chocolate is a verb

colors, flavors, whims and other growing things

Monthly Archives: December 2012

almost…

found poem © j.i. kleinberg ~ almost
found poem © j.i. kleinberg

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one more present!

Blog of the Year Award 1 star jpegWell, it seems I hadn’t quite gotten all the way down into the toe of my Christmas stocking because I discovered that chocolate is a verb has been nominated for a Blog of the Year 2012 Award by Alexandra, who blogs at I Started Late and Forgot the Dog. Thanks, Alexandra!. Here’s more about the ‘Blog of the Year 2012’ Award.

In spite of feeling pleased to be nominated, I have to confess to being a little suspect of such pass-it-on awards, which proliferate in the blogosphere. Nonetheless, I will compliantly pass it along by nominating Odd, Good, True, in which the irrepressible and irreverent Cupcake Murphy and her sidekick/muse, Cooper, offer daily doses of whatever you need for whatever ails you (or at least for whatever ails me).

December 30

THE FUSS…

bride…

to make…

the archive of lost history…

lost historyYesterday, looking at other people’s old Christmas photos — kids sitting in front of Christmas trees, at the hearth in front of an array of stockings — I checked for holiday photos of my own. I didn’t find any, but discovered, again, among albums-full of cousins and friends, many unidentified images from my parents’ past: a baby in a buggy, May 1923; the foal of the horse my mother owned with friends in the 1940s; a house, somewhere; a WWII soldier on a European street, another soldier’s shadow on the sidewalk.

What do I do with these old photos? No sibs, no kids, no one to tell me who or where, do I just throw them away? Submit them to some anonymous archive of lost history?

If I keep them long enough, will they become important to me? If I keep them long enough, will they become the illustrations, the inspiration, for stories, poems, yet waiting to be written?

the morning…

You need…

as stars…

solstice…

trumpeter swans photo by Scott Terrell / Skagit Valley Herald

From here the northern days will fatten, each day sipping moments of light through the chilly straw of winter,
imperceptibly lengthening to show us more of the bare trees, the white birds,
the blue-snowed crags of distant peaks.
I welcome every second.
. . . . .
trumpeter swans photo by Scott Terrell / Skagit Valley Herald

memento…

LRK to DAK ~ 27th anniversaryMy parents got married on December 20th. Twenty-seven years later, my mother found this small wood object set at her place at the breakfast table, where my father had left it without card or comment. Something she had made — a card, a small painting — would be at his place, and I would have left, or mailed, something for them as well. Hand-made objects, left quietly for discovery, at once expected and surprising, marked all of our family occasions.

This one fits perfectly in your hand, one side rounded, sanded to silken smoothness, the other carved with this anniversary message. The wood is satiny maple, the piece meant to be held, warmed in the hand, set down, picked up.

Sometimes my father came upstairs from his workshop and, extending his arm, palm down, waited for my mother or me to reach out and take something from him. He made many small pieces for the hand and that gesture, the arm extended palm down, was familiar to most of the people he knew. It said “This is for you” as clearly as if he had spoken, and it seemed he could always reach into his pocket and pull out a tumbled slice of agate, a carved and polished wedge of wood — enduring pieces of memory we read and re-read with our hands.

Happy December 20th.

sharing the good cheer…

listen…

in the rainstorm…

she needs…

irreverent…

wondering…

white crocusHaven’t we died enough? Haven’t our hearts been wrenched from our chests?
Must we learn every day anew
to grieve, to trust, to breathe?

READ…

I’VE PLENTY…

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