Archive for April, 2009

Haiku Friday: Spring and Sprung

Haiku Friday

Peeking yellow, red
Tulips break the cold, dark, earth
Yet, still I shiver

Tired of winter
sniffling frozen noses
Grey, slow, roll of cloud

Yesterday, one ray
pierced straight through concrete path
I caught a glimpse: spring.

for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You

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(Almost)Wordless Weds.: A very special blossom

Sometimes, even when (especially when?) I’m exhausted, work-overloaded, multi-tasking, dreaming in a million different directions, I am just struck by the sheer beauty around me.

Washington in the springtime (and the fall, and DEFINITELY Xmas, and heck even summer… sometimes… in the evenings) is just mesmerizing beautiful, in a way that cannot fail to fill one’s heart with joy, however fleeting.

[Photo by KGM on Flickr]

In fact, it’s my favorite type of awe – the one that is found among the ordinary. A journalism professor teaching a class to a group of high school journalists in “summer camp” (yah, I was that kid) told a group of us part of the role of the journalist is to “make the ordinary extraordinary.” Life can do that sometimes.

Question/Thought/ Prompt: What are the moments / sights/ experiences that turn ordinary into extraordinary for you? That cheer you from gloom, inspire or afflict you?  Post a comment and/or write /show me on your blog (just be sure to come back and tell me about it.)

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The last mailbox : question/prompt

I’ve been thinking today about disappearing mailboxes. USPS mailboxes. They’re fading.

[“Lonely mailbox” by dsaint on flickr]

ML was the first to point this out to me, when they came and dug up the one around the block. Then I carried a netflix rental into the grocery store to ask for their mailbox and found, nope, they didn’t have one either. Nor did the plaza with the CVS, or the spot over by the library.

Of course, my office has one but it made me think about supply and demand and the lost art of letter-writing. And that made me sad, though I’m as guilty as anyone. Heck, writing email seems too slow, writing a letter brings to mind molasses and boots in a windstorm.

And yet… letter writing is how I connected to my pop-pop, as a teenager who’d just lost her dad: finding a surprising and much-needed friend. Letter writing is how I communicated with first loves  and last loves, when I wasn’t brave enough or wanted more permanence than spoken words would allow. Letters are how to say thank you or sorry or “you’re invited” properly.

It’s similar to my thinking about the kindle ( Kindle 2: Amazon’s New Wireless Reading Device (Latest Generation) : no no no, paper books must remain!!! There is something to paper and ink and opening your mailbox to see handwriting, familiar or strange – it means something, more than electronic transmission can convey.

Question/ Writing Prompt: What was the last (snail-mail/real) letter you remember writing or reading? Why does it stand out?

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