Blog Manifesto

Blog Manifesto


This blog is dedicated, as the title would suggest, to the qualities of being young. We are young writers. We are playful and sensitive, fluid and changing. We are unashamed with our art. We wonder at the world, puzzle over the meanings of things and twirl in delight at images and ideas that float by, grabbing at them as they pass. We are curious and constantly inquiring and prying concepts open and taking assumptions apart. We are on the ground, close to the earth. We have bare feet and wiggle our toes into nature. We carry our blankies still and wrap up cozy and comfy with each other and tell ghost stories and shiver at creepy things. We laugh and we cry and we take a lot of naps, drained from our outings and exertions.

We write as gifts to each other, tying them up in ribbon and leaving them around for each other to find, hiding and waiting for the person to wake up and read. Surprise! We weave our stories together to create a bond. One writes, then the other. then another again. We have a shared reality that we have crafted, bit by piece by patch, by string. We write simple, honest authentic things, with our unique voices. You can tell each one of us from the other, without knowing who wrote what. Our voices are clear and gentle and original. We whisper and our personalities roar! Like children, our feelings are strong, our passion for what we write shakes us. We are moved and sometimes left breathless, by our own words or the words of each other. We cannonball into each others spaces. We fall backward into each others writing, like into a pile of leaves or a soft bed. We gobble and grin and ask for more. (footnote kudos to JC)

Then we go to bed, wake up to a new day and do it all over again!

Thursday, September 13, 2012

flowers rofl

good lord i forgot where the damn post button was!! its been too long....



flowers
so many memories wrapped up in them..
i have a strong dislike for some and others i absolutely adore..
everyone has a favorite flower.. well anyone who cares for them..
mine..

the bleeding heart.. not the new fangled hybrid pale pink delicate ones.. i have one of those too.. but the old fashioned deep pink full foliaged ones that bush out huge if you put it in just the right place.  mine is scrawny.  the poor thing has been trampled on .. had insecticide accidentally dripped on it.. transplanted.. and strangled by the onslaught of a determined army of morning glories.  she will rise again in the spring... in a new bed of fresh topsoil and mulch.  and i anxiously await her arrival. 

just like we always awaited the first sign of spring.. when the crocuses ma distributed throughout the lawn popped up out of nowhere.  wow.. i could go through a whole list of 'i remembers'..  just about flowers.

buttercups and herbs and violets and foxglove and most flowers make me think of my ma..
columbine makes me think of goldie..  my great grandmother..
peonies.. my childhood neighbor, janey..
spiderplants.. my brother
lavender.. jenny
daisies.. Bianca.. our whirlwind romance.. our love

this year im planting more daisies.  black eyed susans.. more purple cone flower.. and white daisies.  may our love always be as youthful and fragrant as spring..   
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3 comments:

  1. RosieSeptember 13, 2012 at 10:11 AM

    spider plants my brother. bwahahaaha!

    what flower am I?

    reese is a rose.

    You... you are ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. JCSeptember 14, 2012 at 6:18 AM

    ima dandelion!! hm.. rosie.. i love that dan picked begonia for you.. ever blooming and beautiful. and yeah i agree.. reese.. a lovely rose. :D hmmm.. jini.. an eggplant has a flower.. but i think of jini as a the sunniest sunflower :D

    ReplyDelete
  3. RosieAugust 18, 2016 at 2:19 PM

    JC Are you there? Are you well? I am here 4 years down the road looking back at us.

    Rosie

    ReplyDelete

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