Welcome 2014!

New years begin with the month of my birth, though my birthday falls on the far edge (the 31st). Not a clean slate. No, I'm not one of those folks who see the year as a clean slate upon which we pen our fresh starts (or repeat mistakes).

However, the shift in calendar years does arrive with the energy of renewal. I see buds arching their curled green shoots into a barely visible space above the ground that is my inner foundation. Yes, this begins soon outdoors, but I'm speaking of the seeds I planted within my heart and soul during 2013. They, too, needed a winter chill and a bit of hibernation time before showing their promise of fruit, their place in a foundation for what each day now holds. 

Looking forward to what might unfold in my writing life, family, home and music. Welcome 2014!

Winter Magic

Winter Magic

her profile altered

by blue swirls and a snowman

rendered in face paint

surrounded by twirls of snow

framed by her beautiful smile

by judy Beaston

December 1, 2013

happy - a poem

happy

single yellow blossom

dancing in an open meadow

inhaling life - exhaling joy

Where did Autumn go?

Summer splendor slipped with little fanfare into the transition days of fall -- some demanding more of summer's heat and others teasing with winter's chill, and we even tasted nature's liquid refreshment, long-missing this season.

September danced with eagerness upon new endeavors -- school for everyone, all five members of this household, this fall. That varied across age-lines, of course.

The youngest, Jayden, proudly dons his fox design red backpack every morning as he heads to daycare/preschool.

His older sister slips on a bigger, heavier version and with equal gusto, heads off to first grade.

Their mom returned to university this fall, a shift from pre-school teacher to a career in electronics on her horizon; while their dad continued his own college courses also directing him into the field of engineering.

Meanwhile, Nana (that's me) dove into a mix of writing and poetry courses and projects, balancing (without much success) those with the return of community band rehearsals and plans for a remodel of the kitchen.

All that to say -- GOOD GRIEF, my last entry was in August and we're fast approaching Thanksgiving already.  I was reminded by a poet friend today that my blog was a bit dated - a polite understatement.

I'll be writing midst dust and noise and a missing kitchen soon -- stay tuned...

Visiting Portland's Japanese Garden

Japanese Garden Pond

sheltered by green trees,

stone pagoda guards quiet

garden pond, dancing

waterfall sings harmony

invites peaceful reflection

by judy Beaston

August 11, 2013

Chalked

No Body Here

Morning calls,

my groggy body replies;

first the cat's demands

meted out from a tin can,

then yogic breathing,

stretches loosen limbs,

eyes open wider;

blood flows, creaking,

groaning joints move free.

I open my front door,

cross the threshold, step

onto an accident scene,

the body's outline chalked

upon the concrete walkway

mere inches from the doormat

bidding all "WELCOME!"

Chalked images of shoes rest

next to the figure, lined up

as if he were merely sleeping,

a transient who stopped by

having heard about a party,

or so I speculate when I notice

the party popper in – no "on" –

his chalked hand. You know

the ones – they send confetti

and more into the air at the pull

of a simple string. Poor guy

appears nude, his butt outlined

in soft, curved, yellow powder.

A heart placed near the house

completes the picture, perhaps,

or as a message that all is in fun,

a non-malicious game by teens

at a summer party, their thrill

my shock as I take gentle steps

past this crime scene outline

and retrieve my morning paper.

summer pleasures

polished

feet, glorious feet

guide our walks from here to there

toes freed or toes crimped

inside socks and pointed shoes

or laughing with painted nails

by judy beaston

July 1, 2013

With summer comes the pleasure of exposed feet and toes and an opportunity to decorate toenails in bright colors, even add flowers. My feet smile when the weather allows for more freedom. There's just no breathing inside winter's socks, no matter how thin the fabric. 

The above photo represents three generations enjoying the fun, and we each included flowers on our toes. I must admit, that was/is a first for me. I'm not generally one to gravitate toward painted nails on either hands or feet, but the opportunity to share the experience with my daughter and granddaughter could not be passed up.