Two Days and Two Poems

41°f/5°C, partly cloudy but warming to 61°f.

A crazy couple of days. We continued work on the back room, finishing the cleanup yesterday before a trip to town for animal feed and dinner out with family. It seems like this has been a week of run, run, run, but it's been fun and we have managed to get some things done. 

Today I focused on housecleaning, sweeping, mopping, and putting away clutter. Then I moved on to making chicken noodle soup and a fruit salad since Derek and his soon-to-be step-granddaughter were here to help Sarah with some things in her cabin. They moved my old 1950 Tappan Deluxe range up to her cabin at last-- it has been sitting in my kitchen for almost 2 years, ever since I bought a "new" stove, a 1951 Tappan Deluxe. The extra stove wasn't really in the way; my kitchen is huge and there was a spot we could store the stove.

Next I put together a dozen grab bags and some mystery discount cards for the open house at one of our locations this weekend.  I had just finished when the gravel we have been waiting for arrived. Of course it did, just as I was about to leave. And of course the truck got stuck in the muddy place where Sarah's gas line and a new culvert were put in last week. After some finagling the driver managed to get the truck moved and the gravel got spread. Whew.

I left right after that drama, taking Derek's step-granddaughter with me. I guess she'll be my step-great-granddaughter, hadn't thought of that! She is a sweet 8 year old with beautiful red hair, and was a joy to be with. She helped me get the grab bags set up in the booth,  then had a good browse through the mall. Of course, Granny bought her the t-shirt she loved!

Then home to pack ebay and finally sit down and take a break. Which I am doing right now as I write this. I never even got finished one cup of coffee all day, but it's too late for caffeine now.

I mentioned that I read a couple poems at the open mic the other night, and I thought I'd share them here. This first was written about 10 years ago and it's one of my favorites. I have never submitted it anywhere for publication, but maybe someday I will.

Old Dogs

Old dogs don’t mind sleeping on the floor,

but they prefer the couch.

They like heat; scorched fur

means they’re warm and by the stove.

 

Old dogs like candy, even chocolate

and don’t care if it is bad for them.

It might even be fatal, but old dogs

will take the chance because they know

they only have a few years left anyway.

 

Old dogs know how to get scratched

in places they can’t reach themselves

since their legs don’t bend like they used to.

They wriggle under an idle hand,

and wait patiently because

a scratch is a scratch wherever it lands.

 

Old dogs snore and fart and pretend

they can’t hear when someone tells them

to get away from the table and don’t beg.

They beg. They’re not proud.

Table scraps are tasty and worth the risk

of being put outside.

 

Old dogs know about the important things in life:

warmth, comfort, food, a good scratch.

What else is there,

for an old dog?

This second one was written around 2018, I think, and is in the chapbook Porch Poems my three friends and I published a couple years ago. The book is available from me, or from Sheila-Na-Gig Publishing.  The poem is based on an actual experience of meeting this intriguing man at his yard sale way up a holler. I will never forget him.

The Rusty Spoon

“Why do you keep it,” she asked, “like it’s something special, 

an ornament or a treasure? It’s just a rusty spoon.”

She didn’t know his eyes, glimmering blue,

sharp as ice needles. She didn’t see his skin,

 worn and beat, craggy with years and hard use,

or hear his voice, smoke-darkened, prison rough.

She didn’t smell the sharp acid of oak or his sweat

from splitting a mountain of winter warmth.

She didn’t feel the tough skin of his hands, split,

callused, nails bitten to the quick. She didn’t know

the story, how he found the spoon,

two feet down in  red clay, digging a grave

in a churchyard with markers so old

the names were worn away.

She didn’t see his cabin,

 tucked under the edge of a laurel thicket

beside a dark stream, hidden from curious view.

She didn’t hear the wonder in his voice,

see the mystery in his eyes

as he handed the spoon to me.

 

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

Sorting Out and Open Mic

29°f/-2°C this morning, snow until around noon. Total for thr past 24 hours about 5 inches. Now cold and clear,19°f/-7.w°C.

Buddy and Pip had to go look early this morning, while Daisy wisely stayed inside!

Another full day. Granddaughter Sarah came down from her cabin for breakfast so I made Denise's oat and eggs pancakes with strawberry syrup. So delicious.  Then Larry and I tackled the back room where we store projects to be worked on, lumber, Christmas and Fall totes, etc. It was a huge sort out, with stuff that's been waiting a long time getting pitched out or put in the donate pile. Hard work, heavy lifting, but almost done. It feels ao good to have that room organized, and space created where we can actually work on stuff! 

I made a quick lunch from the root cellar: turkey salad sandwiches, tomato soup, and diced peaches. The grocery store provided lettuce, bread, and mayonnaise, but everything else was home-canned.

Then we took a break before getting cleaned up and heading out to the open mic. What fun! A young man named Brandon Scott did several Irish songs.

His mother,who is blind, did stand-up comedy,

my friend Suzy told a well-known Irish folktale, a young guy did a few songs with his guitar, and I read a couple of my poems,  told a tall tale, and sang an old Scottish ballad, The Great Selkie of Sule Skerry. It was truly a memorable evening.

After the open mic we stopped at a local restaurant where Larry had his first green beer. 

Every year we say we will go out to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day, but every year something intervenes, so it had become a sort of bucket list item. Now at last we can check it off. But I have a feeling that we will be looking to celebrate again next year!

My shirt for tonight:

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.

What a Day! And Random Stuff

This is certainly March weather!

Yesterday

Today 

The road home was covering up pretty fast at 5pm.

The old homeplace of our late friend Ernie. No one has lived in it for years, but it is so picturesque.

It was quite a snowy, blowy trip home from town, but not slippery, yet. By now (10:30pm) I expect it's pretty icy.

When we got home, the wind had died down and Larry decided it was a good time to burn a pile of winter debris. The flames looked so pretty against the snow.

I also noticed that we had something a bit rare for us: a "blue hour". 

So, here are some random thoughts from today:

I am reading this book, Rooms of Their Own: Where Great Writers Write, by Alex Johnson. It is not the book I referred to in an earlier post about a new book on this same topic; that one has not yet arrived. But this one arrived quickly and I am finding it an enjoyable and interesting read. It's arranged in a series of short, one or two page essays, each illustrated with watercolor paintings. I have learned some interesting things---for example, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle had a French trunk maker make him a portable writing desk that folded up i to a trunk for travel. It is a most amazing thing, complete with a large writing surface, drawers, bookshelves, and a typewriter. You can see pictures of it here. 

I also discovered that many writers had a smaller portable desk, called a "writing slope", which folded up neatly, but when open provided a writing surface, usually felted, and storage for paper, pens and ink. And now I want one! I have actually sold a couple without knowing exactly what they were. Here is one currently for sale on ebay that I am lusting after. Do I need it? No. But do I want it? Oh yes. 

Yesterday I learned an appalling fact: during the Vietnam War, young men with IQs below 70 were allowed into the military and sent into combat in Vietnam. They were referred to as McNamara's Morons, and casualties among these men were far higher than average. Forrest Gump was apparently a reference to this practice, according to some sources. The practice was called Project 100,000, and was in place from 1966 through 1971. Unbelievable. I guess this story is well known to many, but it was news to me, and I am still shocked by it.

Do you remember the Chinese trunk I wrote about here a month or so ago? 

I had it in my booth for well over a year, with only a few people showing any interest in it. So I moved it to a more visible spot, but still not much interest. So last month I opened it up and filled it with quilts, and blankets, and it sold this past weekend! The trunk was made in the 1800's, and according to some websites was a merchant's trunk for transporting goods. It was quite large, about 42x27x25, with hand-forged handles and hinges. Online they list for three times or more than what I had on mine (like this one) but I knew my local market would never pay that high a price---and since I had only paid $50 for it, I was happy to sell it for $350. They for a bargain, I made a nice profit, so everyone is happy. I do wonder, though, how it came to the US, and also what it's life was like in China. 

That is the second trunk I sold recently by opening it and filling it with quilts. Both had just sat there for quite a long time. Lesson learned!

We also sold another sewing machine. 

Like the trunk, it had been in the booth for at least 2 years, but last month I moved it to a new place, and off it went. That's the second sewing machine sold in a month, and both had been there the same length of time. I put them in a highly visible spot, giving them one last chance before taking them to the thrift. Both were actually kind of rare machines. This one was bought by a young man for his grandmother; she bought a brand new machine and hated it, but she had told him how much she like ours,  so he bought it for her. What a sweet grandson.

I had a long chat with my youngest sister Julie, whose birthday is today. I don't see my 12 siblings very often any more, but I try to catch up with each of them on their birthdays, even if just on Facebook. Julie was just 3 years old when I had my first son! There are 18 years between the oldest and youngest siblings, and amazingly we are all still kicking.

And lastly, but not least, Larry's hand and elbow surgery has been postponed. He had a tiny little stroke back in August that he wasn't even aware he had had, but it showed up in tests,  so the VA wants to do more evaluation before going ahead. Actually, it's a relief, as he had things he wanted to get done before having his arm immobilized for a month. So we have time to do the outside stuff like get the mulch down, the garden plowed, and the grass cut, all of which we would not have been able to do with this week's crazy weather. So we will have time now, I think, which is a great stress reliever for me since I cannot run the tractor or the riding mower. 

And I think, finally, that that's all for tonight! Sleep tight, all!

Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.