Thursday, May 9, 2013

Ada and Rich for dinner / Lilac Poem

Today's the day I'm gonna write my 700-word story on May is Mental Health Awareness Month for the Intell. As a procrastinatory maneuver, I wrote a poem about the Lilac.

I've gotta hurry b/c I'm going to a free movie at my library called Moneyball with Brad Pitt. I know zero about it, but I can always leave if it's no good. PS - I'd already seen it, so I left after 7 minutes.

We had a magnificent dinner at 5 pm, so Scott could join us.


Debbie, the fishmonger, suggested I buy 5 per person, and she was right. I cooked it with peppers, onions, mushrooms, fresh thyme and basil from the garden, Riesling wine, fresh lime juice and served it over a bed of Barillo whole wheat spaghetti.

We also had roasted asparagus, generously rolled in olive oil - oh, the asparagus just loved that - 450 in the oven - when done I sprinkled it with Parm cheese.

They even enjoyed going down our gullets, their purpose in life.

Scott is opening the Trader Joe's ice cream brought by the Fleishers.


I had two bowls of the coffee ice cream and vanilla ice cream.

As a person with diabetes, I biked after they left for 20 minutes. In the morning my sugar level was normal.

We had such great conversations! The importance of a colonoscopy, great teachers, a good nite's sleep. Rich falls asleep listening to audio tapes. I usually read myself to sleep until I hear myself snoring or the book drops onto my chest.

Scott and I gave the Fleishers a tour of our garden, which is doing very well. We had lovely rains off n on yesterday, so we don't have to water OR clean the two bird baths.

Scott is really serious about growing our crops: hot peppers, green peppers, brussels sprouts, beefsteak tomatoes, cherry tomatoes and cucumbers. I still wanna grow some watermelon and pumpkin. We planted early but have faith it won't freeze.

Am sitting here on my red couch with the screen door letting in the huge racket of the birds.

Mating season.

This little bird here was sitting atop my railing. His chest was puffed up as he trilled incessantly. Once when I was psychotic, I could understand what the birds were saying.

He's on the topmost rail. I really wish I could hold this darling little fellow in my hand, but not really. He and another tiny bird - chickadees, I think - are chasing one another across my driveway. I hope they'll live in one of my birdhouses out front.


The Creator
fell sick with exhaustion,
reclining on her golden divan
she blew bubbles through
pursed mouth
swarms encircled her
purple as the firmament
to her surprise – and yes, Creators
have feelings - each bubble became a bud
flooded with her sweet breath
this is the Creation Myth of
the high-born lilac.

Another Creator, Walt Whitman
awakened the world to its
ephemeral beauty
“Look at me
Inhale me
Adore me
Have your coffee and croissant
my branches
and remember
Life is fleeting
and terribly


  1. "Ephemeral beauty" ... heart-stopping/heart-breaking.
    Lilacs are just magical.
    Thanks for writing this, Ruth!

  2. hey cathy! thanks for stopping by. we're both nature lovers extraordinaire. thother day, i took in my neighbor's garbage cans. i wrote him on facebook: as a reward for doing that, i helped myself to a stalk of his lily of the valley. "Deal," he wrote back.