Personal Freedom is Vastly Over-rated.

I don’t mean the kind of political freedom that brave men and women are dying for right now, democracy (if such a thing exists), but freedom of choice on a much smaller scale.

I have much more personal freedom now that I no longer have the love of my life beside me,

I am free to live anywhere I choose to. I chose to move to Washington State to be near one of my sons and his dear wife, rather than being tied to Berkeley where Otto had been a professor for the greater part of our lives.

The Entrance to My New Home

I can decorate my new small home in whatever manner I choose. And I have done so, employing more green paint than most households use in a lifetime. I’ve filled it with dragons from many parts of the world, sculpted, cast, or otherwise crafted, and have done away with any clutter that is not self-generated. Gone are the plethora of electrical parts for Otto’s inventions, the piles of scientific papers being written or critiqued, the stacks of technical journals and books, the scattered tools for modeling new improvements of his patents or for making our big house more livable and beautiful. I love making home improvements but must leave it to others, volunteer or professional, since my talents and physical abilities preclude my doing it myself. But I have enough money to be free to have it done.

A Few of My Dragons

I now have the freedom to spend the inheritance that Otto left me on my personal choices, free of the constraints that are imposed by a partnership that tries to meet the needs of two people. Due to that same inheritance, I am free of most of the economic worries of the majority of people.

And you know what? I would gladly trade that kind of freedom for one more moment with Otto beside me.


And, now that I have written this response to the Sunday Scribblings prompt of Free, I find that I am not free of tears.

For more responses to the Sunday Scribblings prompt, click here or on the banner at the top of this post.

I is for Interspecies Interaction

Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday has reached I of the eighth round. For other entries, click on link or on badge at left, and it will lead you to participating blogs.

When we were way back at B, I posted something called Elegant Bears, which my son incorporated into a poster for his and wife Kristin's monthly Waltz Night, which they host and for which they and occasional guests provide the music, on violin (Kristin) and concertina or guitar (Otto) and on whatever instruments invited guest musicians prefer. His advertising posters have always incorporated this great impressionist painting of a dancing couple. It was my idea to add the bears. I decided that the next (April) poster should not leave each species on its own. In the friendly setting of the dance floor, it would be only polite for them to exchange dances. Hence these drawings.

She really isn't quite sure of this
especially after smelling bear breath,
but one has to be polite, doesn't one?

He, on the other hand,
finds his partner an excellent dancer
and is teaching her some intricate steps.

Raw

Intransigence

Take this hideous razored grief
so sharp in every part,
its spines all tipped with poison
and pointed at your heart.

Muffle it with music,
rub it down with prayer,
thrust it out and close the door,
pretend it isn’t there.

Watch closely, though, for treachery
when handling it tomorrow;
a grief is very hard to tame
into a decent sorrow.

Phyllis Sterling Smith

See other responses by Sunday Scribblers to the prompt of RAW.

Volcano

The Sunday Scribblings prompt is FIRE.

Volcano at Night

Edged with living fire
the thrusting molten lava
spews showers of stars.

Elegant Bears

This is my entry for Mrs.Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday a blog that has created a community of caring people. To read other "E" entries, click here.







I originally drew this pair of bears to illustrate my poem Ceremony, and it was printed as a background to that poem in the anthology Roots and Tendrils.


Then my son wanted a few more dancing bears for a poster he was making for the Waltz Night that he and his dear wife (dear to me too), Kristin, put on at monthly intervals. These were rather quickly done (while lying on my bed with the drawing pad balanced on my knees).

And this is the final result.

Bad Spelling, Happy Day

Xmas? I have avoided that spelling of Christmas most of my life, and I'm only making an eXception so that I can show the photos I made on that happy day 3 days ago and can still use that X . Yes, ABC Wednesday round 7 is at X, planning to eXit the alphabet in two more weeks. Check out the eXceptional cleverness of participating bloggers and their eXciting eXamples of eXercising their XXXXs by clicking on logo.

Early Christmas morning, while some of the guests in my daughter Candace's house still slept, I took these pictures of the living room with its lighted tree and the great pile of gifts that ringed it. This is natural dawn light (no flash) with snow softly falling outside.

While there are some lovely gifts in what appears to be an obscenely
materialistic pile of presents, many of them proved to be
joke items or even gifts for the two dogs.

And I had the choice seat by the tree, camera poised.

Granddaughter Myrtle appeared in silver shoes.

And one of Candy's first gifts proved to be reindeer slippers

So she put on reindeer antlers and hammed it up a bit.

Byron opens a gift while his mother, Candy, at left, looks on. Ernie, Byron's lively little mongrel, and Hobbit, the resident dog, attempt to help.

Myrtle looks on as her brother Cedric prepares to open a gift.
Cedric's wife, Susan, also watches.


Susan admires her new frying pan.
The rosettes on her cap were package decorations.

Son-in-law Clinton hams it up with a new shirt.

Compare this with the serene early morning picture...

All was followed by a delicious Christmas dinner with all the trimmings, formally set on the table that had held our traditional Christmas morning breakfast stolen.

The participants are: myself, visiting from Port Townsend
Candace, my daughter, and Clinton, my son-in-law
Candy and Clint's daughter Dr. Myrtle Shock (Ph.D in archeology)
" " " son, Dr. Byron Shock, professor at College of Idaho
" " " son. Cedric Shock, computer eXpert
Cedric's wife, Susan.
Ernie and Hobbit, enthusiastic doggie participants

N is for Nasturtium

Mrs. Nesbitt's ABC Wednesday round 7 has reached N. Click on banner or link to see what fellow bloggers have been inspired to do.

Nasturtiums have long been favorites of mine, at least until invaded by aphids. Way back when my children were young and begging for a snack, I would slather a piece of bread with butter for them to take to the backyard; there they would harvest nasturtium leaves (pesticide and aphid free) to make a sandwich - a tasty treat in which I often would join them. Then the aphids found the "nasty urchins" (as my father used to call them).

This beauty is in a neighbor's yard, not mine

Please click on this picture for a full view of it.

Now that I have moved to Washington State, I can again have nasturtiums in my garden.

Kristin planted these as a border to my walk.
The blossoms are lovely, but so are the variegated leaves.

Some of my language-loving father's other favorite flowers included Christmas anthems. And Spitunias. I wish I could remember more of them!