Coffeeshop Writers' Group - We're intruders into their forest / Two Poems: Sugar Water and My Upstairs Office

When I got home from the writing group, Nancy Myers, my across-the-street neighbor, came over with her camera.


While I was gone, two baby deer had come in from the tiny woods in our backyards, and were sipping on water from the birdbath! Nancy's daughter Linda will email me the photos.

Pretty in pink, Martha Hunter, read two wonderful stories about cats she's had. One story ended with something like, Thus ended the cat dynasty on Vincent Road.

An amazing thing happened to one of her cats, Mr Whisker, who had a habit of ambushing the Hunters and biting their ankles. Definitely not a nice cat, she wrote, but aloof and didn't like to be cuddled.

One day Mr Whisker passed away. As Marf's dad was pulling up the drive, a funeral was taking place. Mr Whisker's funeral. And who were the mourners? The neighborhood cats.

Truth. Stranger than fiction.

L

A beaming Linda Barrett shared another chapter of her sci-fi novel. In this imaginative tale on location in a future Philadelphia, individuals, who are 'hatched,' rathan born, surrender themselves to The Reapers when they are of age.

Of an age to die, so that others might live. In the story we visit Morgue, where piles of body parts, including livers, hearts, skin, ovaries, prostates, are waiting to be implanted in someone's body to keep them alive.

Since many of us were drinking coffee at the Giant, 'make mine iced decaf, Adryn,' lemme share this link about Coffee is healthy for you.

Found it on FB, as posted by psychiatrist Basem Schlewiet.

When I get my Giant decaf, I add cinnamon, nutmeg and cocoa to spice up the flavor. Never, my lord, do I drink their lattes or their chai's. Or, for godsakes, add cream to the darn thing.

Who needs a bigger belly than they already have? 

All the better to stick your needle into.

Beatriz Moisset, orig from Argentina (just try to read her FB comments in Spanish), was contacted by an associate editor at Scientific American.

Ferris Jabr had a mission. He recently moved from NYC to Brooklyn and wanted to know what pollinators he should plant.

One of these photos is Ferris Jabr, but you've gotta figure it out yourself.

He went on Google and the first thing that popped up was Beatriz's blog!

He contacts her and says he wants to i'view her for the next issue of Scientific American.

She calls a couple friends who advise her: Get the questions in advance and have a 'prepared statement' to leave the readers with.

She does very well during the 20-minute interview and we're excited to read it!

Here are excerpts from today's essay: LAWN FOR POLLINATORS, GRASS COMPANIONS

If we want to make our lawns more nature-friendly, we need to start by readjusting our notions of aesthetics.

A perfectly manicured lawn that looks like an indoor green carpet needs not be the only ideal of lawn beauty. On the other hand, a lawn rich in biodiversity is more ecologically sound than the sterile monotonous ones that passes for lawn nowadays.

We can learn to appreciate the natural beauty of a field rich in a variety of low-growing plants including broad-leaved "weeds." In fact, let us remove the negative connotations of this word by calling them "grass companions" instead. (BRILLIANT!)

Numerous little flowering plants grow in lawns completely uninvited. Too bad that we are so determined to get rid of them! We could start welcoming some of them. This is Nature's way to restore balance to the ecosystem.... Ideally, a pollinator-friendly lawn would have only non-invasive lawn flowers, preferably native ones.

I see no harm in tolerating some non-invasive flowering plants in the mix.

Some of my favorite grass companions, such as violets,

bluets and spring beauties 

do well only where foot traffic is minimal, or where mowings are less frequent.

 Marf had gifted all of us with meaningful items. Beatriz said she would put a backing on mine, which she did. It is now hanging on the wall of mine own Barnes Museum.

 The reason you can't see it is b/c it just fell behind the couch. I'll fish it out later but wanna finish blogging by 8 pm when The Thomas Crown Affair is on Channel 12.

OMG! I actually got panicked b/c I saw there was blank white paper below here.

Here's newcomer Emma, who really fixed up her last piece, which she's titled "Different Shades of Mental."

Since she's returning to college in less than a month, we urged her to complete it before she leaves. It's quite good.

SUGAR WATER

I was indoors all day

by the whirring fan

working on a grant,

a cup of tea

my only companion

Nothing existed but

words on the computer screen

“Justify the need”

“How is your nonprofit different

than all others”

“What will you use the money for?”

Deadline so close I couldn’t

make silent jokes or cuss the

million-dollar-foundations for

making it so damn hard

I looked out the window

in my tiny upstairs office

the green leaves on my silver maple

were soaking up the July light

sedate

unexited

filled with joy

I cannot be with you now

I whispered turning back to

the screen

The phone rang downstairs.

My accountant.

Hello, Larry, I said when I saw

his name.

I was in a daze

needing to change the

gauge in my brain

to “speech”

rather than

“write.”

I understood not a word he said

as I walked barefoot across the

soft living room carpet

to the front window

“Oh my God, Larry,” I said.

“They’re here.

They’ve finally come.

The hummingbirds.”

I watched as not one

but two of them

took sustenance

from the sugar water

we placed for them

months ago

We don’t get the colorful

ones like on television

we get the brown ones

tiny brown creatures

bumblebees, if you

didn’t know any better,

suspended by wings

you can’t even see

but just believe in

Stay, little birds, stay

I whispered,

but they were

already gone,

flying away

the moment

they arrived.   

MY UPSTAIRS OFFICE

Someone painted it yellow

my boys’s former blue bedroom

I painted the file cabinet pink

A Mickey Mouse cup from my

in-laws holds the pens that are

scattered across the desk,

which really isn’t,

merely a slab of formica

stretched across

two plastic file cases

not in use

Three bulletin boards

hold pretty pictures

a Karl Rickels book mark

a thank-you from Iris Innes

a calendar picture by

WilliamH Johnson of a

coy man in red shirt

I’ll recognize when he comes by.

An expensive chair from my

late Aunt Ethel holds papers

and beside that

a Bible, dictionary, photo album

and Gaudi’s La Pedrera

no use to anyone

on a small white table

I picked from the trash

When I enter the room

I see nothing.

Watch the floor

so I don’t step on

peanuts or stink bugs

then settle at my desk

scratch my forehead

and press go.

*

 Beatriz mentioned the deer eat the hasta.

I wish they would. They're crowding the front door.

These are pollinated by bumble bees, among others.

This jungle in my front yard used to be an attractive garden until these tall invasive weeds crawled like the Panzers and destroyed everything.

Okay, 20 minutes left before Thomas Crown. Read about Steve McQueen's death at age 50 from an incurable cancer.

Oy! I always like to finish the post on a happy note.

Well, I had a good visit with Mom today and got a baggie full of free broccoli. I brought her and Ellen assorted olives I bought at the Giant.