Monthly Archives: July 2013

Corn Bread and Tumbleweeds

A family saga with all the usual angst, romance, and conflicts, Leila Meacham’s Tumbleweeds offers an easy fast summer read, despite its 470 pages.  The love triangle of John, Trey (TD) and Cathy rapidly moves from eleven year olds who bond as orphans being raised by assorted grandmothers and elderly 9781455509232_p0_v1_s260x420aunts, to betrayal when they graduate from high school, and finally to separate lives – until they reunite in Texas twenty years later.   A good beach read to rival Thornbirds or Shell Seekers.

Meacham offers a recipe at the end of the book:

Emma’s Hot Water Corn Bread

  • Pour 2 cups of yellow cornmeal into a good-sized mixing bowl.
  • Sprinkle the top with salt.
  • Pour boiling water over the mixture; stir with wooden spoon.
  • Drop by tablespoons into hot oil; fry until brown and crispy; turn over and cook the other side until brown and crispy.
  • Drain on paper towels and serve with molasses or honey.

Not particularly healthy – but tasty.

Emily Dickinson and Riding a Bike

Now another way to relate to one of my favorite poems by Emily Dickinson:

Then there’s a pair of us — don’t tell!
They’d banish us — you know!

In Mary Choi’s essay for the New York Times – The Terror and Humiliation of Learning to Ride a Bike at 33  – she confesses to being an adult who never learned how to ride a bike – a skill lacking in my upbringing too.   I thought I was alone, but Choi’s humorous essay gives me hope.  All I have to do is move to New York City and buy a bike helmet. riding_a_bike_clip_art_19458

Rosie’s Rhymes

Before the Morning

The lonely kayak meets the swell
A solitary world of ocean –
Pink clouds warning,
Seabirds calling,
Oars whisper a hopeful knell.
A powerful calm before
The world intrudes.

Morning Brew

A slow black stream;
Night fences shaken.
Fragrant stead;
Senses awaken.
Coffee works.


Requisite Exercise

Early morning walkers
Invade the silent park.
Nowhere to go
Without confrontation in the dark.

Don’t speak to me or smile,
Curb your friendly dog.
Can’t you see I’m still asleep,
My mind still in a fog.

Is there a beach, a park, a trail,
Where most will never dare?
If you find it and you see me,
Pretend I am not there.

A Thousand Days Ago

Feeling alone.
Thinking back.

If I could talk to you again,
Would you listen,
Or would you be telling me of your woes.
Do I listen
Or am I just thinking of myself.

Death is final.
No more chances to take it back
Or say it again.