B o u g a i n v i l l e a T r i n i t y

                   Go ahead . . .

          show your three-partite
                bracts to the sun.

                 Delight the eye.

                       Fade . . .

                    then spiral
                   earthbound.

                Solar-powered
                    pinwheels.

IVORY SOAP

Memories come to surface, when allowed.

As a child, I wondered why the Ivory Soap invariably
would float in water. Ivory Soap, first came to the market
in 1879, claiming to be so pure (99.44% pure) that it
would float.

No matter how long I would hold it down . . . it still
would bob to the surface!

As a young person, I mourned for a long time over the
drowning death of a friend in the Red River of the North.
(The Red was formed by the flowing together of the
Ottertail and Bois de Sioux rivers. The Red River then
flowed north to Hudson Bay.)

I would sit on the bank of the Red- a special place to
pass the time and think.

Of the plethora of soap brands (Irish Spring, Dial, Coast,
Caress, Zest, Swan, Lever, Kiss My Face, Jergens,
Palmolive, Aveeno, Pure-Castille, Lux, Bon Ami, Lifebuoy)
is just to name a few.

For me,  IVORY stands out!

And for good reason . . .  it floats, and floating is good.

                        At times -
                                I still think of my friend's death.

WHITE

Cimicifuga
     still in bloom - even though the 
           calendar says mid-November.
     It's startlingly sweet fragrance
           commands attention.

When the breeze is just so . . . 
     neighbors walk over into our
           garden to
     seek out what
           smells that way.

Baneberry's reddish stalks, 
      adorned with white eyes and
             tiny black pupils, 
      appear to be on the search for
             their former neighbors -

      recently frost-bitten.

Plants with ever-new potential -
             but, at least for now,
      calmly await

             the white flakes of winter.

The Gift of An Hour

The shift from daylight time to standard time in these waning
days of Autumn, gives us the gift of an additional hour.

               And how might you use your gift ?

    You could take a nice long afternoon nap.

    You could bake a large batch of chocolate chip cookies
         and while still warm, share some with a neighbor.

    You could offer to rake the leaves from a
         neighbor's front lawn.

    You could connect with a friend and say
         how much the person means to you.

    You could greet people whom you don't know
         . . . with a smile.

    You could engage in acts of kindness and hold doors
         open for others or relinquish your place in line
         for someone.

    You could make a steaming hot cup of cocoa and
         sit by a window.

    You could take someone dear to you -
         out for lunch or dinner.

    You could begin reading that new book you
         haven't found time for.

                      You could even write a poem - or two !

S O S A D

Can't forget 19 days of
   totally grey, overcast sky.

Curiosity won over waiting
   but only at first.

How long can this go on?
   Is this what SAD* is
      all about?

Is the world
   broken?

It wasn't that there wasn't a
   total absence of blue.

Once in a while, a jay would
   wildly fleet through,
      stopping only to
         harass a few winter creatures
            that frequent our back garden.

All of a sudden, following the
   456 hours of grey-
       the sky parted
          just a bit to
             show blue.

Only to swiftly shrink away and
   close up.

Not until
   nearby neighbors
      rushed into the street - pointing
         away from the earth.

I joined them.

Together, we surmised whether or
   where blue would be
      seen again.

I wished it would return.

Wherever it went
   I will surely wish
      to follow.

Is it too much to have hope it
   would linger until
      the Killdeer
         call again?


                              *Seasonal Affective Disorder

Too Short

I still find each day too short for
all the thoughts I want to think,
all the walks I want to take, all
the books I want to read, and all
the friends I want to see. The
longer I live, the more my mind
dwells upon the beauty and the
wonder of the world.

                                  -John Burroughs

Before One Forgets What Is Important

The writing of this remembrance began with the death in 2002
of Paul Wellstone, his spouse Sheila, daughter Marcia, and 
the crew in the crash of his airplane in a woods near Eveleth, 
Minnesota.

                        I remember the 
                       day of his death.
                    Sunday, October 25
                     around 10:20 a.m.
                           So indelible.

For some reason, I had not attended church that morning.
That, in and of itself, somewhat unusual - being a member of
the choir.

                 I was where I need to be.

                          Upon hearing
                    the news, I rushed to
                the local garden store and
                   returned with a small
                        Red Maple tree.

                   I planted the tree just
            along side our front driveway.

                I planted it in their honor.

                            It's name is
                        Paul Wellstone.

          The tree was planted with care,
                                and I have cared for it 
                                                            ever since.

Where is the . . .

"This is the most beautiful
      place on earth. There are many
             such places."

                           -Edward Abbey

Did You Ever See A . . .

Did You Ever See A . . .

     -barn swallow

     -horse fly

     -flip flop

     -bumbershoot

     -hot dog

     -teeter totter

BONNIE AND CLYDE

On a trip south, we happened to sleep one night
in the same motel that Bonnie and Clyde slept in.
Not just the same motel near Rockport . . . but the
same bed. As I looked up at the nearby ceiling, I
thought of that couple. Did they rest well?
There were loads of mosquitos both outside and
inside the motel. The staff attendant cautioned us
by saying: "be sure to leave the light on in the
bathroom and keep the bathroom door open."

We did . . . and it worked!

Tres bien

We so needed
the rain.

And - it came
in the night.

Gentle.

Over
an inch.

Very good, very
well.

Excellent.

Serenity Prayer

God, grant me
the serenity
to accept the things
I cannot change -
the courage
to change the things
I can -

And the wisdom to know
the difference.

Barn Swallow Hirundo rustica

Swooping,
graceful, low,
flowing flight -
almost always
water nearby.

Deeply forked
tail streamers,
spotted with white.
Dark metallic-blue
upper parts with
chestnut-red forehead
and throat.

A half-cup nest
build of mud and grass
hidden under
eaves of buildings
or under bridges.

One April -
I was out of town,
and found Barn Swallows

in Peru.            

What Goes Around . . .

The old query . . .
      "what goes around a button"
dates back to my mother. She would
ask us kids that question.

We would say "a button hole."
     She would respond "yes, but also
           a goat."

Such simple things
      seem to persevere.

N e a n d e r t h a l i s h

Wow !

Am I proud to be able to trace my ancestry
all the way back to the Neanderthals!  Oh, the
marvels of modern-time technologies. Back as
a kid, my school library had a complete set of
the Encylopedia Britannica high up on a shelf.
It was so out-of-reach that the librarian had to
get them down for me. It was from them - I got
a hint of where I came from. The pastor of our
church said that we came from Adam and Eve.
(At the time, I thought it so amazing that Edam
and Ave were the very first Neanderthals.) 
How special is that?

        Mind you . . .  to think that I once actually
                looked like those folks.

But . . . those Neanderthals. Such foreheads and
those jaw lines. Rarely did we see anyone in
our neck of the woods that looked like that. 

However, there were a few folks that came close.

We wondered how come others in their families
looked like that as well. This was well before we
learned about heredity and genetics in science
class.

            We didn't poke fun at them . . . 
                              we were simply in awe.

LATE SPRING (haiku)

A brisk wind, blue sky
Cottonwood seed fluffs make friends
with scattered, white clouds.

P A T I E N C E

I have come to Southern Chile's
Ortway Bay, seeking
Magellanic Penguins.

I walk the weathered,
wooden boardwalk
toward the sea,
            just beyond carpeted grasslands.

High-tide waves
                    crash nearby.

There they are - among
bleached driftwood and the
continually battered boulders.

Nestled together -
cluster of young penguins,
attired in rock-grey and dull white.

Standing in patient silence.

They await an inborn urge to
venture into krill-rich waters -
and the risk of
being snatched up by roving,
hungry seals.

As night falls,
the young penguins
return to the security of
their birthing burrows.

Bougainvillea Trinity

Bougainvillea Trinity

                  Go ahead . . .

         show your three-partite
              bracts to the sun.

               Delight the eye.

                       Fade . . .

                   then spiral
                  earthbound.

               Solar-powered
                    pinwheel.



-The Bougainvillea is such an unusual vine.
 What you would assume to be its flowers . . .
  are actually colorful bracts. (The flowers are
  tiny and hardly to be seen.) Our Bougainvillea
  vines are in pots and we move them outside to
  grace the deck in the spring, summer, and fall.
  Then, it's back inside for the winter.

Never At A Loss

    Why is it so rare
      for a person to
     starve, while at
         the beach?

   They can always
            eat the

sand which is
       there.

A BLAST FROM THE PAST

Years ago . . . while in seminary in Washington DC . . .
I was standing on a corner with a gang of inner-city
youth in the, then infamous, Second Precinct.

At the time, it was the city's most crime-ridden area.
I was meeting with black, junior-high youth who
lived in the area's run-down tenements.

A helicopter flew low overhead. It blared out:
"President Kennedy has been shot."

The gang shouted at me, don't leave - stay.
They ran off, soon returning with scrapbooks filled
with newspaper clippings and photos of Kennedy
and Cassius Clay . . . their two heroes.

I will never forget standing there with Oliver, Donny,
Sonny, Charles, and their leader JT. Tears were shed.
We hugged.

A tragedy beyond imagination.

F a k e r s

Twaats can be fake,
     tweets are fake, but
          twiits are not fake -

                most of the time.

There can be
     fake twoots . . .
           fake twuuts.

I know all of the above
     for sure,
            because
                I've seen a
                     thing or two.

One thing is for sure . . .
     and Rene' Decartes*
             would never lie,

I think, therefore I am.


                     *Rene' Descartes (1596-1650), philosopher and
                                  mathematician, is regarded as the originator of
                                  modern philosophy and for defining a starting
                                  point for existence . . .
                                                      I think, therefore I am.
                                               

Why Breathe?

Breathing in,
     breathing out.
          28,800 cycles
                on a good day.
Not boring -
     in the least.

Minnesota Fat Cat's Annual Column / Rant

It's that time of the year again. But, this year is so
unprecedented, that if I wrote it up and tried to
publish it, no publisher would touch it. I'd be told
no one would believe it because it was too . . .
       you pick a word for it.

Now, I know it is my public duty to emerge and
check out my shadow. But if you think I am going
to even stick my paw out, you are crazy. It clearly
is not safe out there.

Besides, if you looked out the window this morning,
there was so much sunshine . . . there is no question
about shadows. There is a very large shadow looming
over the land -- the man I wrote about last year -- the
one with the orange hair.

I have been watching TV, at least some of the time.
Don't want to make myself sick (or crazy) over what
is on. Instead, I have put in place some precautionary
measures. I have a new back exit, enough food so as
not to starve, and have stopped my newspaper delivery.
I keep my cell phone fully charged.

Punxsutawney Phil, a couple of DC cousins who live
in Rock Creek Park, and I were going to head south
to Cancun for some winter relief. You know, laze around
on the beach getting a good tan, and sip on margaritas
and those little coladas with the cute umbrellas. But we
decided to cancel the trip. Being brown and not white,
we were afraid of being detained at the border as Mexican
rapists and drug dealers.

Going north into Canada, where sanity prevails, trades the
beach for skis and snowshoes. Not my cup of tea.

So, I have kept my bag all packed in case I need to make a
quick getaway.

As best as I can figure, the administration strategy is to make
even money by being King of the World, alienate all of
America's allies, and use the GOP before they catch on that
they are being used. And climate change is a conspiracy
concocted by all those scientists.

I had been thinking of visiting the West's national parks.
But, I understand that they will be used for mining oil and
other minerals.

So . . . I will hole up, watch snippets of news, and wait for
the house of cards to collapse.

I MAKE LISTS . . .

I make lists, therefore I might be.
                                   -Renney Dee Shopping Kart*

A question from the next room:
                Did you remember to empty the cat boxes?
      Response: Have't done it yet.  An aside: I'd better
                                                          put it on the list.
                                                           
A wonderment:  Do I have enough vinegar to make the salad
                          dressing for the salad we are taking tonight?
      Response:  Yep! Just enough. Good!  An aside: Got to
                                                                   make sure to put
                                                               it on the shopping list.

              A comment:   Aren't lists wonderful !?







                                  *Rene Decartes  "I think, therefore I am."
                                    (1596-1650)

Can I Believe It?

Whoda thunk it! Those lasting words of singer/songwriter Greg Brown echo through
my mind yesterday, as I sat in front of the TV . . . watching the Women's March. (I'm way beyond marching anymore in terms of putting one foot in front of the other. But my heart marches along
with the multitudes.)

Last night, Elizabeth and I gathered in the home of friends, one of whom had been one of the
Parade Marshalls. She wore her pink hat for us. How proud we are to have her as a longtime
friend. A person of like mind, she is.

I remember walking just behind MLK in the March on Washington a mere 54 years ago. And, then the awareness came to me that yesterday . . .

              Our granddaughter was a part of that Women's March,
                          along with her family and friends!
                       Oh my . . . will wonders never cease?

                                       I HOPE NOT!

YOU HAD TO HAVE BEEN THERE . . .

       I had the privilege to have been in the March On 
         Washington. Not only that - but I walked right 
       behind Martin Luther King. I never spoke to him 
     but could have reached out and touched his jacket. 
              We were packed together in solidarity.

No one quite knew what would happen. The Washington, DC
police had been mustered and posted at crucial locations along
the supposed route. The fear was that it would all escalate into
a massive riot.

      Instead, it was an event that changed my life forever.

Two hundred and fifty thousand souls showed up for this March
on Washington, along with me, a rural, midwestern young man.
I was mesmerized by being a part of such a mass of humankind.
As more and more people gathered, movement began near the
front steps of the Capitol. People began to flow toward the Mall
and the Lincoln Memorial. I found myself walking just behind
Martin Luther King, Jr.

Standing near the steps to the Memorial, we listened to songs
sung by Peter, Paul, and Mary, Mahalia Jackson, Bob Dylan,
Joan Baez, Odetta, and Marian Anderson.

King began to speak from a prepared manuscript. At first, his
speech was lackluster - not very exciting. That was until . . .

Mahalia shouted, "Tell them about the dream, Martin!" King
put aside his notes and delivered one of the most famous
speeches of the century. Coming alive, he thundered the words

                                I have a dream.

The rest was history.

It doesn't take much to trigger in me vivid recollections of that
Wednesday, the 28th day of August, 1963. Memories pour forth
as torrential flash floods in a desert.

I had been trying to make sense of what was happening in this
time in history. A student at Wesley Theological Seminar in
Washington, DC, I was so aware of all the protests, boycotts,
marches, and the actual naming of racism. I so wanted to make
a difference.

         That day, social justice became a focus of my life.

                                   *   *   *   *   *

         Having grown up in the 50's and 60's in an all-white
         community . . . only once had I seen a person with
         black skin-color. He was a player on another team
         during a state high school basketball tournament. His
         particular team came from a town just 24 miles away
         from my home.

A Dozen Roses to Remove Winter Darkness

Where will they show up next?
The vase of cut roses moved
from room to room.
They are of the lightest pink with
an added delicate sprig
of Baby's Breath.

Oh, there they are - over by
the window in the garden room
where we eat breakfast.

     Wrong!

Those are blooms of the pink
bougainvillea vine brought inside
for the winter.

Their tri-partite bracts, a trinity of grace . . .
a reminder of the words "I Love You."
And always will,
my sweetheart.

Now,
where are those roses anyway?
Oh, there they are! Next to the clock
on the dresser by our bed.

Tonight, in the dark,
I will gently wake you -
and shine a little flashlight
on the bouquet,

so we see them
together.

Remembering Rachel

Those who dwell among the beauties and mysteries
of earth are never alone or weary of life.   -Rachel Carson
                                                                    (1907-1964)

     Remembering Rachel

       From a
          spring-melt
          water puddle -
              memories of Rachel
                     emerged.

          I met her there
              many times in my
                     younger years.

          She always
              did favor
                     ocean edges.

              Later in life,
                      I met her there.

                                        Many times.

                         *  *  *  *

Rachel Carson was fascinated by the ocean.
Silent Spring is one of the early environmental
science books. It was published on September of
1962 (about 4 months after I graduated from
college). I never dreamed that I would ever see
the ocean. I had lived in prairie land. Then, I read
Silent Spring. Her book clearly spelled out the
detrimental effects on the environment of the
indiscriminate use of pesticides. Her statements
meshed and gave validity to my concerns. I
remember how she accused the chemical industry
of spreading disinformation and how public
officials accepted industry claims without question.

In the 1950's, Rachel gave her attention to
conservation, especially to environmental concerns.
Of course, Silent Spring was met with fierce
opposition by chemical companies, but it spurred a
total reversal of our country's pesticide policy. Her
efforts led to a nationwide ban on DDT for agricultural
uses, and inspired an environmental movement that
led to the creation of the U.S Environmental Protection
Agency.

In 2006, Silent Spring was named as one of the 25
greatest science books of all time.

Just recently, I realized that when we were living in
Silver Spring, Maryland, Rachel also lived there!
Unknown to me, we may even have seen her while
shopping at the Woodward & Lothrop Department
Store.

Near the end of her life, she fainted and fell in that
same Woody's.