While I was arranging my advent center-piece
the dried black beans I soaked overnight boiled over.
(every so often I soak a bunch, then cook and freeze them)
It doesn't seem to matter how big a pot I use they will boil over
into a black mess on the stove!
It's just ridiculous how much foam they create!
So, as serene as the centerpiece appears, all by itself
it sits among the mess and hub-bub of life
and the smell of burnt bean-water in the burner😆
Reminded me of the drama of taking family-photos
which for us is not an annual event!
First there's the, 'what shall I WEAR?!!
To the 'you're not wearing That, are you?!
to Mom, does this look okay?
to 'how's my hair?'
to, mom's hesitant query to the nonchalant one; are you...ready???
and the not-hesitant 'yup'!.
SO much more than meets the eye goes into The Family Photo!
But. It . Happened.
Thanks to a nice November Sunday
and super photographer Brittany Ruppert
for all her amazing farm animal noises which kept
children and adults distracted/relaxed/laughing/smiling!
(the reason Victoria is just about dying of laughter on every photo)😂😂
A picture hides a thousand words
Behind its tidy guiles
Is so much more than seen or heard
In polished, paper smiles
A picture only snares a glimpse
We siphon from the mess
To capture from the chaos, glints
Of arranged happiness
Brant 'Johnny' dear, don’t cross your eyes
Quick, click the shutter please
Where, fingers crossed, we snare a prize
Midst disharmonic ‘c-h-e-e-e-se’
A photo (do not be deceived)
By that which visage meets/metes
For meek, sweet stance is oft achieved
Through threats or promised treats
Now everybody, one-two-three
Oh no! I laughed-blinked-sneezed
And ho, he thinks I didn’t see
What Mister Kissed-her squeezed
I’m thankful for the memento
Of precious photograph
I’m thankful that they only show
The quiet, composed half
I’m thankful for the keepsakes of
Seasons soon turned to Was
While time steals days but never love
In spite of all it does
I’m thankful for the sweet half-lie
In tidy, pretty pose
Of so much more than meets the eye
…unless you are a rose
I'm thankful for moments that smiled
Midst life's rough-tumble ways
As we capture for morrow's child
Snapshots of Good Old Days
© Janet Martin