Flowers Are Words That Say, “I’m Sorry!”

My dead husband had nothing against flowers. He simply disliked the words they spoke. John claimed flowers said, “I’m sorry for what I did,” or “Love me now, because I’m soon going to cause trouble.”

Amy maintains the computer part of my childrens’ books and my Outsider Art business. One day John heard us trade survival ideas. In case we lose electricity we should; store food, water, other items, and use a new, never before used, toilet plunger to wash clothes in our bath tubs.

John shopped ahead, and on the next holiday (still feeling traditional flower- type gifts were inappropriate) he gave Amy and I both TOILET PLUNGERS!

John died two years, and a few days, ago. On holidays, when many people decorate graves of those they love with flowers, I splash water instead. John enjoyed a good flower but his passion was his old 1984 Toyota truck. The splashing shapes below and washing John’s truck are words that say, “I love you John. I’m looking forward to being with you again!”

My neighbor Faun brought me homemade spring rolls.
“Enjoy my retired!”
I like her terminology.

Single Pensive in Crayola Crayon

I read Shakespeare’s plays to my children when they were three and six. I read while  they ate lunch because it was the only time those two could sit still. Great literature was new to me so I stumbled over Mr. Shakespeare’s words and rhythms.

Even so, Paul and Anna named our independent, terrier puppy Cardinal Wolsey. One day ‘pensive’ was our new word, and Paul flopped his chin down on top of his fist and called out, “I’m pensive!” Then he slipped his second fist under his chin and announced, “I’m double pensive!!”


Double Pensive

Reminder From Dead Husband

My dead husband once said, “Everything I hear reminds me of me.”

We can  consume all that is around us, then let our bones vibrate to Mossorgsky, next we cannot sit still while contemplating quantum physics. Our energy can be still, almost petrified, while confronting something new. Our souls shrink from bad and our cells ring with the good.  It’s then we are awake as is Sally below.

Grandfather Necklace- Love Is Not What I Called It

When I was little my grandfather hurt me. Years later, when my Mom could finally speak of it, she said, “He was just so full of love. I thought, “I’ve got no idea what it’s called but what he did was not love!”

Years later Grandpa died, leaving me a bit of money. It was a very small amount but it pulled on me as if I was carrying around a ton of contaminated earth. It was the exact amount of a necklace that dangled heavily with glass and metal hearts.

First I grew to appreciate Prokofiev, but now I am unable to do anything but listen – stone still. I can hardly breath, especially to Capulets and Montagues.

Secret of Eternal Youth

My friend said, “Your limitations are defined by knowing which questions to ask.”

But I was afraid I’d grown too old to ask questions. I tend to immediately identify what is presented to my ears, eyes, and mind. I identify it, and I file it away in its place in my mind which is a good thing as far as survival is concerned.

When I draw a telephone pole, I attempt to draw the wood’s molecules spinning together and wonder if the tree’s spirit is still living in the dry wood, but I don’t ask enough questions.


Everyday I’m disappointed when I open my mailbox and complain, “What? No tiara?” So Amy bought me a bright plastic one for my birthday.