MY POETRY

I've been in a bit of a "funk", if you will, lately. I recognize the signs and know when to let this "sadness" have it's way and when to move on. I'm nearing the "moving on" stage and it feels good. I did, however, put into words how I was feeling today. This is one of two poems that made way into my brain this morning. Sadness is a heavy thing - so read at your own risk. I'm putting it out there because it is what I need to do - for me - to move on - so I can smile - easily - again - soon.

Sadness

A sadness knocks upon my door
Blown in from some distant shore
Asking bravely to enter in
Seeking someone to befriend.

I don't want this "friendly" ghost
I don't want to be the host
To a feeling that's quite bold
One that leaves you feeling cold.

I attempt to close the door on him
Trying to ignore this pushy friend
And turn my sights to brighter things
Of promises that Joy can bring.

As I note the contrast of the two
As different as the dust is from the dew
The choice seems so crisp and clear
Of the one to draw near.

But joy lets sadness have it's turn
For she knows that she will spurn
His little tryst upon my heart
And in his place she will dart.

And thus I've come to realize
As I look thru saddened eyes
That joy is but a smile away
From her foe any given day.

So I focus as best I can
On joy's gifts, those at hand
And bid farewell to sadness here
And cling to joy's treasures dear.

Crickett

Sunshine and rain melting the snow . . . . . .

. . . . . . from the last few snow storms has . . . . . . . . . . . .

. . . . . . . . reduced me from this - a gorgeous gal, happy and round . . . . . . .

. . . . to this - just two twig arms, two cherry eyes and a carrot nose upon the ground!

"Happy Birthday, Jessie!"

It's hard to believe you are already 23 and have a little one of your own! I remember all too well when you were that age! I hope you had a wonderful day today.

I love you!
Aunt Crickett

My "Heirloom" Quilt

Heirloom according to Webster:

1. (n) a family possession handed down from generation to generation

2. (adj) being an old variety that is being cultivated again

One of my favorite things is to peruse antique stores. I am a wonderful window shopper! One of my favorite places to visit here in Hebron was a place called Cheryl's. The girls called it "the Blue Store" because of its vibrant (and I mean vibrant) blue color. They liked it because she had candy at the front and there was a shabby chic display in pinks and whites. Just for them it seemed. All pretty and some glittery.

One particular day I was in there by myself (rare). Some of the booths had been rearranged and the shabby chic section was moved across the "isle". As I'm sauntering along something caught my eye - something in the shabby display - just hanging there. It was a quilt and it seemed terribly familiar! Now, I generally don't shop fabric goods, especially quilts. They can be quite pricey. But I couldn't help myself with this familiar object. I walk up to it - it is sooo familiar. I pick it up, I turn it - I examine it - I can't believe it! There in my hands was my quilt! The second quilt I ever made in my life - I was not even 20 years old when I made it! How could this be? I call my sister, Donna, and asked "what should I do?". Cheryl wanted thirty dollars for it - a bargain for sure - and my sister wanted to know the condition of it - not so good - so. . . long story short - Donna suggested I not buy it. Oh, I was devastated, and - reluctantly agreed. After she hung up, she talked to Greg and he said I should get it, no matter the shape, it could become an heirloom. Donna called me back to re-advise me - but too late - my heart had made my mind up to get the thing - my quilt - my hard work.

I told Cheryl it was my quilt - this I knew for sure. How could I know for sure - the fabric - the aqua blue check and the brown stripe in particular. The check was from a dress I made in Jr. High Home Ec and the brown stripe was from a shirt my mom had made my brother when he was young. (mom made a lot of our clothes) I recognized other fabrics, but these two and the backing were the things that said "I'm your quilt!". As I explained these things to Cheryl, she was flabbergasted! (she wasn't alone here) What I didn't know was how she ended up with it. She said she had purchased it at an estate sale on Riverside Dr. in Fruitland. Now, my dad lived in Fruitland. We had a yard sale after he died to get rid of some of the stuff he had. Could my quilt have been an item sold at that yard sale? I will never know the answer to that question. but what I did know was - I was standing there with my quilt in my hands (that I had to pay thirty dollars for)!

Now since it is my quilt and I haven't passed it along yet, is it still an heirloom? To me it is, because I'm sure my mom helped me. It has pieces of her in it. We didn't do the traditional quilting because we didn't have a quilting frame, so I "tie knotted" it. That was another identification factor. The pattern is called "Grandmother's Flower Garden". Fitting isn't it?

I feel the quilt has come full circle - if objects can do that. It found it's way home and reminded me of simpler times - times with my mom and times I should create with my daughters and grand daughters. Of times I can't bring back but thru memories.

"Happy Birthday, Kristoffer!"

Happy Birthday, Little Man!

4 years old and quite handsome already!

We love you!

Love,

Aunt Crickett. Uncle Bob, Ben

Rease and Helena, too!

xoxoxoxo