End of January

Our weather, this week, was nicely warm. Today, however, was more chilly and crust formed over the remaining snow (which still is more than ankle deep). I made a gesture toward firming a path from the back door to the gazebo. If the week is sunny, I will take the laptop to the gazebo for a while each sunny afternoon to be able to spend my writing time out of doors.

I am quite tired of being ill, and I am sure that being out of doors will help me to regain my equilibrium and blow away some of the clouds in my brain.

In fun news, a friend thearanartisan.com and I enjoyed tossing haiku back and forth on her FB page, Friday night. I have consolidated our haiku in order here with a link to her WordPress site. And also to RonovanWrites, whose haiku challenge #81 got us started.

Beginning the third week, this week, of the Prose Poetry workshop under the guidance of Pam Casto. Fascinating stuff. I find that there are genre as well as literary pieces within prose poetry and that my interest in them divides along genre lines as well as (my perceived) quality of the writing.

I realize that some of the books I most enjoy are prose poems, almost front end to back. For example, William Least Heat-Moon’s PrairyErth: A Deep Map, a favorite of mine. I think also of the introductory chapter of Ivanhoe, which I admit to not having reread since shortly after college. (I first read it in late grade school or junior high, either before or just after Quentin Durward). Helen Saunders, my English instructor for the class on that particular period of English literature, was aghast at my statement that I did truly enjoy the writing style.

It seems fortunate, here in my 70th year, that I read nearly all of the “great literature” that  was assigned in college before I turned 18. The older I get, the less time I am likely to allot to any one piece of literature, and the shorter the reading segments for nonfiction (e.g., Francis Fukuyama’s “Political Order” books). Forty-five minutes or an hour here and there to read a cozy mystery or historical romance just for fun is not a great amount of time lost. I’ve become a lot more choosy about speculative fiction, quite often choosing to reread favorite series rather than spend time with new books that are not quite at the highest level of gratification. Often I find myself writing, instead. Or thinking…while petting the puppy dog in my lap.


January 26 | Face in the Frost

appearance of a frosty face among the frost ferns
Face in the Window

I did not awake in time to take a photo of the frost on the window, and so I have gone into my archives. This frost face is from this date in 2009. (Aren’t archives fun!?!)

Evidently I overdid it on Monday and used nearly all of Tuesday’s spoons, too. I took a lot of naps. I woke up at 7:30 or so, this morning, even though I took my last antibiotics pill yesterday morning. Samantha (my Cocker Spaniel) was not awake, and so I got another three hours of sleep. Headed for the Toddy coffee, which is in the microwave, nice and hot.

Best wishes for your day!



And then the snow began

When I woke up a little before Noon, I found that it has been snowing. Beautiful! I had fallen asleep wearing an old, short-sleeved T-shirt and lounging skirt. Letting Samantha into the back yard, I grabbed my camera along the way and slipped on moccasins, and discovered that the temperature has risen enough to let me take photographs comfortably without jacket, socks, or mittens. No wind…just gentle snow.

Best Friends

Samantha at my Feet, Not Long Before Her Death

I’m sharing this post from my poetry site, since the first thing I did after taking the picture was to write a poem about it.

“Best Friends”

Bunny, did you knock upon
the door at five A.M.
hoping that Samantha would
come out to play, again?

The door I did not open,
though the kitchen lights were on.
I let Samantha sleep and dream
fond dreams of you and summer’s fun.

You wake up all the neighborhood
when you two join in play.
She hounds you through the yard
and through the back fence, she will bay.

And then I grab my trusty shawl
and hunt around for shoes
and wonder what the neighbors think
of all the noise…the two of you!

“Best Friends”. Copyright © 2016-01-12, by Liz Bennefeld. All rights reserved.

Link to Poem with photo at my Patchwork Prose blog: Notes to Myself.

Frosty Window | Monday Afternoon

frost pattern on the window

On the sick list since late Friday evening/early Saturday evening. Bad cold. And now Al also has caught it. Living on chicken soup?

Al fetched more milk, fresh fruit and a couple rotisserie chickens from the store. Also, cranberry juice/7-Up (childhood rehydrating treat), and both ice cream and chocolate pudding (easy on the throat). We had fruit before we went to sleep. Well, before I went to sleep, anyway. That first 48 hours is rough!