Probably Discombobulated Symbolism

Inside the poet is a fire and, depending on where a spark may land, comes the light of an unexpected gift. A silent void anyone can reach differently.

Listening to this song today. John Prine. Just a great songwriter. Thinking about the core values of the words. And “little pictures have big ears” and, what exactly the “gold”is ,today, that might soothe a person. And my grandchildren – being raised with ‘first hand’ values rather than ‘ second hand’ ones no longer relevant for their times.

And I just don’t know. So much shit happening, in our country, the last two week. It’s scary. Yesterday, I helped my grandkids out the pool and bundled them in towels and held them close and thought how difficult the future would be for them and hoped for something better than today.

But I don’t feel hopeful that living in a world – like today’s – will be better for them…

So there –

Ellespeth ❤️

Geez Louise

Santa Clara County, CA  Lockdown Day #47 (My Gawd!)

If I’ve read correctly, we are now locked down until the end of May.  Himself is 77.  I am almost 70.

Me:  I want to go to the grocery and pick out my own produce and stuff.

Himself:  Nope.

Me:  We have friggin masks now.  We could make just a short grocery run.

Himself:  Nope.

Me:  Pffft.  Whatever.

I can’t do anything outside of this condo except walk around the block and almost get killed by a kid on a scooter and I have an ass for a President.

I’m so fortunate, though.  I mean I don’t wanna go straight to hell for complaining about being under almost house arrest.  I know I’m fortunate, dammit.  I just feel like I’m losing control over my life.  I thought, you know, that I knew enough about life to accept being confined for my own good.  Well, ladies and gentlemen, I was wrong.

I just love how Joni Mitchell’s voice has mellowed as she’s aged.  Beautiful.


Ellespeth ♥

To the Thawing Wind

My favorite catalogue arrived in the mail today.  This beautiful poem was printed on the inside cover.  Ohh!!  Yes!!!


Robert Frost


Robert Frost

    Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.

‘Speak Softly & Carry A Big Stick’

As some of you know, for the past several years I’ve been recovering from a series of bone fractures. Four years healing, now, from my original fall.

So…you may also know that I use a big walking stick. It’s nothing that I want to use, but something I promised my husband I would and so I do.

I was using it, yesterday, while attending one of my many medical appointments – that every day stuff I don’t put here… anyways, I was using it then when I over heard the following conversation:

The Waiting Room  After Kavanaugh/Ford Hearings

An elderly male patient, his caregiver, myself, my friend, and others were seated in the waiting room of a medical office.

The elderly male patient checks himself in and takes a seat next to his caregiver and promptly says: I want to talk about what’s been happening in the news this week about this Kavanaugh thing.

The caregiver says to the elderly patient: I just want you to know that we had easy peasy girls like that in my high school, too. (More public locker room talk, I suppose?  Thanks, Pres. Trump.)

My friend, myself and another woman look at each other and raise our eyebrows and roll our eyes.

OMG! I clutched my cane and was only held back by the memory of my first husband’s voice – after I’d shot the bird out of the car window at some idiot driver – telling me he would not come to claim my body if I were to be killed shooting the bird.

So…when I left the room, I went out of my way to avoid the caretaker.

But 😛  I forgot my cane in the doctor’s exam room and had to return for it. Then I did pass by that caretaker. He didn’t move his feet out of the way so I or anyone else could pass. I smiled at him, slightly lifted my cane, and placed it on the floor on the other side of his feet.  Ever so sweetly, of course, though I did feel goaded.

Just hours before, I’d been hoping that the Ford/Kavanaugh hearings would open the way for teenagers to talk with their parents more about what doesn’t have to be a right of passage into adulthood.

I still hope for this.  And I believe, if one is being vetted for the highest court in our land, one’s past actions – and how one speaks to them – would matter.