Gaudy Weed

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The Poppy
BY JANE TAYLOR
High on a bright and sunny bed
A scarlet poppy grew
And up it held its staring head,
And thrust it full in view.

Yet no attention did it win,
By all these efforts made,
And less unwelcome had it been
In some retired shade.

Although within its scarlet breast
No sweet perfume was found,
It seemed to think itself the best
Of all the flowers round,

From this I may a hint obtain
And take great care indeed,
Lest I appear as pert and vain
As does this gaudy weed.

Burning Color

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“These too are of a burning color–not orange, not gold, but if pure gold were liquid and could raise a cream, that golden cream might be like the color of the poppies.”

― John Steinbeck

28 Minute Rose

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Today I realized I had 30 minutes until basketball practice, so I picked something I could paint fast, abstract the details.

Here is what it looked like at 28 minutes

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Two minutes left…I darkened the background, and changed the orientation.

Final Swing

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We have all been there…watching the sky turn darker and knowing that any moment the dinner bell will ring and we will have stop reaching our toes to the sky, soon to wash up and help put dinner on the table. Those final swings are often the best, you feel the wind in your hair and the chill in the air more on the swing or two after the bell.

For you it might be the last sunset of a trip to the beach, the last present under the tree, the last few drops of your mom’s perfume that has long stopped being manufactured, or holding someone’s hand as you wait for the final breath. We often experience some regret for loosing track of all the sunsets or moments before this last one. For years my husband worked on an oncology ward. He passed some of the many lessons he learned from his patients on to us. Most people don’t suffer on their death beds wishing they had worked more, or saying “so glad we skipped the hike in the woods with our small children to organize the garage.” He often punctuates a family outing, telling us someday something will separate all of us. Far from being dark or morbid, I have come to take these reminders like a snooze button on an alarm, allowing me to continue what I was doing with a new awareness that opens me to the gift. Perhaps if you are quiet, you can hear the dinner bell ring….

The Gift of a Perfect Afternoon

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We decided this year before Christmas to focus on giving each the gift of our presence to each other. We tried to slow down, and enjoy our time. I am grateful to my husband for creating many moments to do this. Sometimes the idea of packing another picnic made me groan, but it was ALWAYS worth it.

Here was a perfect afternoon, our schedule was full of nothing in particular. We visited one of our favorite parks to do nothing. there was no trail to conquer before dark, or sports game to watch or practice…just time to be. Be together. We strolled, played a little ping pong, we snuggled together under a blanket and read a book, snacked on an apple, and my favorite…people watched. I waited for the light to land on this reader, who was wearing a suit, had wonderful posture, and a beautiful head.