After two full months of cold
that shoveling out gets rather old
and I’ve considered move to Mexico.
Now its piled both high and deep,
and I have tossed it in a heap
as far as futile efforts I can throw.

Sure, it’s pretty, I’ll admit,
but I would like it now to quit
so once more I can travel to and fro.
I am grateful for each day…
look forward to the month of May
when “snowbirds” from the south will north-ward blow.

We grieve in different ways …
With tears or silence or regret;
With normal functions all upset;
With thoughts of what we should forget;
Not knowing what to say.

We who are left behind
Must grapple with mortality.
The fallen leave a legacy
That all will face eternity …
Nor can death be declined.

If we can understand
That Purpose guides experience,
And when it seems as little sense
That life is cut at great expense
There is a Higher Hand.

No death is met in vain,
For there are never accidents
In God’s all-perfect Providence …
He makes no selfish ordinance,
But rather timeless gain.

We say our last “adieu”,
Yet we who meet to pay respect
Would face a certain grim prospect
That by the Sovereign Architect
Next meet for me or you.

Hark! Light now fills the sky!
An angel bathed in light appears.
We fall upon our faces. Fears
that as the heavenly choir nears
we’ll perish where we lie.

Dark? Gloomy? Night is gone!
The angel says we need no dread:
The Christ is born in manger bed.
“Go see the infant…good news spread,”
the angel choir swelled.

Why infant, not a king
to bring fair rule upon the earth?
And why with such a humble birth?
Could not He bask in worlds of worth,
brought on an angel’s wing?

Why? Why not a feed box?
By humble birth He comes, a man,
indentifying with our clan…
(It was the Father’s perfect plan)
low, with sheep and ox.

 Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father…Philippians 2: 5-11

Where are you?
It is not you who hides
your guilty face.
I cannot look at you;
I cannot know you.
Never could some
fig leaf grow
that could conceal
you and your bride.
You cannot hide from me,
and I can do you harm.

Where are you?
You’ve walked in willful strides
beyond the sphere
of my love.
You’re lost…not hidden.
You crouch in fear
because you chose…
decided to gain control
of your destiny,
and to reject
what you were bidden…
chose to believe
the Tempter’s charms.

Where are you?
You have surely died.
Your heart is pierced
with rank deceit,
where lust will grow,
where greed will cause
you to be fierce,
and pride will flow
like rivers in a flood.
The only way to pause
the swelling tide
is shedding blood.
You have sent up
your death alarm!

I know where you are,
but I will provide
the remedy to extricate
you from your deadly fate.
I will become a man
and live a perfect life,
that had you so done,
this Eden could be won
forever for you
and your wife.
and then, I as a man,
will be the sacrifice…
My wrath appeased…
forever satisfied,
and I, once more,
can welcome you
into my arms.

FIFTY YEAR SONNET

It’s been a fascinating fifty years
Of marriage, both “in sickness and in health.”
We planned for challenges and new frontiers,
And hoped for great success and maybe wealth.
Of course there would be trials marked by tears,
And sometimes conflicts cause by prideful self.
On some occasions undeservéd fears
That one would leave the other on the shelf.
But now we’ve set aside our separate spheres
While yet retaining differences we held,
And to our great surprise it now appears
Success for us has been unparalleled.

‘Twas neither pleasure nor prosperity
But love and trust has sealed the guarantee.

The end of the string,
and the concert’s not done;
but more string is essential
to complete the potential…
the symphony once begun.
Should I choose the same
or make a different choice?
The sameness is melodic;
a difference is harmonic.
Which sings to me the best voice?
The point…to connect,
and the choice is my own.
The Amen is not in sight,
nor should I take wings in flight
until He calls from His throne.
Meanwhile, we play the tune
with those of like kind,
and even when alone
it’s never monotone,
but textured with ties that bind.
God’s love keeps us not
from strings that can break,
but He’s the orchestrator
and none can e’er be greater.
He gives no more than we can take.

My garden has put a new spin
On the gift of “our daily bread.”
Fresh beans and tomatoes and squash
Are the foods that keep us well fed.

The problem with squash is too much.
I cook it, preserve it, and share.
The more I take, the more I get;
There’s more than enough I can spare.

I’ve come up with new recipes
To make daily squash a nice treat,
Because harvest soon will be done
And “bread” will be taters and meat.  

SQUASH PICKLES

(Modified Zylphia Lee recipe)

Slice following thin enough to see through:

·         2 lbs. summer squash (any variety)

·         2 small onions

·         1 small sweet red pepper

Cover with water containing

·         ¼ cup salt

Let stand for 2 hours

Meanwhile, set aside for later:

·         2 cups vinegar

·         2 cups sugar or 1 ½ cups Splenda™

·         1 teaspoon celery seed

·         1 teaspoon turmeric

·         2 teaspoons mustard seed

After 2 hours drain vegetables and bring vinegar solution to a boil and pour over vegetables; let stand another 2 hours; bring to boil and pack in hot sterile jars.

 Quick Sautéed Squash

Variety of summer squash sliced thin; season with onion powder, Italian seasoning, salt and pepper to taste; place in frying pan with 1 teaspoon margarine or butter/ cup sliced squash; cook on high until it begins to brown; reduce heat and cover; simmer until squash is soft; sprinkle parmesan cheese over top and serve.

 Baked Squash Medallions

·         Any variety of summer squash

·         Buttermilk

·         Seasoned breading (for a hot spicy taste use Zatarain’s™ chicken breading)

·         Colby-jack cheese, cut in little squares

Preheat oven to 375 Fahrenheit; slice any variety of summer squash into ⅛to ¼ inch slices; dip in buttermilk; shake off excess buttermilk; roll in seasoned breading; arrange on greased cookie sheet; bake until halfway soft; turn each slice and return to oven to bake until soft; top with cheese and return to oven until cheese melts.

EARLY MORNING EAVESDROP

The sun has barely kissed the mountain tops,
And colors yet remain a muted hint
 of summer’s splash.
It’s then I see the wary eye and lively hops
Of Mother Rabbit; speckled thrush; a glint
 of chipmunk’s dash
  beneath the leaves to nether habitat;
A gentle whirr of wings…he hardly stops
To sip the nectar from a bud of mint
 and in a flash
He’s gone to find a sweeter draught of sops…
The humming bird in acrobatic sprint
 back to his cache
  beyond the reach of Prince, the family cat.

This brief encounter in the early morn…
An eavesdrop on an alien critter land
 of diligence…
Reminds me not my duties ever scorn,
And to be grateful for those things at hand…
 a world immense
  and filled with bounty far beyond my dreams.
It is not commerce, but creation’s norm
Gives satisfaction to my soul’s demand…
 No false pretense
Or roads to riches or some task perform…
These are but castles to be built on sand…
 No consequence.
But rather count my blessing, not my schemes.