Coffeeshop Writers Group Hier - My Garden and Sunflowers - Poem: Who Am I?

First, we're gonna take a stroll thru my front garden.

 You can barely see Mr Punkin peeking out.

 Neighbor Patrick went to the other side and bought himself a riding mower, the first, I believe on our street.

 My blooming wheelbarrow. Zinnas and gerbera daisy.

 My million-dollar sculpture which is doing well in its third year.

Crepe myrtle have finally bloomed. The icy winter fooled us and we thought it was dead. Patience, said the guy at Russell Gardens, and sure enough

Cosmos, planted from seeds, and Milkweed, which shucked off its aphids and is waiting for the Monarchs come fall.

This is the first time in 58 years I've planted flowers with seeds. Had no choice. Was given some seeds at the Meet Your Funders program.

For years I'd see SUNFLOWERS growing in people's yards. Never thought I could be a person who could grow sunflowers.

Raise your self-esteem, Ruthie, about growing sunflowers. There they are. The two blossoms bloomed today.

COFFEESHOP WRITERS GROUP met at 3 pm. I'd suggested this cuz I went to Grace Catherine's fourth b'day party.


Grace is a nature lover. On the grass was something that looked like this. It was not a pine cone.

"The squirrels were eating it," she said.

"How dyou know?" I asked.

"You can see the teeth marks," she said.

PLUS they actually took my advice and went to the Bucks County Grange Fair Today. Found out on the tell-all FB.

Met at Beatriz's townhouse as she's feeling weak from chemo.

She wrote one of her great pollinator pieces: The Mason Wasp and the Caterpillar.



When you put that phrase into the search engine, guess what comes up? Yep, Beatriz's photo.

Look, you'll do anything to feed your kids, right? So the Mason Wasp stings and paralyzes a caterpillar and brings it to her nest. It stays nice and fresh so the wasp can feed her darling little babies.

Our new guy, Floyd B Johnson, was fascinated by the story. We found him from Lauren Steele of Pennypack, her companion. They met on GreenSingles.com.

Don't confuse it with GreenShingles.com, for people who get that horrible post-chicken-pox condition.

Floyd is retired as plant manager at a water treatment plant in Washington DC. He's a great storyteller! We were talking about the 'racket' of buying bottled water. He told us there's more testing of tap water than of bottled water.

Tap water is very clean.

Floyd is co-editor of the Ecoletter. 

Floyd made very perceptive comments.

I mentioned that Scott n I make pizza on Sunday night and he said he and Lauren have it on Wednesdays!

In fact, we just ate. I was watching another exciting episode of Lost, so I ate while watching.

Then I ran home to blog. Was too exhausted last nite.

Carly's butterfly ring matches the butterflies on the wall. You should see all of Beatriz's nature books; some are huge picture books. Sitting from there was a book on Monarchs.

Carly wrote an essay about the use of language... words, verbs, the alphabet. Since she's begun writing she's become fascinated with the history of words.

Her favorite word is PACKAGE.

Not the meaning of it, but just pronouncing it. Package.

Is it fair to ask you, Dear Reader, to avert your eyes for a moment, and think of your favorite word.

My daughter Sarah just wrote on FB that her favorite word is GRANGE. She and wedding guests to the Eugene, OR wedding of her first cousin Natalie Pomper to Dion went to the Grange and heard some fiddlers.



Look! My little darling is lying in her uncle's hammock - that's Rich Pomper, father of the bride - and she just saw a hawk.

Wedding starts late - 9 pm? - and Sarah will officiate. Four-hour time difference.

Linda arrived late, as she had to work. She presented updates on two poems - August Notebook and one with the refrain that Jesus Never Lets You Down.

Linda is drinking a smoothie. Carly brought her blender and the frozen ingredients - mango, strawberries, kale and raspberries - for her delicious drink.

We all sat at the dining room table. Painting on the wall was done by B's friend Margarethe Brummermann.

The painting below was done by Beatriz.

Would I could fly away to this villa.

I spent hours and hours writing my new short story The Obituary Writer. Got the idea from a client of mine.

Did extensive Internet research for the story, which features Niali Beach in Kenya

I went on websites for hotels in Kenya and two days later, today, I get emails from uGuest. Fortunately it was easy to unsubscribe.

After Part One of my story, I had no idea what to write next. I forced myself to sit there and thiMk. (This is an old IBM joke, you're too young to remember.)

So the more I write, the more research I've gotta do. I'm sitting upstairs exhausted, everything's a blur on the computer, but I press on.

Finally I can't stand it anymore and fall into bed, promising myself I'd finish the story in the morning.

First, tho, I re-read it in bed.

It stunk!

So now my assignment was to re-write the first page and then type the ending. I had thought of it before leaving the typewriter.

The temptation is still strong to delete the whole thing.

Here's a poem which was inspired by the TV show  "Lost," which I love and am watching on Netflix.

WHO AM I ?

I am everything I’ve ever eaten

Newly, I am salads with

home-grown tomatoes and basil

An assortment of unsalted nuts

line the small flabs of my

upper arms

The green pistachios

I chomp on while watching Netflix

may have transformed into my

toes or perhaps are part of the

major organs sloshing in food-

made pouches within like the

marvelous pericardium ‘round

my forever beating heart

Mounds Bars, Reese’s Peanut

Butter Cups, Chocolate Milk and

mashed potatoes with gravy

cafeteria-bought in junior high

helped me grow to four foot eleven

don’t forget the half

as I strutted the halls in my

RZG monogrammed blouse

and matching skirt from Majestic

Cells upon cells metamorphose

like tall Lego towers

into a music-loving woman

who, unlike schoolmate Judy Ginsburg,

has a sense of rhythm.

Especially when she chews.

Closing her eyes she tastes the

fine sweetness of the cashew

as it leaves my mouth to

continue watery odyssey

through my body.

The Almighty, in its wisdom,

swishes the food and the drinks

and the pills she takes into the

bloodstream, where, like Huck Finn

on his raft, they swim downstream

to keep their Almighty – Ruthie - a-growing

and alive.