my life source and sustainer is Jesus Christ

Friday, November 22, 2013

Wednesday, November 20, 2013


I used to wear Timex
watches for their simple open faces.
In odd moments
I would cup the watch to my ear
to listen for the ticking
as real and imaginary as the sea in a shell.

     After a few years of wearing a Timex I decided I wanted a watch with a little style and I found a gray and silver swatch watch.  It is the opposite of a Timex.  As it has no numbers of any sort telling time by it is a little chancy.  Every once in a while I miss by an hour.  Unlike a Timex it has no night light, no friendly green glow, so it is useless in the dark.  And in bright sun it is important to be careful looking at it.  The metallic face is a powerful reflector and I have blinded myself more than once.  But it looks good.  

     I dusted off my little travel watercolor set to practice some sketching.  My first subject: watches!
My husband's grandfather's brass watch
I only have a dim memory of my grandfather checking his pocket watch for the time.  He would pull it out of his pocket and hold it at waist level- I realize now that is the preferred distance when you need reading glasses.  My father wore a Timex wrist watch.

This was my husband's grandmother's grandfather's gold watch given to him by his wife on their fifth wedding anniversary. 

Thursday, November 14, 2013


Our Rose of Sharon two weeks ago

I journal about seasons probably more than anything else and probably mostly in spring and fall when things change so quickly.  One morning there is frost and suddenly all the tender plants are brown and dead.  Another day an afternoon storm comes up and the wind shakes loose a fury of leaves.  In minutes they lay scattered all over the freshly raked yard.  Last weekend my husband climbed on the roof to pull the leaves from the gutter where they bristled.  Mounds of leaves thrown down girdled the house.  

It was cold this morning.  Now the little trees and bushes in my yard are bare.   Only the dark purple, wine colored leaves remain, the oaks, grandfathers of the woods.

Winter's stasis is ushered in.