Happy Birthday Mother Midsummer celebration Through sodden tears And quiet lamentation the longest day of the year miss you, Mother dear.
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As a youth up to my early teens, my family would go camping from May (Victoria weekend) until mid-October (Canadian Thanksgiving). I would literally go for a quick swim about a week after the ice had melted…just to impress my father and he and my sister would take down the tent often in the snow in October.
Every weekend my parents, sister and I would ride up to Isle le Motte, Vermont (on Champlain Lake) to spend a weekend in the fresh air. Friday night when we arrived, would consist of eating split pea soup before going to bed and Saturday we would often have T-bone steak with huge wieners and baked potatoes on the BBQ for dinner.
Thankfully the family that camped next door were our good friends (more like our second family) from our hometown and had three children, the two eldest were teens; so the parents would sit around a campfire and do adult stuff like tells jokes and drink lots of Bloody Mary’s except for my dad who was sober since I was seven and the teens would listen to The Rolling Stones and the Beatles on our turntable….yes, there was electricity that served for our entertainment so we did not whine to our parents we were bored; electricity was only for tacky lanterns lit around the campsite and our record player.
Before starting the fire however, my father would combine the fixings to make home-baked beans, put it all in an earthenware pot and he had purchased a tiny square oven (looked just like a tin box) and dig it in the centre of the ground beneath the bonfire. The beans baked all night long .
New dawn whispers
Sunday breakfast simmers
neath amber ashes
She looks at the sky as she drives towards a storm…the clouds look like waves and then the dark heavy billows menacing a downpour. Huge droplets fall and she pulls over the side of the highway as many other motorists have wisely done. The sound is hypnotizing and she turns off the motor, radio and wipers…
dark puffs of anger burst at the seams cascading quietude
rue Ste Catherine, Montréal May 1st until September (Labour Day) the part of this street is closed to vehicles…streets lined with pedestrians and terraces.
In the past two days she had attended a clinical training in downtown Montréal, to improve in her counselling techniques and brief solution focus approach. It was nice to be with colleagues that she rarely saw all at once due to varied shifts scattered over a 24 hour period. The fun part was eating out together and interesting conversation. Their hunger to learn is apparent as they want to be the best they can to help youths in need.
embrace their role
puddles of misery
youths reach out
~
open to change
new options replace stale ways privilege to witness
This serene painting le poète allongé captures a touching moment in the life of Marc Chagall, one of Russia’s greatest unconventional artists and his wife Bella Rosenfeld.
Completed during their honeymoon in 1915, it shows the artist reclining dreamily in front of the family’s dacha. He lies stretched on the grass, his body dramatically elongated, with the vast majority of the picture taken up with a violet sky and green pine forest landscape, home to a modest farmhouse and its animals.
Here is my second offering in this prompt at Heeding Haiku with Ha, a positive and dreamy version.
(haiku)
rosa bella blushing bride sighs lone pig squeals
~ time stands still illicit dreams arouse the old mare snorts
~ an artist’s vision canvas scented pine purple brush strokes
It was a hot muggy day and she dreaded going to work. She shuffled across the street with her sunglasses protecting her sensitive blue eyes from the hot sun at high noon. Suddenly she got a whiff of those amazing lilacs on the side of the road. She had to pause briefly to take in that moment. Such a mundane experience lifted her spirits and added a bit of a lilt in her step on her way to the Métro.