It Gets Me Every Time

 

Although officially it is still summer, 

the end of August often has an 'End of Summer' feel!

This is the time of year when neither days or nights are quite long enough!

As Granddaughter helped me in the kitchen a few days ago

I had a profound sense of 'olden' days renewed; 

she is such a mix of all three of our daughters!

The way that seasons sweep across the countryside with ease

A burst of song released to steep and toss the tress of trees

A lovely leaf and flower happiness enhancing earth

Until life’s brief encounter yields to death, conceived at birth

It gets me every time; each sweet and fleeting season-span

Portraying in its lilt and chime the numbered days of man

The way the bud-loom brims, dazzles and dims; show-stoppers bow

Beneath weaning rhythms and winds that always stun, somehow

Though green of youth has always yielded to the woo of years

(The weathered stance of truth unshaken by century-peers)

It gets me every time; the way moment-silk spins and weaves

Bygone’s gossamer clime with all love celebrates and grieves

The way what may seem small becomes the measure of a life

The way the writing on the wall is always running rife

Where endings and beginnings meld one season to the next

A treasure briefly held then felled; love, gladly, sadly vexed

It gets me every time; the way footfalls compose a song

The tempo of its pantomime, so-long, so-long, so-long

© Janet Martin

Eccles.12:1

Remember now your Creator in the days of your youth,

 Before the difficult days come, 

And the years draw near when you say,

 “I have no pleasure in them”:

Of Life's Sacred and Surreal

today's post,  a first...

 ...sharing, with special permission from my youngest daughter,

an excerpt from her very precious Christmas gift to me last year,

a collection of her poetry and journal snippets,

 glimpses of heart-pieces like only ink allows...

It's been a little while since we were both in our respective corners of the morning

but today is a perfect reflection of this...

Wow! yup...poetry plunked, plucked, pried and prayed from the schmozzle of living...

often with reminders, no matter what season we are in...to Cherish!

because seasons are so brief, each with a beauty of their own!

Whatever season we are in no matter when or where

Time seems to slip through our skin in whispers thin as air

And suddenly we turn to see what once seemed long and slow

Now, pictures in a gallery where echoes ebb and flow

Nobody, no matter how strong can keep the tide at bay

That runs through us like sea-song as it washes years away

As generations roll like soul-filled waves that rise and fall

Prey to the subtle season toll that no shoreline can stall

…reminding us that no matter what season we are in

Time's echo-chimes soon scatter like thistle seeds on the wind

While we learn to savour the full flavour of moment crumbs

Before they slip forever to what each season becomes

...before the Giver of each life retrieves what seasons lease

As a momentous Shuttle weaves the ilk of Time's increase

Still slipping through our fingers soft as silk yet hard a steel 

Leaving a sense that lingers, of life's sacred and surreal

© Janet Martin

The same feeling that inspires many a poem and song

like this one...

Slipping through my Fingers 

By humility and the fear of the Lord

are riches and honour and life

Prov.22:4

Of Arms and Hearts (or, They Grow So Fast)

 It feels like we just did this but we did it again...celebrate granddaughter's birthday!!

They grow so fast we sigh, as seasons fly through arms and hearts

Where none can tame the twinkle in time’s eye or change its ways

The child soon tries its wings, tugging on strings that love imparts

While teaching us to treasure the fleet measure of Todays

For time is never idle; none can tame or bridle clocks

Childhood’s tower of make-believe soon tumbled by hard knocks

They grow so fast we cry, while milestones make us laugh and weep

Robbing us of ready reply when we try to explain

Love’s gladness that runs rife with sorrow for what none can keep

Where each wee babe soon tests the play of love’s parental rein

The brief heaven of innocence soon startled by a Voice

As the gavel of consequence falls on the heels of Choice

They grow so fast we say, and pray the Lord their souls to guard

With angel armies, for this world is full of deadly snares

Where soon our arms are lowered and the garden gate unbarred

And off they go; but never out of reach of tender prayers

Or the eternal cradle-dear, that no child can outgrow

The heart that keeps them near no matter where their feet may go

© Janet Martin 

Grand-daughter's 'prince' freeing the princess...

Found the sweet poem above in this book!

Caught in the Quick

Ready or not it's winter in our neck of the woods!

Do you ever feel like the seasons kinda drift by like floats in a phantom parade?

And what can we do but smile, applaud their beauty as they pause/pass

then wave farewell and focus on the next one?!

Enjoy⛄❄!

Caught in the quick of days of grass

The seasons flare and fade

With worlds that wow us as they pass

Like floats in a parade

Caught in the quick of tick and tock

Bygone’s coffer accrues

Withered petals of hollyhock

And heaps of outgrown shoes

Caught in the quick of here and now

How subtle is the surge

Of teeming tides that ebb and flow

Where past and future merge

Caught in the quick of dawn to dawn

And faces/places cupped and kissed

Before they slip through fingers, gone

Like hurricanes of mist

Caught in the quick of dust to dust

We grapple with time’s toll

Like spectacles that we adjust

On noses of the soul

© Janet Martin

To everything there is a season, A time for every purpose under heaven:

Eccles.3:1

A little photo parade of flashbacks💖

The Gift of Here and Now

 

How swift Here-and Now's moment-spheres

Augment the tent of yesteryears...

Yesterday I collected autumn colours for lunch (rainbow Swiss Chard)...

and air-fried beets with feta cheese (5-star meal!)

...and marigolds, dried for tea!

One large bowl of flowers when dried

fit into this jar!

What is can never stay; hello soon farewell kissed

The golden summer day soon drawn away on autumn mist

The garden green and young soon gleaned of harvest fare

The boldness of the silver tongue soon wizened by life’s care

To everything a time; this clime where seasons flow

A little like a pantomime of hold and letting go

A little like a page where ballerinas twirl

Like autumn leaves across a stage that steals the little girl

What is soon disappears, a joy and sorrow spree

Bittersweet fleet of smiles and tears that sparkle out to sea

Duty and beauty’s sands like treasures from a trove

That sparkle through our hearts and hands all for the sake of love

So then, because of how swift seasons rise and fall

Let’s use the gift of here and now to its full potential

To do the best we can to shoulder what we ought

For the welfare of fellowman and the glory of God

© Janet Martin

A last-minute invitation to Daughter and children made the meal ever-so-much-more memorable!

Granddaughter decided to bring alpha-getti when she heard what was on the menu😂

Baby just cooed and smiled (between gramma-cuddles, naturally!)

Dear Granddaughter...here's to a whole winter-long of tea-parties!

(And Grandsonny too, but he prefers stirring it to drinking it😍)

We've dubbed this blend (fresh mint, lavender and marigold)

 Azerbaijan Tea thanks to all the varieties showcased on Country Life Vlog

Phil.4:8

Finally, brothers and sisters, 

whatever is true, 

whatever is noble, 

whatever is right, 

whatever is pure, 

whatever is lovely, 

whatever is admirable—

if anything is excellent or praiseworthy

—think about such things.

The Grass Withers

The grass withers, the flower fades,

But the word of our God stands forever.”

Isa.40:8

This verse inspired today's poem,

started at 7:00 a.m.

Why is it not getting posted till after 6:00 p.m.?

Well, before I was quite finished with it tot # 1 arrived

and was delighted to help with some chores 

connected with yesterday's garden-purge!

First job. Prep Swiss chard for freezing.

I cut off the leaves and he put the stalks in a pail...

Then tot # 2 arrived excited to peel beets!

Tot #1 politely declined to help with this very purple task😅

Victoria is taking roasted veg to a supper potluck.

When I looked for the pan, I remembered it's in the oven with a batch of granola

I put in along with lunch prep! 😅😐

In the spring I was the happy recipient of an air fryer

won at a stag and doe!

Today I used it for the first time, to cook our lunch! 

fries and chicken fingers for tots then squash for my lunch!

and I am in the process

of trying to give it a permanent home on my already full countertop...

because the squash was PERFECT with 2 tsp. of olive oil

and seasoning and a drizzle of maple syrup!

Can't wait to try all the recipes in the book! Next? Cabbage steak!

...back to the potluck!

The girl who was going to bring pie for dessert isn't feeling well

so suddenly in the midst of veg-eruption...pie!

now the tots have gone home

after some baby grandson cuddles, of course!!

Potluck food is on its way.

(insert chamber music lol!)

This evening I will pickle the beets...

and chop and stir-fry the Swiss chard to freeze for soups etc.

make a quick batch of tomato soup with the last of the tomatoes

oh! Yes, there was a poem on the back burner!

Now, do you understand the delay?!

The grass, it withers

The flowers, they fade...

The wind, it winnows

The tree of its shade...

The grass, it withers

The flowers, they fade

The wind, it winnows

The tree of its shade

The garden is quiet

Its rush hour through

Where once a riot

Of seed splendor grew

The orchard’s glimmer

Of garnet and gold

Wanes before winter

Turns corridors cold

Before the hustle

Of gales sweeps its halls

Where footsteps rustle

Where leaf-lyric falls

Where children frolic

And chatter and play

Before time’s music

Draws childhood away

Before they weather

The surge of a sea

Light as a feather

Yet wild as can be

The golden luster

Of leaf ambience

Pales in the bluster

That blows out its lamps

Leaving the streets of

Autumn softly strewn

With remnant glints of

Summer’s afternoon

© Janet Martin