Hands
Earned their keep
These hands of mine
My chicks are a bit stressed from the long, bumpy ride home. Why is it we never notice how terrible a road is until every bump creates a frantic, harried, shrill chirping? One of the Buff Orpingtons is ESPECIALLY LOUD! I think they wore themselves out and thus, the photos are a bit drab but…
Plans I had a blog post drafted up four weeks ago about my upcoming retirement. Instead, I am publishing this blog post — the first thing I’ve written since I fractured my shoulder on October 25. November was supposed to be my “Month of the Writer!” — a kickstarter to retirement life, where I will…
This post contains my first attempt at doing an “educational” video. Perhaps someone powerful will see this, marvel at my talent, and hire me as a broadcaster or public speaker. I might even get my own TV show. It can only get better than this No where to go but up Which way to look…
An Ode to May messily meandering maimed and misunderstood oh you monstrosity of a month Ah, yes, written during the down-of-things. The upside of May is found in Jamaica Kincaid’s book, My Garden (Book): “The month of May comes on suddenly and moves along swiftly, and each day pleasure after pleasure is flung before…
Gliding down a hill on my bicycle, I see a break in the tarred path up ahead. These cracks, potholes, and raised pavement happen a lot in Minnesota with our extreme changes in temperature. There are also the tree roots that raise the tar in defiance. Unevenness and cracks at a distance can be tricky…
Remember how aging used to be something you looked forward to? How when someone asked you how old you were, you proudly held up your fingers and were so excited when it was your birthday and one more finger raised the flag? At age five, you started school. At twelve, you were practically an adult….
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Fantastic! These hands have earned their keep? I love that! And your photographs are stunning – as are your hands! I often think that way about my body in general – you know, that it’s earned its keep – but specifically hands? What a lovely meditation. I loved, loved, loved this and will look at my age spotted, somewhat scarred, crepe paper textured skin hands more lovingly and appreciatively after reading this.
Your hands, poem, and photos, are beautiful. (but I do know the feeling of looking at my own hands and thinking “who’s are these?”)
Lynn