Barnacles

NoBloPoMo prompt for today:

Barnacle 3

What was your biggest fear as a child? Do you still have it today? If it went away, when did your feelings change?

 

I honestly don’t remember having a biggest fear. When I was very small, I was afraid of three things:

  1. The barnacles on the trees in Everhart Park

barnacle 4

My mother called them “Barnacles” but now I don’t think that is the correct term.  They didn’t look like the barnacles I saw on Google images; they looked like this one:

Many of them grew on the tall old trees in Everhart Part, the magical park down the street from our house.  I loved the park but was scared of the barnacles.

BP Blackbirds 3 24 13 G

  1. Birds

starling on wire

I was also afraid of the birds who made so much noise in the bushes outside of our house in the morning.

Aunt Babe

  1. My Aunt Babe

She was the wife of my father’s brother. She had dancing eyes, a quick wit, and a very large, loud laugh.  It was the laugh that terrified me.

 

I grew out of all of these fears, and grew into more amorphous ones.

fear   from km fineart

(“fear” from  kmfineart)

The Pity Party was not well attended

Journey shinystarstalkingtome blogspot com

NaBloPoMo prompt for today:

What is the most important lesson you learned as a child, and who taught it to you?

 

We were playing softball on the front lawn of the McDonough’s house one summer afternoon.

I was about nine.  I was up at bat.  I swung the bat hard  without checking ; the younger brother of my friend Maureen was right behind me, and I hit him in the head.

Other than a bruise, he turned out to be alright. I, on the other hand, kept beating myself up over the whole episode.  I was cringing with misery.

Maureen confronted me.  She jabbed her finger at me and declared: “Stop feeling sorry for yourself!”

It was as though she had doused me with cold water.

I WAS feeling sorry for myself; I indulged in that quite a bit, young as I was.

I’ve never forgotten that lesson, though it took me until after high school to let go of the reflex.

After all these years, I still catch myself at it , but I remember those words.

Vincent Van Gogh   Facing Eternity   ( he must have had trouble with it, too)

facing-eternity-vincent

I remember this observation by D.H.Lawrence:

qupte dh lawrence

One of these is not like the other two

One of these is not like the other two

Today’s NaBloPoMo prompt:

When you were a kid, did you want to have the same job or a different job than your parents when you grew up?

Never wanted to have the same job as either of my parents.

She was an RN

ellencch

He was an auto mechanic and had his own gas station

dad  b&w

I can’t remember ever wanting to be anything but a teacher until I was in college, when I was so bored by the education course that I decided I wanted to be a copy writer for a magazine.

So I wound up as a teacher, then a teacher and a Catholic sister, and all the time, a poet.

Anne Higgins reading at the Holy Grounds b&w

Goes to show you.

The Coolest Job

The Coolest Job, or, the Most Cool Job     

banded owl

English teacher that I am, I had to correct the prompt for today from NaBloPoMo:

What did you think was the coolest job in the world when you were younger? Do you still feel that way now?

I honestly can’t remember, other than the job of teacher, which was the job that always attracted me.

St luke school  Anne

Here I am at my desk in 1972, teaching 7th grade English.

Now, after forty years of teaching, although I have loved my job, I find many other jobs more “cool.”

If I had known myself better, and known all the opportunities better, perhaps I would have chosen something else.

No point in doing the “if only” game.

However, I think one of the most cool jobs would be an ornithologist/naturalist – the kind that bands birds.

banding an oriole

Another cool job would be a professional gardener.

Rosemary and Thyme

I have come to love the BBC show Rosemary and Thyme, not because it’s a particularly good mystery series, but because of the gardens which are always the backdrop. I watch it for the gardens.

I would never have said this forty years ago.

Goes to show you.

Monkey Bread

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Treat.”

My list of indulgences has shrunk, due to a medical condition caused by radiation damage, the result of  ( successful) cancer treatment from six years ago.  I live on a low residue diet. This means I have bid farewell to my much loved Mexican food, Indian food, and Chinese food, as well as nuts , fresh vegetables, and fresh fruits.  The consequences of indulging in these are so dire that I don’t mind abstaining from them.

The good news is that I can still eat much of the fattening treats I’ve always relished!

Last night I made Monkey Bread, which is much appreciated by myself and my sisters.

photo from Pillsbury

Easy to make , and sinfully delicious!

The fragrance of it as it is baking is more than most people can stand.

The religious imagineer

Where the fire and the rose are one

Gaudium et Spes 22

by Dr. Larry Chapp

Tikorangi The Jury Garden

Mark and Abbie Jury

I Love To Go A Gardening

Growing Our Life in Northern Michigan

Wonders in the Dark

Cinema, music, opera, books, television, theater

Mason Street

The literary magazine of Newark Public Library

Morse, Lewis and Endeavour

Welcome to the Morse Universe

Shades of My Garden

a window into a life, a conversation with a soul, a gateway to a heart

Slouching Towards Senescence

Aging woman reads, steeps tea, feeds cats and is ridiculous.....

Gather Victoria

ANCESTRAL FOOD. HERBAL WISDOM. MAGICAL COOKERY. SEASONAL CELEBRATION.

Kate Macdonald

about writing, reading and publishing

The Lore of the Garden

Myths, legends, folklore, fairytales about flora, fauna and sacred landscapes

OPreach

Dominican Preaching through Word and Image

My little corner of the world.

Faith, love, and listening to the language of the world.

chestercountyramblings

meandering through, writing about whatever strikes my fancy

maegregale.wordpress.com/

“But I ask myself, What must I do to make my life a true story?”

Jeffrey Levine

poetry, publishing, and mentoring

Creative Spiritual Directions

... reflections to inspire creative spiritual directions ... ... . . . .

%d bloggers like this: