☕️ Messes & Marvels

A Saturday Caesura

This morning I sat down and wrote some thoughts for this caesura. Thoughts about vulnerability and virus variants and stuck supertankers and murder and violence and other egregious acts against fellow human beings. I wrote a lot of words, but I don’t think they were very coherent. Sometimes I just need to dump everything on a page and let it sit there in a mess for a while. Someday when I will come back to the word-tangle, maybe there will be a clear line of thought that is worth unravelling.

So today’s caesura is not about those thoughts, but about some images from this week. Images like the tiny “hairs” lining the edges of a baby lupine leaf. The lupine is in my classroom at the moment, escaping the heat of the greenhouse until it’s warm enough outside to give it a more permanent home in my yard. I noticed the hairs because they caught the early morning light coming through the window and created a halo around each leaf frond. The glow drew me in for a closer look. Remarkable.

In true northern prairie fashion, it snowed on the day after the first day of spring and I don’t want to talk about how much it snowed or how horrible the roads were, but I do want to talk about how the snow is now melting drip by drip off the edge of the roof. Sometimes a few drops will drip in unison, other times in succession. They remind me of a hand-bell choir. I wonder what song they would make if each drop dripped a note on the scale. Would it be a lament for winter? Or an anthem for spring’s arrival?

The Christmas cactus I bought as a gift for a friend (that I never had a chance to see at Christmas because of Covid) still sits in my kitchen window. It bloomed this week. The brilliant pink blossom looked like an exotic bird from some distant tropical jungle, and even though Christmas came and went ages ago, this blossom was the best possible gift for this week. There are two more budding gifts and now I’m not sure my friend will ever see this particular plant.

Sometimes I need to leave my thoughts in a muddled mess of words on the pages of a notebook I can close and walk away from. And sometimes I need to leave all the messes of the world (beginning with my own heart) at the foot of the cross and focus on the small but extraordinary blessings each day contains. Often I can view the messes with more clarity and understanding when I filter them through the lens of God’s intended goodness for his creation.

Saturday Caesura

Years ago I set a goal to write something here each week and created Saturday Caesura as a way of forcing myself to write and of extending an invitation to cease, to pause, and reflect on life in all of its wonder and mess. I lost the habit somewhere in the midst of that mess, but have decided that it’s time to revitalize this weekly reflection.

Yesterday’s Leap Day snowstorm reset the season from Melting-Towards-Spring to Winter-Wonderland-Redux. Today, shovels marched out of sheds and tossed and scraped, searching for familiar pathways and sturdy decks. Blades-on-quads motored to and fro, back and forth, up and down, making way for spring to continue its search for dirt and gravel, the stuff of earth. Gradually the shovels, mildly worn out, wandered across streets to serve as props for leaning conversations; the quadding blades shuffled drivers and puttered off to excavate other driveways. When all the stuff of winter was sufficiently removed and rearranged, everyone drifted back towards houses, sheds, garages — content and grateful.

Neighbourliness isn’t one-size-fits-all, but it sure it looks good on everyone who wears it.

🌿 All the Joyful Things

When it’s threatening snow in April

almost May

and you need to find all the

joyful things

like daffodil sprouts defying

the cold

and rotten trees that crashed

now burning

and crackling in the wood stove

and supper

of leftover chicken was actually

quite tasty

and there are friends to meet for

not-coffee

and your mind races and leaps with

joyful things

that would make a list too long for

this poem

so you just breathe thank you and go

to bed.

#30daysofpoetry #day29