Posted in Gratitude

Blossoming where they’re planted…

Flowers don’t grow
they rise up
with the sun,
spending their days frolicking
hardly overcome!

They decorate
our gardens
with worshipful praise,
ever so humble they brighten our days…

where they are planted,
they’re an uncomplaining bunch,
in the nourishment
of waterlogged mulch..


Posted in Gratitude

Planting memoirs of gratitude..

“Still I want my life to be willing to be dazzled,
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even to float a little above this difficult world…”
― Mary Oliver, House of Light

It’s easier
to fade
into the background
of words unsaid,
to understand surrender
and hold no regret…

To swim in oceans of acceptance,
ride the wings of love,
pick flowers of forgiveness
and be cognizant of…
nature’s eloquent poetry
and abiding grace,
beneath trees
of enlightenment,
growing in the soil
of faith…

to plant memoirs of gratitude,
reap abundant joy,
to hear the laughter of the stars
from a distant void…

float above the troubles
that afflict our lives,
see light overcome darkness
and not merely survive!

as inheritors of kindness, we are authors of mirth,
lovers of humanity
and keepers of the earth!

image courtesy of PixaBay

Posted in Gratitude

The car boot sale…

“One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.”
– English Proverb

It was a murky day, rain threatened, but we payed it no head. We woke up early, not feeling at all enthusiastic about the day. We had loaded the car to the roof the afternoon before, with linen, books and an array of odds and ends, things that overflowed in our cupboards and had been taking up too much space!

We don’t usually get up early on a Sunday, it’s our day to lie in, and ease into the day.
As we chugged out of the gate, I felt some anxiety, anticipating only selling a few items and looking like a fool into the bargain.

We arrived at the station yard where they hold the car-boot sale once a month, and for a minute it seemed like a multitude had gathered, traders galore and able-bodied consumers in hoards milled about. We found one of the last spots to park, it didn’t look like a very promising position at all, not like the shady spots under the trees, with professional traders bearing racks of clothes and shelves laden with goods.

However, a minute later we were swarmed, before we even had time to label any of our items with a price. My stomach went into a knot. I recognized a friend in the crowd and elicited his help, he was willing and able, I think he foresaw a few bargains of his own. As we set up our tiny garden table, we had already sold at least 10 items on the spur of the moment. It was quite a mish-mash of goods, not at all professional looking.

Around us a crowd of enthusiastic bargain-hunters gathered and I spotted another friend in the crowd. I then realized that most of these shoppers were Malawians. It took me back to our visit to a very large flee market in Lilongwe where they received bales of unwanted clothes and goods from affluent European countries, clothing that looked like it had never been worn. It was a place where the crowd haggled amid a jumble of various items for the best price. You couldn’t walk away without finding a bargain.

Perhaps the crowd this Sunday recognized that we were novices, because they definitely knew how to drive a hard bargain. I was willing to let things go because I was determined not to re-load the car with our excess of unused-possessions.

Our table was a treasure trove of pre-loved items that have cluttered our drawers and cupboards for far too long, some embellishments that had seen their glory days but had now lost appeal, impulse buys I never wore because I had planned to lose weight and never did.

It was like being in the trenches with people who don’t own much because they have travelled far to find work in a foreign country. They live in small rooms with their families and a shopping experience gives them a bit of a Sunday outing. It is definitely a good place to make a deal, drink a coffee and wolf down a pancake or two.

They managed to drive many of our prices down, almost to rock bottom, with the promise of ready cash. I saw hope in the eyes of one shopper when she saw a pillow, and I heard mention that she only had one pillow at home. I let it go for a fraction of the price, with the thought in my mind that I had no use for it anyway, and it might bring some joy to this discerning shopper.

My friend who is an artist told me he hadn’t been painting for the past year, my heart sank because he is really good. He is also a Malawian, just trying to put food on the table, taking any odd-job that comes his way. He spied some colored pencils I hadn’t marked with a price; I saw his eyes light up. If I could do some good in the world that day it was to inspire him to start sketching again, I handed them to him and said he could have them. He walked away with an air of excitement in his stride, hopefully knowing that someone believed in him.

I felt as though I had seen humanity at the car boot sale that day, the ones who need the things we have too much of, the ones who purchase our left overs, our impulse buys, our vanity. They help us declutter our homes and lives, they even give us pause to think about how privileged we are.

For the rest there were some definite bargain hunters who find a little treasure in unused tools, books, crockery *“epns” silverware and old vases at give-away prices.

A young man excitedly bought some CD’s that my son had in his car before he passed. He told us that he was driving his Dad’s old car down to Cape Town and it didn’t have the latest technology, so he was glad to find some entertainment for the road. It was music we don’t listen to, but it made my heart glad knowing there was someone who appreciated my son’s taste in music.

We came away quite pleased with our little stash of loot. It had been quite a festive day, with a live musician who played all the old beats and even took requests!

*electro-plated nickel silver
Nickel silver first became popular as a base metal for silver-plated cutlery and other silverware, notably the electroplated wares called EPNS (electro-plated nickel silver).


Posted in Gratitude

The arrival…

“Nature is the song of praise that never stops singing!”
― Richard Rohr

The absence of impression had given me away,
consumed by the longing
the world had turned to grey…

mournful words fallen
from unspoken lips,
I reach for the tenderness
where love and light exist..

speaking through a veil of hope
I’d put my dreams aside,
feelings of sorrow
and loss I’ve tried to hide…

but hidden in my untamed breath,
is the the echo of constant death!

And my skin becomes translucent
my bones turn to dust,
slowly resistance crumbles
and grace will not be hushed…

I hold onto the offerings
of a buzzing in the trees,
a festival of florets
enticing grateful bees…

It’s a celebratory arrival, in the warm sunshine,
gazing at the movement
I’m tuned
into the divine!

And in this consummate moment, my sadness disappears,
snatched away by butterflies
heaven’s volunteers…


Posted in Gratitude

Exchanging light…

A year ago the pandemic was declared, I didn’t quite believe it, I shrugged it off for a time, until reality hit hard-and now a year later I am still hoping for a change of season.
As I look to the sky for signs, I find myself growing weary, almost mute with sadness over the state of the world. It’s a subdued feeling, like we are in a waiting room, hoping the news will be better than we expect, almost resigned to the loss of freedom.
Then I collect myself and realize that this moment is all I have and the sky lights up before me.

in growing shadows
and honey-colored rays,
I exchange the light
of cooler days,
and the breeze frolics
in the evening air
birds warble without a care…

the season is changing
in a scurry of wind,
in vibrant colors
never dimmed,
leaden impressions
may smudge the skies,
but Autumn’s mood is never shy!

it’s the return of softness
of mellow rays,
a tease of sunlight on cloudy days…


Posted in Gratitude

The call…

The waters call
from translucent depths,
to be as one
with nature’s breath…
To listen to
the rhythm
of the tides,
to play in rock pools
like a carefree child…

To reclaim
the taste
of salty air,
and feel hard ground
absorb despair…

Barefoot bathers reunite,
in a delicious glow
of warm sunlight,
forgetting the suffering
that plagues our earth,
drinking the ambrosia
of healing mirth…

surfers stand in the rush of the waves,
riding the swell in holy praise!

along with fishermen who watched by night
and feel the thrill of an early bite..

we soak up
the fragrance
of ocean spray,
tangible magic of a summer’s day,..


Posted in Gratitude


“The sunflower is mine, in a way.”
― Vincent van Gogh

Whenever I see sunflowers I think of Vincent van Gogh and how they must have elevated his mood!

of carefree days,
sunflowers grow
in bright arrays,
overcast moods,
contemplative interludes…

happiness that can be bought,
painting over
gloomy thoughts
in yellows,
and sage greens,
gracious blossoms
have intervened…

Posted in Gratitude

Healing shades…

“Learn what is to be taken seriously and laugh at the rest.”
― Herman Hesse

On evenings like this
in scattered blues,
I’m gratefully drenched
in amber hues,
and feelings call out
for tender blessings
to release me from my
dark obsessions..

My feet had stumbled
on rocky grounds
and confessions broke
in mumbled sounds
that heaved
melancholy sighs,
brooding shadows
that soliloquize..

and laughter moved again
across the skies,
in quiet moments I was being baptized!

now I’m lingering,
in its healing shades,
growing back
as twilight fades
into colors seen
in fluent contrast,
inclement moods
that have come to pass…


Posted in Gratitude

Collections of grace…

I was zooming with my brother in the Northern Hemisphere and I realized there are moments that simply take our breath away, I call them collections of grace…

I’ve been captured by silence,
re-learning how to think,
you know those fleeting moments
when the lines becomes distinct?

and the canopy of sky spills from indigo blues
a reimagined life
a captivating muse…

she was cleaning the windows
light caught in her hair
looking out at snowflakes
she didn’t see me stare…

conversations meet
in the soft light
of distant lands,
I pen them in my scrapbook
and my small world expands…

glimpses of radiance, unknowingly caught,
collections of grace,
gold that can’t be bought…

grasses drenched in sunlight, congregations of birds,
shadows at twilight
and a symphony of words…

moments that take our breath away
magical events,
we gaze out at beauty
and quietly repent…

we repent of our grumbling,
we repent of our rage,
we recognize the tenderness
that causes us to change…

And these pieces of eternity
are strung together by light,
circumstances beyond control
are the stories we will write…

Let’s keep watch on the horizon, and wait for the turning tides,
like jewels in the darkness
our light we can’t hide…

I’m looking into the windows of everlasting souls
I am one with each moment
re-discovering how to be whole…

There’s snow falling up north,
windows misty with frost,
I’m a collector of these fragments
keepsakes never lost…

It’s in the visceral moments that we revisit our breath,
we rethink our language,
we recognize our strength…