’s snowfall.  Muffled bird calls disrupt the quiet stillness. The backyard reminds me of a Wyeth painting – a sea of whites and grays in a sepia world. Woodpeckers and chickadees vie for position at the bird feeder. Cyrus trots out, sticks his snout in the air. He detects new smells, then follows fresh tracks. Who’s been here?

I wonder.

Inside…

I’m surrounded by warm cuddles and coos and curious grins. I walk carefully among colorful blocks and pompoms. Cars and trucks honk and beep with the press of a button. I sit with books and read about a construction crew, Gerald learning to dance, and what animals in the forest like to eat (I have help with the page turns). I drink in that sweet smell of  baby. Or is that from the banana he just ate? Cyrus follows a trail of cheerios into the kitchen. Who’s been here?

No need to wonder…Alex is visiting.

I am participating in the March Slice of Life Story Challenge. Thanks to the co-authors of              Two Writing Teachers for creating this  supportive community.

Back for my 5th official year of slicing (I may have engaged in a year of lurking before jumping in). This morning as I scrolled through the posts it was so nice to see so many familiar faces as well as new ones. What a growing and supportive community we have!  Last year I made a conscious effort to let my stories find me, and I hope to continue with that this year. I love trying out new structures, too, and getting inspiration from everyone else. Looking forward to this special month! But what does this have to do with a flower shop, you say? Well…

A few days ago I had the opportunity to deliver books to a preschool in a town (actually a city) not far from where I live. Once a thriving industrial community. Once a stopping place along one of the first long-distance paved roads in Pennsylvania. Once a Native American settlement and fur trading post. Now it stands, like many small cities and towns across the country, with the ghosts of what was and what might have been.

Stopped at a red light, I looked out at vacant lots, run-down shops, and a lonely laundromat. But across the street stood a flower shop, its windows filled with vibrant blooms beckoning passersby to stop in for a visit. An oasis of color in a sea of gray. Just looking at the window bouquets of flowers and balloons made me smile and filled me with warmth.

The light changed, and I continued on…regrettably. I learned later that the family-owned shop has been operating for four generations. I will make it a point to return.

Happy slicing everyone!

I woke today to the sad news that a favorite poet of mine, Mary Oliver, passed away yesterday. I have several collections of her poetry and would often sit down to read just one poem. But quickly it became one more, then one more, then one more. Like potato chips, I just couldn’t seem to get enough.

Here is one of my favorite Mary Oliver poems:

Freshen the Flowers, She Said

So I put them in the sink, for the cool porcelain
was tender,
and took out the tattered and cut each stem
on a slant,
trimmed the black and raggy leaves, and set them all –
roses, delphiniums, daisies, iris, lilies,
and more whose names I don’t know, in bright new water –
gave them

a bounce upward at the end to let them take
their own choice of position, the wheels, the spurs,
the little sheds of the buds. It took, to do this,
perhaps fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes of music
with nothing playing.

Thank you, Mary, for your thoughtful musings and for showing me how to slow down and appreciate everything about my world.