Laural Winter

Saffy's Angel

Saffy’s Angel by Hilary McKay introduces the reader to the Casson family. They are a British family that live outside of London. The main character of this first book of the series, Saffron Casson, learns she is adopted. Her mother died in a car crash.  Her grandad brought her to her aunt Eve’s family from Siena Italy. Saffy is rather upset.  She wants to find out what she can about Siena.  And she really begins to wonder if she’ll ever fit in.  Take an adventure with Saffron you won’t regret it! 

The Casson family consists of:

Eve and Bill Casson-parents, painters.  Bill is an “authentic” painter who lives most of the time in his studio in London.  Eve is a painter who paints in the family shed while mothering the children at the same time.   

Cadmium Casson is the eldest daughter.  She is trying to learn to drive and pass her exams.

Indigo Casson is the only brother in his tweens.  He is frightened and working to overcome his fears. He wants to be a Polar explorer.

Rose Casson is the youngest.  She starts out an infant troubled with illness but grows into the most robust character in the family.  Really, I think she is my favorite character because she starts to give their father the hard time he deserves!

Try the series-Indigo's Star is the next title in the series.  I look forward to the next few weeks of reading with this series in my reading pile.

Happy Holidays!

There's a poem in there somewhere.  I think there's a whole poem about the bandaid above my right knee.  Then there's my folded hands.  Oh I was way into go-go boots just so you know.  Kisses to you and yours!

Tuesday Poem-Don't Wanna Get Outta Bed-Dating

Remember dating?  Remember thinking you fell in love? I remember thinking I fell in love. I had a starter relationship from 19-25 years old.  I started dating at 25 years old until I met Peter again at 31 years old.  Boy was dating a rollercoaster!  I met some wonderful people.  Though I broke my heart quite a few times.

Don't take for granted the fact that you aren't dating right now.  If friends seem whiny because they are dating remember dating is hard.  Sometimes dating is wonderful and much of the time dating can SUCK! Reach back into your dim memory. Remember the sucky part of dating.

Don't Wanna Get Outta of Bed

I

always

always

no

matter

the

pain

try,

try

hard

to

be

optimistic.

But

sometimes

I

feel

I

am

weighted

with

becoming

faithless

from

the

phrase

love stinks.

I love to ride my Bicycle

I commute to work via my bicycle. I also do errands in our neighborhood by bike. I love it!  I feel like I am flying on it.  It is lightweight compared to my old blue Schwinn.  Sunny morning rides to work are the best.  They totally lift my mood.  Sometimes I sing to myself on the bike.  Sometimes when I ride home I run into Peter and we ride home together.  That is so KEWL!  (I was told by a teen recently that is how you say and spell cool).  Riding in drizzle is okay too because I have fenders on my bike. I just thought you should know I am a cyclist. Do you ride?

PS. The red wall behind my bike is our dining room wall which we finished painting is Behr paint Licorice red.

Correction: we went to North Plains for our tree not White Plains.

Part Two

This is part two to the last posting.  There is no poem in this posting.

So I have an uneasy relationship with consumerism but I love Christmas trees.  I love the scent.  I like how they look.  I like having some rituals. I like that they are an Oregon product.  I especially liked the Oregon product part of the bargain this year.  Peter and I drove out to White Plains.  We went to the Loch Lolly Tree Farm. It is near Dixie Mountain.  That's poetic.  There were farmlands and rolling green hills-lovely.

We brought a thermos of hot chocolate.

We found a nice noble fir and Peter cut it down.  It took minutes to cut it down.

I was all ready to rush off.  But Peter reminded me that we had hot chocolate.  We also had a sunset.  We stopped and smelled the roses. He's smart that way.

Tuesday Poem -shadowlands IV

Peter and I had a lovely day together yesterday.  We started out at IKEA.  I have a ambiguous relationship with nice stores.  I like them. I like finding things affordable and easily but at the same time I worry about fair trade, employee working conditions, and consumerism.  I have problems with being a consumer of mass produced products.  That said I like IKEA showrooms because they are inspiring especially to the new homeowner in me.   Part two of this posting will be about stopping to smell the roses with Peter.

Poem:

Shadowlands IV

Who is to say

where personal boundaries lie.

Our cultural upbringing usually has a casual disposal for our boundaries.

Everybody else has theories on what is good living.

Everybody else usually can you all about it through a free free pamphlet they hand us.

Time is money I want to say.

Pay me to read your pamphlet.

Pay me to pour more media garbage in my head.

Free free

time is money

through personal calls to our homes

through constant shiny papers that appear in our mailbox everyday.

Polluting our minds and lands

for a deal.

Selling our souls

because we let them.

Because we didn't know any better.

Where has Respect gone?

I saw it flying down some alley

shrieking as it blew past me.

I wanted Respect to take cover.

I wanted to help it out.

I saw what I thought were people chasing Respect.

Tugging on its clothes.

They were shouting all at once.

"You won the condominium!"

"We can give you 10,000 minutes for $29.99 a month."

"Try our pizza it's the BEST. It will deliver you to God the minute the melted cheese hits your taste buds!"

"Shut up! Shut up! Look! Look! I have this beer that will give you a hot babe with every swallow of our product!"

"Buy buy! Sell sell!" Baa. Baa. Baaaa.

Respect was pulling its hair.

Throwing its beseeching arms to the implacable sky.

I watched

Voyeur thinking this is better than TV:

this better

better you than me.

This had better make the 11 O'Clock news.

We sold out Respect.

Gave the rights for our boundaries to sales corporations.

They rent the space in our mailboxes.

They pay the dime to call our phones.

They own the time between each breath that is called a show on the electronic stage.

Billboard over our views.

It's the deal.

It's the steal.

You know it.

I know it.

But I don't want to give my soul

so easily:

free free

but time is money.

Don't steal my only precious commodity: time.

Wasting your breath for some sale

that really just soaks our boundaries

our sanity

for a wholesale mass psychosis.

Monday poem-autumn drive

Speaking of driving I am learning to drive.  At forty something years old I am behind the wheel.  I have to say it is pretty scarey!  But I'd like more independence.  I'd like to be able to pick up Peter when he is exhausted from a training ride.  He is a calm and kind teacher.  I really appreciate his bravery to sit next to me while I learn to drive.  And he still maintains his calm. I have a wonderful husband!

The other day a friend picked me up at a busstop.  We noticed a persimmons tree. She wrote a haiku about the sight and I asked her to be a guest poet.

   

Fallen leaves reveal
Tiny pumpkins in the air:
Autumn persimmons

Poem by Kari Hauge and photo by edithannette on flickr.