Monthly Archives: December 2018

Wild Like the Fairies

I saw this quote/image this week on Facebook and shared it. So many were taken with it that I decided to reproduce it here.

The artist Florence Harrison (1877–1955) “was an Art Nouveau and Pre-Raphaelite illustrator of poetry and children’s books. Many of her books were published by Blackie and Sons. She illustrated books by notable Pre-Raphaelite circle poets Christina Rosetti, William Morris, and Sir Alfred Tennyson.” (from Wikipedia)

Jonny Ox is a writer/folk musician who creates “Artistic musings for poetic hearts, playful minds, and deep souls.” (from his Facebook page)

I love it when art and poetry from across time merge into something so relatable.

— SK

Elfin Song, Florence Harrison, 1912_edited-1

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And A Girl Led Them

These children are rising up because they see we are not!

Let’s change this. Let’s make a vow to do more – NOW. Let’s make a plan to go to our city councils and demand change. We could turn this around quickly if every city got on board in regard to climate change!

Let’s find out what we can do and just damn ROLL UP OUR SLEEVES AND DO IT.

Greta Thunberg is doing it. We can too.

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Salvage Cooking

Vichyssoise in Ankara, Turkey.jpg

“Vichyssoise at Home” by E4024, via Wikimedia Commons.

 

It’s that time of year again, soup time. This poem, by a brand new contributor (thank you, Scudder!), is about the magic a gardener/cook can create — with only a few of the season’s last offerings and a little imagination.
— SK

Salvage Cooking

Too many leeks this year.
A dozen locked in four inches
of frozen, mounded soil, one bin
stacked full in the refrigerator.
And kale stalks like palms
after the hurricane, offering
their small limp fronds before
succumbing to the final freeze.

“Delicious!” is all I can think.
Chicken bones accumulated
in the freezer. Wilted greens
hiding in the other bin. Onions
that won’t make it through
the month—all crying “broth!”
Then add potatoes (with the skin)
throw celery and carrots in.

It is to vichyssoise what
slam poetry is to rhyming
greeting cards. You have to
drink it hot, soak your coarse
bread crust. It’s full of things
that were all but lost,
so ordinary, damaged,
that they seem to have no cost.

* * *

Scudder Parker grew up on a family farm in North Danville, Vermont.  He’s been a Protestant minister, state senator, utility regulator, candidate for Governor, consultant on energy efficiency and renewable energy, and is settling into his ongoing work as a poet. He’s a passionate gardener and proud grandfather of four.  He and his wife live in Middlesex, Vermont.  Scudder has published in Sun Magazine, Vermont Life, Northern Woodlands, Wordrunner, Passager, Eclectica, Twyckenham, Ponder Review, and Crosswinds.

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Waking Up, Smelling the Smoke, and Making a Vow!

Right now, I hope you’ll join me in making a vow for 2019:

THIS IS THE YEAR WE SAID “NO MORE.”

No more tolerance of climate change denial.

No more allowing our media and our elected officials to ignore the problems and run from solutions.

No more running away from hard work – we MUST get INVOLVED. Everyone can do SOMETHING. Very little bit matters and it all adds up!

No more silence. We must say something, we must speak out, EVERY SINGLE DAY.

No more protecting those who have brought this on through lies and deceit.

No more standing still.

It’s time to get MOVING.
The world depends on it.

We have a lot to be grateful for in this beautiful world and we can heal it. I know it.

But we have to start now.

 

 

 

Ladybug, Ladybug Fly Away Home 

Ladybug!  Ladybug!
Fly away home.
Your house is on fire.
And your children all gone.

***

That last line is up to us, and only us, to change.

— SK

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