Out in west Texas

On the wide open prairie

Thunderstorms are fierce.

From miles far away

One can observe their approach


But in Florida

Surrounded by lush forest

Lightning surprises.

Rains pound all around

Drumming in relentless force

Crashing thunder booms.

There is no telling

When the next crack will occur 

Heart stopping each time. 


Blurry photo of a medium sized turtle. I spoke to him and he scurried back to the safety of the forest.   


Third World?

I. Third World you might say,

Or developing country

Depends on viewpoint.


II. Looking at my world

With fresh eyes and open heart

What might our guests see?

Saint Augustine, FL

III. Our ruins are fresh

Compared with Antigua’s own;

Centuries apart.


IV. Yet ruins abound

And for many life is hard.

Poverty lays claim.

United States

V. Third World existence

Among First World convenience

Which is most honest?

Spring is in the Air

It must be spring because…

I feel the need to clean something–anything, but preferably something that isn’t too dirty.

My allergies are more active than my bladder. (I’m a post-menopausal woman, so that’s saying a lot.)

Creative urges are tugging at my heartstrings. I picked up a knitting instruction manual, yarn, and two art prints at the farmer’s market this morning. 

I’m actually going to organize at least one closet this week. Maybe.

Love is in the air. Love of napping, that is.


Songbirds are busy competing for mates.

Studly made three trips to Lowe’s in one afternoon.

Rainy days abound.

Winter clothes get put away. Of course, in Florida that means I’ve traded my capris and tees for shorts and tanks.

Teachers begin seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Much drinking is done.

bring me spring on a platter

Flowers don’t bloom for us

Bird songs aren’t meant for our ears,

But isn’t it lovely that we benefit

From the beauty of nature’s ways?

How do we return the favor?

Nourishment, care, and yes,

Appreciation for the gifts we’re given.



Worrywart, worrywart

When will you learn?

Worry does nothing

But lead to heartburn.

Worrywart, worrywart

Will you stop, I wonder?

Perhaps someday when

I’m six feet under.

I spent quite a chunk of the past 48 hours worried that my son and daughter-in-law hadn’t made it safely home from Guatemala. They’d stayed to hike one of the volcanoes, and instead of flying home to the U.S. on Sunday with the rest of the family, they had plans to fly out on Wednesday. 

The last message received was a Facebook post saying they were enjoying a final meal in Antigua on Tuesday night. Then nothing. So last night I began texting. Nothing. This morning I began calling. Nothing.

I have a vivid imagination. Women with vivid imaginations should never be left alone for too long. Here’s one of the many scenarios I imagined:

Following that final Facebook post my son was knocked senseless in trying to thwart a kidnapping attempt on his wife. The kidnappers had my daughter-in-law and had taken my son’s phone, identification, passport, and all of his money. When he awakened he had amnesia and was wandering around Antigua begging for spare change.  

I called the airline and learned that the couple had boarded their flight. Of course then I wondered if perhaps someone had stolen their passports and flown home in their stead. 

There was no rest for me until my daughter-in-law’s sister sent a message saying the couple had returned and were thoroughly buried under piles of makeup work.

Now my imagination is working on ways to torture my son for not getting in contact with me. Let’s see, thumb screws ought to do the trick.

This was the photo I could have shared with the authorities.


Daughter-in-law Liz with Fuego in the background.
Son Jason holding up thumbs for the torture device.

Peace, People

Ode to Bed

Oh my bed, you dearest place

You cradle me with skill and grace.

How sad I am to leave your charms

When my clock sounds strident alarms.

Please let me be with you all day

For sound asleep I’ll gladly stay.

Safely within your covers wrapped

I have the perfect day all mapped.

Sleep ’til noon, and then I’ll wake

To eat a bite for my health’s sake.

Then back to you for afternoon’s rest

Snuggled deep in blanket’s nest.

Awaken to read a chapter or four

When my eyes droop I’ll sleep some more.

By evening I’ll be fresh as a daisy

Having spent my day being oh so lazy.

Oh bed how sad that we must now part

Just know you’ve a special place in my heart.


Peace, People.

Adios Antigua

My time in La Antigua de Guatemala was much too brief, but returning home to Studly and the Estados Unidas de Norte America was sweet.

Just a few images of the people and places that made my visit to Guatemala muy especial:


One of the many skilled weavers plying her craft.  

  At Hobbitenango–my new nephew looking very much like a hobbit silhouetted in the doorway of the tavern.

  Next time your children complain about doing chores, show them this.


Beto and Hanna.😍


Iglesia de Catedral.

Cerrito San Cristobal patio dining with a beautiful view of one of the four volcanoes.


Leo, stealer of hearts.


Ruins in Antigua.


One of these three is my son posing at theCasa Santo Domingo.


Sunday brunch with the family at the Casa Santo Domingo. This hotel/conference center is a must-see, having been built to beautifully incorporate the ruins of a monastery.


Wedding guests enjoying the view from the upper deck at Hobbitenango.




My son, daughter-in-law, and me awaiting our shuttle to the wedding. 

Antigua is an ancient city. Many of the streets are narrow and teeth jarringly cobble-stoned, yet the entire city has free wi-fi.

Motorcycles and scooters almost outnumbered cars. 


There are only two things about travel to Guatemala that I won’t miss. The first is having to use purified water for brushing one’s teeth. Bottled water (agua pura) was readily available, but I accidentally brushed with tap water a couple of times. I haven’t died yet, but the day is still young.

The second thing I won’t miss is the method used to dispose of toilet tissue. In most places one cannot flush the tissue; it must be placed in a trash receptacle beside the toilet. For most of us it is an automatic reflex to simply drop used t.p. in the toilet bowl. I’m going to admit right now that I did not fish out the tissues I accidentally dropped into the bowl.

Those were mere inconveniences, though. I would gladly be inconvenienced again.

Peace, people!

Birds of Antigua Haiku

Is it possible

That the birds of Antigua 

Speak fluent Spanish?

Their songs hold a hint:

Trilling softly rolling rrr’s

And calling !aqui¡

One, I swear sings out

¡Buenos dias, mi hija!

Upon meeting me.  

Peace, People!