Sept 2023

Sunrise...  Moonset... 
One season following another...

Thursday morn greets both
Rise and set…
And my westward view 
Is multiplied
In heaven’s splendour.

As you know by now,
I always see the sunrise
Reflected back to me
On the buildings
Across the Don River
From my 18th-floor aerie.
But Thursday's sunrise
Underlines this moon's
Setting.

This moon is 
Both blue and super.
With my continuing obsession 
With the colour blue,
I’d like it to be actually blue, 
But, alas, a blue moon
Is not at all blue… 
In hue.
You know the expression,
“Once in a blue moon?”
This is simply the olde timey
Designation for 
Any second full moon
Within any given month.

But this blue moon
Is also super.
That part refers to
The distance of the moon
From the earth.
Because the moon’s orbit
Is an oval, which means that
The earth-to-moon distance varies
And because of that the moon
Appears to us as changing size
We simply see the moon
As hugely bigger.

Scientists apparently
Don’t all agree
On what the distance
Must be to qualify as super,
But this blue moon qualifies
To everybody.

The next time the moon
Will be this close to the earth
Will be on 5 Nov 2025…
And this will be the last
Super blue moon until 2037.

I can hardly wait!

...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

Aug 2023

Lush... A richness in so many ways...

Grandson Lucas and his sweetie Lauren
Both graduated from university
This just-past spring.
After a trip to Halifax
They decided that’s where they
Wanted to make their first home
Together.
They are now each employed
At their first grown-up jobs…
Lucas writes remotely
For The Peak, a daily newsletter
That focusses on Canadian business
And the international news that affects
It—and therefore—us.
Lauren has found work in Halifax
And come September they move
From temporary summer digs
Into an amazing apartment
That’s part of a house built in 1870!

The day in this pic,
Lucas and Lauren strolled
Among these rich greens of
Cape Breton National Park…
Where they found this gushy waterfall.

Theirs is a life filled with
The lushness of nature
And of youth and of the promises
Their lives hold
For them…
And for the rest of us.
Because as family…
And friends…
And even
As friends of friends.
We can all rejoice
In our own reflections
Of their lush experiences.

I say,
Hooray!
I am such a lucky
Nana Bee!
...
     FYI, my still-new post-cataract eyes
     That continue to be amazed
     By all things blue…
     Also relish wallowing
     In the copious greens
     That keep viing for my attention…
     Just in case you haven’t noticed
     In many of my recent calendars.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

july 2023

 

Crookneck Squash Grows in Texas...

I’ve been in Toronto
Since 1976
And I no longer
Live without tacos
Or okra.
For about 10 years
I could even get
Gebhardt’s Chili Quik
At Kensington Market…
But since that ended
The internet provided me
With a recipe I can make
For myself.
I even have places to get
Mexican chorizo
And real corn tortillas…
Even masa harina
Should I want to make my own
Using my cute red tortilla press.
And I can even get Texas-style BBQ
Delivered to my door!

But one of the things I
Continue to miss is
Yellow crookneck squash.
Like these that Phoebe’s sister Sally
Still grows at her
East Texas home.
These blossoms will very soon
Erupt into buttery yellow goodness
Like this

 

My mum used to slice them
And steam them
And serve them with a bit
Of freshly squeezed lime juice.



One day in 1962
I played with my food…
Sketching what became
This cast sterling silver pendant.



Oh, Toronto…
Please tell me where I can get
Me some yellow crookneck squash.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

For Teresa

 

Teresita Patricia Gonzalez Magnon
March 17, 1949 ~ June 27, 2023

Noren: indigo


Split curtains from Japan,
Hang in doorway.


Custom dictates that


We bow as we pass through...
Show respect for


Place left behind…
And place entered.


In response


Noren sway in breeze...


Give visual evidence


Of our journey.

Teresita, you have been


The warm breeze


To the noren of my life.


Each time we met


I was refreshed and renewed...
I was nurtured and ennobled...
I was affirmed and valued.

With you I found


Inspiration and joy.
We shared our interests
In books, movies, and TV shows.
Through you I learned
Of the plight of those
You were committed to helping
All over the world.

Teresita, you personified
Hope and confidence
In life’s infinite capacity
To renew itself...
And not always to take
Itself just too, too seriously.

Thank you, my dear, dear amiga.


We are all humbled by your
Passing breeze.

~

Bette Forester


Toronto, 1 July 2023

~

Image: Summer Delight

by Teresa Gonzalez

Acrylic on Canvas

2019

 

June 2023

 

Lush paradises invite... lure...

To celebrate a major milestone
Peter and Lisl journeyed first
To Windsor to attend,
Not a coronation, but a wedding...
And thence onward
To a fortnight in Mallorca...
For promised languishing
In a lush paradise.
Of course their home in Barbados
Is its own brand of lush paradise.
This pic shows us new definitions
Of lush and paradise...
It’s all lush… and all paradise…
Just with its own delights
And history spread out
For fresh discoveries
Each day.

I challenged OpenAI
To write me something
About this courtyard
In Peter’s and Lisl’s
Air-BnB home in Sóller
Where they sipped morning coffees
Near their own pool.
Lush paradise, indeed.

OpenAI spewed out reams
But I’m particularly
Entranced with these lines:

     In Mallorca's sun-kissed embrace,
     Lies a realm of beauty and grace,
     Where courtyards bloom in vibrant hues,
     Amidst lemon trees and terra cotta views.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

May 2023

 

My dad, an apprentice in Puebla...

Sometime around 1970
My father discovered gemstones.
His job involved lots of
Road travel in Texas and
He rejoiced in all his finds,
Whether roadside or
Local rockhound shops
That he found dotted around
His wide-ranging territory.
He built himself
A little backyard shed
Under a big pecan tree,
But he added air-conditioning, of course…
This was San Antonio, after all.

He equipped his shed
With polishing equipment
And cutting equipment
And produced mounds
Of beautiful shiny ovals
Ready to be mounted
In pendants, or rings,
Or belt buckles, or bolo ties.
He learned a lot from asking others
And from the library…
Eventually, he decided
He wanted to learn how to set
His own stones. He wanted
To learn silversmithing.

Now, Mexico has oodles
Of talented silversmiths,
And Puebla is perhaps
The largest concentration of them.
So my mum, who spoke fluent Spanish,
Found a silversmithing place
In Puebla who agreed to take
My dad on as an unofficial apprentice.
Did I mention that this dad of mine
Spoke almost no Spanish???
Anyhow off my parents went
For two weeks in Puebla,
Where my mum would drop
My dad off each morning, then
Return at lunchtime, and again
At end of day.
During the day my dad would
Follow example instructions
And when my mum came
She would translate for
Both my dad and his teachers.
Seems the Puebla guys
Loved my dad…
Not a surprise, he was
Infinitely lovable.

He learned loads and returned
Back home and work.
On the weekends at home, he loved
His time in his shed.
The next year they did
Another fortnight in Puebla.
This time he learned
About casting and added
A centrifugal casting machine
To his shed’s equipment.
Seems dentists use the same machines.
He loved casting and he started
Branching out into some
More designer-type options…
Some which I still wear
With joy and pride.

When my dad passed
My mum sold most of his
Remaining gemstones
And gave me a cool collection
Of what was left.
You see some of them here,
In an African stone bowl
With a carved turtle that guards
The bright shiny treasures…
He’s always happy
When I stop by and
Run my fingers through them…
And remember my daddy.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course

April 2023

 

March just seemed to ooze away...

No lions.
No lambs.
But the month this year
Was filled with lotsa
Rampaging lions…
And some
Gently portending lambs.

My balcony Buddha,
Has watched with
Shivering determination
And hopeful delight.
Now backed by netting
Installed to protect him…
And my table…
And my rocking chair…
From pigeons.
The interstices seem
To invite some bullet journalling
Above the rail
And some graphed diagramming
Below the rail.

Maybe my balcony Buddha
Wants us all to notice
More about our daily worlds
And to jot down our observations
To give voice to our eyes.
...
If this isn't nice, what is?
              ~ Kurt Vonnegut, of course