with a doorbell pulled I remember you always there thoughts tarnished brass etched upon childhood above Oregon grape twisted chords together chimes toll time notes love letters symbols cracked silence rings an open door invites embrace acceptance belonging like a doorbell Grandma I hear. ∞ Submitted as part of “National/Global Poetry Writing Month” (#NaPoWriMo…
Ekadent
Ekadent the child in her unwinds the wool of words solitaire hummingbirds hover as she plays upon a butterfly table history bookworm devours the unbroken spines of libraries cookies a girl-guide hand reaches into depression glass friendship pilgrims ring brass bells through the Oregon grape trumpets big band jazz carpets lazy story-telling afternoons grammar disciplines…
My Cherished Canadian Recipe … My Grandma’s Soup
My Grandma nourished me. When she passed away seven years ago, she left a hole in my world; and much like the hole left in Haida Gwaii’s Cathedral Forest when its giant Golden Spruce was tragically removed, a space nonetheless remains even while on its verges new growth finds space. I have survived, even thrived,…
My Grandma’s Hamburger Soup (De/Re-constructed)
There is comfort food … and then there is food that loves. As you will read in my next post (tomorrow’s installment in the Canadian Food Experience Project), this is the most cherished Canadian recipe I know. It is a part of me, part of my family, part of my heart. Recreating this dish, however,…