Sunday, May 27, 2018

Trip to Hudson River Valley - Storm King Photos and Dia Museum - Many poems - Rain - Coffee, please with no room for cream - Nuffin to Do All Day - Philip in the Blue Sweater - CVS - Wanted: Free Home - Driving Home (Chevy Cruze) -

 Netflix show called Saved. 
Yes! The poppy plant has come up.

 Thanks, Sarah, for the lovely wallet from Bloomingdale's.

 Dia Museum.... a Richard Serra metal sculpture.

 After lunch we had time before the bus came so we walked along the bricks, and onward to the water...

 fresh strawberries with real cream
 I do not know how to turn around these paper birch trees which were outside the Storm King Gift Shop

 The Restaurant
 Some TREE

 Special word for tree against house. Haven't used these words in so long, I can't remember.

 Gardens at Storm King. Ooh, I'll have to show these pix to Ellen Rosenberg.
 Water in the way beyond.

 Homebound. The pix are out of order.
 Some of these are David Smith.

 I asked if I could take their pix.
 I'd end up walking much of the acreage.

 Study in Red. I made up the title.
 One of Smith's White Sculptures.
 A couple more.

 David Smith's Ballerina in Pink, another name I made up.

 Okay, if you're so smart, why can't you make this for your own yard?
 Henry Moore.
 Columns that are only temporary.
 Click a couple times to enlarge. Thanks, I will, after they're all loaded.

 Evelyn at the gift shop.

 Turns out my poppies are a raggedy pink.


How lovely it is as I open the front door
for the umpteenth time and stare

Who will live here after me on this
once rolling farmland where white horses
trod and pulled jingling sleighs

Mayhap there were smoke houses for
bacon and pork roasts, tender as
lilac buds that show their glory

The chickadees are safe in their
bird houses, bringing up another
brood of chicks

While, I, too, have done my part.


Neena seated me by the window so I could
watch the cars pull in
They have great coffee at Tim and Terri's
Strong and hot with plenty of refills

I paged through the menu, or "caidan"
in Neena's home country of China
A beaut with kind ways she was

None of that raging fiery dragon
pomposity from Madame Mao, dead of

My eyes lit up when I saw the
senior special. Look no further,
I thought, I'll order the meat loaf,
the mashed potatoes, all ladled with gravy,
and broccoli with real butter.

I sipped slowly on the coffee while
reading Jojo Moyes' novel about a
quadraplegic. Think not of the school
shootings and the tearing apart,
the severing, of young bodies, as if
they were chicken limbs.

The meat loaf was magnificent,
covered with savory gravy, I sipped
slowly on the water from the red
plastic cup, with straw

Wore my Storm King Sculpture Garden
cap, a new convert to cap-wearing. For
dessert I ordered a cup of blueberries
and poured cream on top.

A friend named Brian sat in the back.
Had he looked my way, I would've waved
but not talked. Have I told you
I love dining alone?

What's this about rain?
Pash-tush! Settling myself
and my doggie bag in the
car, I drove off, listening
to a doo-wop station.

Blue Moon came on as tiny tear drops
of rain sprinkled the windshield.
As I rounded the corner where the
new YMCA is going up, my wipers
were going 80 mph.

As I entered the house I was
as wet as if I'd swum laps
in the Y's new pool.

Changed into a smashingly
beautiful dress, colorful
as the Brooklyn Botanical Garden.


Imagine if I woke up in the morning
with nothing to do, nothing but
listen to a Vivaldi piece on the
classical music station

Nothing but lie on my red couch
watching my mobiles swing from the

Or wait for the sound of Mailman Dante's
truck chugging up Cowbell

Gonna drive into town today
The little town of Hatboro
where they made hats for
the overthrow of the British

Under siege!
I shall.
Best go into the basement.
The bed's already made
and tiny spiders spin
their webs.

If the drones don't kill me
the spiders will.


Before she moved into Ann's Choice
Assisted Living, her huge house
was her artist's studio. One wall
celebrated photos of her favorite
artists: Mapplethorpe, Paloma Picasso,
Bruce Springsteen and Philip Roth
sitting at his huge writing desk.
Messy, like hers.

Now all hope was gone that he'd
pay her a visit. Just come
whistling through the back door.

She'd ask him to choose which
cup - there were dozens - in
which to pour him El Pico Cuban

They'd sip together while
the African Violets grew
slowly in the dining room.


A certain Mr Melville sold off the pharmacy part of CVS
stating the initials stood for
Convenience, Value, and Service

They call me three times a day
saying Your prescriptions are

Lucky me! When I drove over
at dusk last night to pick up
my kidney antirejection med

I went to the CONVENIENT drive-
thru line. Since little me
could not reach the box, I
parked a foot away, turned off
my engine and walked over.

Andrew in navy attire poked
his head out the glass window.

You can't park there, he said.
This is a drive-thru.
It's a hazard. I asked for my

How long will it take to get it, I asked.
Two hours, he said.

Do you have it in stock?
Yes, he said, but it will take
two hours.

Goodbye, I said, pulling away.
How lucky I am I'll never go


by Ruth Z. Deming

Peep peep peep!

“Coming darlings,” said Mother. “Look what I’ve found for you.”

Wriggling from her mouth were several worms. Yes, with spring on its way, the worms couldn’t wait to see what was happening above ground.

Were they capable of learning?

Mother nuzzled her furry little babes with the side of her face. Affection was so important. After all, one day, they would fly away and start families of their own.

Peep peep peep peep peep!

“Don’t worry,” said Mother. “That damn cat can’t reach us in our bird house.”

Peep peep peep peep peep!

“It’s only the mailman,” she said. “He’s early today. And look! He’s wearing shorts because spring is here!”

Rock music came from his headphones.

The four little chicadees peeked out of the doorway, which also served as a window.

The grass was beginning to get green, after the long winter hibernation. A gray cat flew by, headed for the compost heap in the back yard. Egg shells, orange rinds, onion skins.

Mother was an explorer and knew everything happening in her territory.

The only thing she didn’t know was “When?”

Their bird house took a battering over the winter. The floor was loose. Once she had lost an egg, a beautiful white egg, which was smashed when that little boy down the street saw it. He put his sneakered foot on it and jumped up and down, laughing.

A man with a mustache enters the yellow house. Yes! He’s bringing a new bird house. Soon the woman in the house will go on her screened-in back porch and paint it.

For us!

For our little chicadee family.


Tried to concentrate on my new audio book
Sing Them Home, but it was impossible.
Was following a shiny black Chevrolet
with more going on on its rear
than a drive-in movie.

Sure, I was sipping on a powerful
Starbucks Vanilla Latte, I think it's
called, the ice adding much-needed
cooling on this 80 degree day.

The Chevrolet Cruze, bought at
Laferty's, was a sedan, like mine,
we're often dwarfed by the larger
vehicles, had a bevy of red lights
bringing to mind Stendhal's The
Red and the Black, I read years ago.

It's the mirror I must discuss.
All across the rear ran a mirror.
It reflected trees and more trees.
How we love trees here in America.

Somehow I crawled directly into that
mirror, wearing my Storm King cap,
and sweaty dress and walked among
the trees. Swinging my arms and
looking all around. Songbirds
flew low and almost snapped
off my nose, but onward I

A small pond with goldfish was
directly in front. Why not? I thought.
My dress ballooned all around me, a reminder of
Virginia Woolf, as I floated on my back,
staring at the azure sky, as the goldfish
tickled my red-painted toes.


I'm on Facebook at four in the morning
the lights flicker four times
oh, correct yourself already, I think,
but darkness prevails.

Of all things, I have a small purple flashlight
in my study, and guide myself downstairs. Deepek
Chopra's been on TV talking about how all experiences
become who you are.

Out into the darkness I go. Two or three cars
whiz by, very fast. I'd be afraid of crushing
a turtle or some robin's eggs blown from their nest.

When forty-five minutes have elapsed, I grope for
my iPhone. Like a blind Aunt Hattie, I dial 911,
taking five minutes to work the damn thing.

Lying on the red couch, I attempt to sleep, the
way Deepek has taught us. No use. I dream of
eating out at a diner. Any diner will go.

A bright light appears on our street. PECO
the electric company. The white-helmeted man
disappears in my back yard. Don't get tangled
up, sir, inn the raspberry bushes.

I go into the kitchen to eat. Grab a Granola
bar from the top of the fridge. Dry, tasteless,
but good if a bomb drops.

Hummmm. The sound of the fridge going on.

Thank you Mr Peco Man.


I heard the mighty thunder
over my twirling fan
then my bedroom lit up
with lightning
a beautiful sight
frightening to children
and to dogs

Grabbing my flash light
I ran downstairs lest we
have another "lights out"
and stood in my nightie
at the screen door

Ah, nothing like the
pure clean smell
the beauty of the greenery
Our green planet when viewed
from the Enterprise

The rain heralding once again
the valor of the soldiers
buried deep underground
including our own Hatboro Cemetery
who volunteered or were drafted
for one more war to keep our
country safe.

Millions more will die as
they consent to that
eternal lie.

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