The sun sets in the chill air of this March night. The cold air dancing outside finds me struggling to use the word spring. Though the current temps lead us to question the “spring is here” statement. The skyline however, screams loudly in what can only be described as a spring sunset. Have you noticed that as spring takes its reign on the sky the winter colors of sunset have too disappeared. Now the sunsets though engulfed in a winters nights air have more color and life. If I may they now carry the colors of Easter and babies rooms. The softest of pinks and blues now wait in the sky line. Soft Easter colors that wait to fade into the darkness of night. It is these colors that make us feel renewed. To see the sun setting into a cotton candy colored sky. A warm tea with the captain as I set on my back porch. Both drink and the comfort of my faded leather jacket keep me warm in the cold air. It is nights like these that naturally draw us to stay up later. Each one of us fighting to surrender the beauty of the day to sleep and darkness. Though my thoughts struggle to think of other things my body soon surrenders to the soft colors of the sunset. The cold air now replaced with the captains touch and the old leather that has shielded me for years. With the last drag of my cigarette I stand to go inside.Tonight I will dream of Easter egg clouds and the spring flowers that will soon adorn my yard. From my window it will look as if it were dressed in the most elaborate of Easter attire. Tonight as I walk inside and lock the door I feel the comfort of my home. I; like the sun have shown with brilliance today. But now I to will fade into my own sunset and dream till morning calls to me from my window. With the good lords blessings I will awake to the rustling of family and the sun in my eyes. Good night friends and loved ones. Stay warm and prepare to wake to the beauty of another spring day ! Land of Rose



Signs of change, you reach ages or stages in life where you feel settled. You wake to the morning with a comfortable “life”. Whether blessed with the love of person or pet you live each day noting that all is good. This life and moment is all I need. Then you stand on the porch in the spring moon light. As the nights wind dances around, you feel awakened. Is it the newness of the spring air? Is it the guarded relief that winter and its solitary cold has left. Is it the glow off the new moon that sparks a spring nights fire? Options and opportunity’s, when content and happy with things why change? I feel we are beings stimulated and fed by knowledge. Like a spring garden , we must nourish our souls. I struggle to go inside, my grandmother always said” no matter how tired the body. The mind may not let you sleep”. In the moonlight I struggle, regardless of path chosen I want to make a difference. The foot prints we leave should be walking stones for others. I have never been a fan of forks in the road. But as in life sometimes you come to the perpetual version. You reach points in life’s journey where you need to choose your route. Like tonight, I can sit on my porch swing for hours. Though I embrace this nights spring air it will not help me. My thoughts race as so many things run thru my mind. Whats the right choices and in what venue will we cause the most positive impact? Enough, at 50 I should know it will come from the gut. As I put out my cigarette and head inside I look again to the beautiful spring sky. I am now possibly ready to sleep. As with all of life’s choices I will close my eyes and say my nightly prayers. I will thank the lord for what I have and pray for another day to grow.. God bless my friends and good night.. Land of Rose


This is one of those nights when I must question the view from my window. If you knew not the day. you would ponder as to if it be spring or fall. I can’t help but admire mother natures sense of humor. From my window the trees stand dark and naked in the moon light. A cool chill air carries small cold rain drops that slip and slide down the side of my van. The porch light reflects two large Christmas candle decorations at the side of the porch. Were it not for the calendar I would question as to if the goal was setting them up for Christmas. The reality being its tearing them down to store thru the months that be spring and summer. Either season, this time of night calls to my sense’s. Quietly I hope the confusing drizzle would show its true spring character and light up the sky with spring storms. How beautiful is the lighting dancing in the sky to the sound of applauding thunder. Even when the thunder shakes the windows and the lighting brightens the room , it brings me peace. In all its oddness I am at my most rested when the world storms and clatters around me. Well that being said I shall retire. As I head inside there is a slight rumble in the distance. I turn to look in hopes of catching the beginnings of an evenings light show. In the darkness I see nothing but soft rolling clouds floating gently around the moon. I to shall retire to the comfort of my room and prepare for sleep. Much like the moon now glowing nestled in its cloud filled bed. As I say my prayers and close my eyes I am thankful. For both the ending of winter, beginning of spring and the beauty that will soon be fall. Bring deep the healing powers of a spring nights air. Hold close to someone you love and God bless………..Land of Rose

Who cared for her, who made her coffee in the morn. Did anyone take down the toaster and lay out her coffee cup. Something one might ponder, anyone that is but her. In the many mornings of her life it had not been a routine. “Who brought her coffee”, she didn’t realize she was smiling as her grand daughter waited for an answer. Her mind flew back to her childhood. Most morning memories started with the smell of coffee. How odd she thought as her senses caught up to her memory. She could smell , sense and almost live those memories. The oddness though was this. As her memory walked thru those child hood steps she could smell the coffee. Her minds eye looked around the kitchen of memories. The oddness was, that  it was just her. There with chair pushed in front of stove. On tip toe she reached for the old metal pot.
She looked at her grand daughter and smiled. As they entered the kitchen she saw her family was gathered. She walked to the coffee machine and started to fill it. The normal Sunday afternoon conversations continued. With out missing a beat , as was many moments of her life spent, she made coffee. She scuttled to and fro offering the beverage to family and friend. Some where in the back of her mind a smile was triggered, unrealized to herself as she served the coffee.
The morning silence was invaded by the sound of the door opening. She turned over in her bed as the attendant came in. With professional voice the orderly said hello. With assistance she rose from her bed and hurried to shower. Once again a small smile creased her face.” Hurried” has a whole new definition for those that reside in senior care assisted living facility’s. The attendant reminded her to be safe and take her time. As their eyes met they both knew that to be a silly request. They both knew that she would hurry , they knew that it was 20 minutes before her house mates would wake. With hand on her elbow, she walked with the orderly to the kitchen. As in so many days of her life she started the coffee. They would often joke that at her age she had seen the transition of many a coffee machine. In no time the dinning room came alive with the sound of her house mates seeking coffee and breakfast. With aid of walker and or orderly she again sought to serve all that entered.
It had been many years since they had visited, many years since sharing coffee and hugs. Oh she understood, as with many of her house mates their children had their own lives. Many of them had lingered when their spouses journeyed forth. So together her and her housemates shared not only their family memories. They became a family from those memories and the need to be loved.

Today they came; children and grandchildren, cousins and acquaintances. Together they joined to share memories, to talk and reminisce. As is the norm, the choir sang and the minister spoke. There filling in the pews was all those she loved. With an ending prayer and many tears they each stepped up to say a private good bye. Later they all gathered as was the custom. Together they shared food and drink . The hushed conversation of the evening was broken by the sharp tinkling of spoon to glass. The room almost in sequence turned to the source of the sound. There by the glass, spoon in hand stood her now much older granddaughter. She smiled thru tear filled eyes, and  told the group of the question she had asked her grandmother so many years ago. Not many but a few times she had wondered as to the answer. But life’s moments moved quickly and she did not ask again. Now though, she informed them, now she had the answer. She  looked at each table there was food and beverages. Yet no where in the room was there coffee. In mere moments they all journeyed thru their memories. Each memory of the scent of coffee was accompanied by the sound of her voice or scent of her perfume. No one had made the coffee, not tonight and not ever for her. In all the years and all the memories, not a person could recall. Not a memory thru all the stages of her life could family or friend remember any one making her coffee. For a moment there was sadness, then from no where came the over whelming smell of fresh brewed coffee. Though they looked they could not find a source nor any coffee to drink…….   With each journey we leave something, maybe as simple as making coffee or sharing smile.  With each journey,  please don’t let the little things go unnoticed.  Thank those that touch your life, appreciate the smallest gesture and pay  it forward. Don’t let it be said you never offered to make the coffee !! Land of Rose…..

Frozen garden

The smell of baking fills the house, windows cracked the air blows thru carrying the smell of burning leaves. Not a complaint as these are the smells of fall. I have found that fall causes an urge for nesting. There is a point when all creatures of nature prepare for winter. As I walk to the garage I see a scurry of activity in the woods where the yard ends. I open the freezer and tuck in the last of the gardens yield. I smirk as I look out to the yard. There, dancing in the wind are the once beautiful leaves. Once bearing the brilliant colors of summer, they now crinkle as they dance in their costumes of natural brown decay. I though, smirk as I look to the colors that dance within my freezer. The many colored bags of red and yellow tomatoes. A rainbow colored shelf filled merely with a variety of peppers. A few shelves hold apples and fruits. Strawberry’s’ peek out thru a frosted cover and look just as brilliant as the day they left the vine. I close the freezer and head back inside. Today as the weather is more fall than winter I must work on the rest of my baking. Much like the squirrel that reaps the bounty of the woods,I can store up for the winter. I am grateful for my garden, for fall days that I can bake and freeze all the items to see us thru. Chili and spaghetti sauce sit cooling to freeze. A few more items to bake and they to will cool on the counter. In my heart I am proud, the colors and smells of summer will find refuge in our home. I truly believe that if you are blessed with a garden to harvest you should use it all. With two freezers and Gods blessing on our harvest we will relive the senses of summer on many a cold winters night. Gardens emptied and freezer filled, I set on the porch and relax. There is beauty in this season, there is now prepared anticipation for the winter. Enjoy the smells and sounds of fall, bake to warm your home. Rake leaves and absorb the last of falls fresh beauty. Appreciate, embrace and live with nature. The beauty and purpose of the season is endless. Land of Rose

Snow flakes and wrinkles

Single snow flakes pass occasionally thru the light outside my door. The heat of the oven helps take the chill from this fall evening. As I stand in the door way the moon light catches shadows of leaves as they dance off into the darkness. I can’t help but wonder, in the fall dance of the leaves. Do they know the snow flakes that dance by their side? Do they realize ,much like grey hair and wrinkles to me. The snowflakes are the equivalent to both in the life span of the leaf. We both now show signs of the seasons we’ve journeyed thru. Snow flakes to leaves, much like grey hair and wrinkles signal the beginnings of an end. Both natural in comparison. Neither should signal sadness. Both are naturally part of the footsteps of this journey. I chuckle at the rationing s of an old lady. The smell of chocolate chip cookies have eased their way to the door. Seemingly to taunt me as I gaze off into the night. Ha, wrinkles and leaves, such silliness. I, with all its aggravation would choose the wrinkles and grey. In lieu of the short but beautiful life of the leaf. Into the fall night dance the leaves and branches. They becomes smaller and smaller as they break down, decompose and feed the earth,. They become a part of the next season, the next generation. I smile as I realize we are not much different. We to, travel all to short a journey. Beauty and emotions fill the path. Once our season comes to an end we will have left hopefully something positive for the next who travel that path. May the dance we call life touch all venues of nature. May we grow and nurture till within our last season we simply dance off into the night. Riding the evenings wind , bathed in snow flakes and moonlight. Closing the door I just grin, I find myself doing that a lot. For now, till the snow flakes dance me off into the night I will have fresh cookies with my family. I will leave small parts of my beauty in the wake of all I see and love….. Be sure you do the same!! . Land of Rose

I visited a friend today, we sat and talked at her house. This act is rare for me as I am neither social nor a butterfly. I have never been one to find comfort in society. Not even in groups of people that I hold dear do I enjoy long style visits. Much like today my mind wanders as I enjoy the conversations. My friend and I shared the normal, hows the kids and family type banter. It wasn’t long before the (much like my home) complaining started. Totally distraught, was my friend that the big screen H.D. had died. Amidst her revaluations of how hard it would be to replace I was distracted by the 3 children in the other room all i pads in hand. All were clustered in front of a big screen. Beside each child was a dog and cat and 3 cell phones. As she used her new single serve coffee pot I listened to just how bad the U.S. was becoming. I couldn’t help but feel a little disheartened. We may be struggling as a country, but are still blessed ten fold compared to most. Have you ever noticed our dog and cat foods are made from better foods than some countries have for their people. There are people who own more shoes and purses than some people have in clothes. We live, for the most part in houses that afford heat in the winter and coolness in the summer. We can lock our doors and bear arms if needed to defend family and home. In some countries people still survive in huts and can be drug away in the night to be forced into being a soldier or killed. Bear in mind I do not judge, just thoughts that cross my mind. The television sings a sad song in the distance, pleading brown eyes from children and pets. Nations away, live thousands of people who struggle nightly for food and safety. I am so thankful that the good lord placed me here. I hug my friend and make my way to the door. Randomly, as most my thought patterns travel I again must wonder. I know in my faith that there is no difference in the heart that beats in me compared to the women who struggle in other lands. Blessed am I that I was born into a nation as this. By what luck did I end up here? I could easily be setting out side my hut, campfire my only light. A mother clutching her family in the approaching darkness of night. No door to lock nor bed to crawl in. No television to lull me to sleep with the sounds of my children tucked safely inside. I could have been setting with my family by the fire. The only sounds is the awakening animals who prepare to hunt in the night. As I get into my car and hit the radio , I am again surrounded by the politics and negativity of today’s society. Endless complaints of I should have and why not me. Why not me, maybe if we looked at that question differently as I just did. On bad days , and we all have them, change the thought pattern. When you can’t understand why your life is so rough, try this. Why me, why was I chosen to be born in a land of rights. Why was I blessed with the struggles of a house to big. I too hate big medical bills, I would hate it worse if the nearest doctor was cheap but 100 miles away. I hate the cost of clothing and utilities but I thank the good lord I have an opportunity to achieve both. Oh well I must go, like I said just thinking……….Now I hope you are to !! Land of Rose

Her Strength

I see her today,ending the day doing the last dish while yelling for the kids to get along. Those spotted wrinkled hands wring out the dish rag. She pushes the stray hair from her eyes,the color of what ever currently was on sale. Though dyed as often as possible is still remained speckled with timeless grey,and continually found its way from her pony tail to tickle her face. She looks tired, is she or is it just relief,glad to complete another day. Another day that she is thankful to have had. Readying herself to lay next to the only man she has ever loved. She finishes each day with her prayers for another day. She turns and I can see her better,there are no children just memories of them as they have all grown and moved on. They are now in their own kitchens readying their children for bed. She isn’t truly here she is but a light creeping thru the crack of memories door. As she turns and heads to bed it is memories alone that she sleeps with as he has been gone 13 years now. He was her strength, her half , her wholeness. There are still days that she rushes home from work to tell him a joke she had heard. Often unconscious to the reality that he is gone until she enters their home and is met not by his smile but by the endless silence. Much like when a person looses an arm or a leg there are days when you still feel it, like it was never torn from you. You know its gone but like a ghost you still sense it, feel it. A part of you still lives with it. She lives alone at night, we as her children cannot take his place, nothing can. Like his smell I will never forget the way my dad smelled,isn’t that odd. His voice has long slipped from my memory, but his scent will forever be there. What is it like for her,a love so strong so lasting. They were together forever yet not long at all!

As she goes to bed she hugs her pillow,she tells him of all the things that compiled her day. She talks to him for comfort. Sharing the minutes of her day are the only comfort she has. Talking to his memory is the only arms that will hold her. Once strong arms held her at night. Now memories encompass her as his arms used to. Comfort is found in knowing one day they would hold each other again. But for now she faces the night, she says her prayers she thanks the lord for the day she has had and asks that if it be his will she will see another day. All the while knowing that if the sun rose in the morning and her eyes did not open she would not be saddened. If she awoke in another place with the man she loved and her first born taken to soon she would be OK. She would miss us but to see him again to feel his arms not just the memory of, would be okay by her. This comforts her as she closes her eyes. A peace that is as comforting as it can be , as peaceful as her sleep can be her eyes close as she steps into his arms. As darkness closes she is hopeful that the sun will rise and her eyes will open not to the sunshine of a new day. They will peacefully open into a new journey that is walked within the arms of love. Where new and old memories become her reality………… Land of Rose /

Wood stove

The cool summers air surrounds me as I sit on the porch biding another day good bye. In the winds I smell the scent of a wood stove near by. How easily our senses are triggered, summer nights growing up. We were not of the air conditioner crowd! Summers were a windows open experience. Some times leading to a cool summers breeze. Other times you sat near the window praying for any breeze to cool the raging summer air. I can’t help but smile, a life time child of the wood stove. The times of cutting wood in the deepest of snow because we ran out before spring. Occasionally waking up chilled because the fire had gone out. The smell was such a part of you it was unnoticed till you were away from it for a while. The scent of a wood stove takes my thoughts and heart back to him. Wood stove and pipe tobacco, two smells that will always bring comfort and a tinge of sadness into my heart. Tonight in the moonlight I can see his smile. It was always a little mischievous, his deep blue eyes that sparkled so. The same eyes that could fire sparks if you misbehaved. Ironic isn’t it; summer evenings he would smoke his last cigarette and tell us all good night. Lock the doors ,shut off the lights and bid another day good bye. As I to put out my last smoke for the day , I turn to lock the doors and shut off the lights. I call to my children a good night and love you. For these few traits of his I mimic or carry I am grateful. I hope that I carry more than this in his likeness. Though little money he helped anyone who asked. He was kind yet strong ,a poor mans generous. As I lay down to sleep I am thankful for the blessing of a summers night. For memories and the tears and joy they bring. For the man I married and my father (passed on now almost 20 years), both strong amazing men. For my children ,one with the bluest of eyes, two with the generosity and fire in their hearts that would rival his. Closing my eyes I can only hope I live a life helping others as he did. Being the strength or comfort for others when needed. In the moonlight of a summers night and every day that the sun shines I am proud. Drifting to sleep, I bid another day good bye, proud to be my fathers daughter !
Land of Rose /


Anniversary; a celebration of love and commitment etched in time. A date shared with friends and family, moments filled with smiles and laughter. I can remember their anniversary, he always brought her rose’s. Sometimes joking ,sometimes with an edge of grumpiness she would tell him ” why roses, I’m not your mother”. Every year thru fortune and misfortune they held strong. Not at all story book style, arguments were as frequent as hugs and kisses. She always said in all those years that they never slept apart no matter what crisis mandated the day. If one went they both went, an old style love. A warm feeling holds me as memories take me back to anniversary’s past. We talked tonight it had been to long, with a sigh she ask the question that I knew would come. In that voice that is forever mom she says “did you call to say hi or is it because of what day it is”. How do you answer, of course I know what day it is ! This year , it will be 20 years that she faced this date alone. Soon to be 20 years since anyone called to wish them a Happy Anniversary. Trying to speak with voice not breaking I said of course I knew. There are no words from that point that will offer comfort. In her very breath I could not only hear but sense her pain and loneliness. On this night it is hard to relive the many happy memories that were. Hard to speak when I knew that soon she would go to bed. For 20 years the bed they once shared now offers only lonely restless sleep. In the land of Rose I would grant minutes from heaven on these special dates. Just seconds , a mere moment to touch and verify that the journey will one day bring them together again. We talk with polite conversation, the date and what it represents weighs heavy in the air. I can’t help but wipe a tear as we say good night and love you. I would in a flash get dressed and go sit with her, yet we both know that there will be no comfort tonight. Tonight in our evening prayers we will both pray for sleep. A dream filled sleep containing only the most joyful of anniversary memories. Happy Anniversary John and Angelica Duncan. A love worth celebrating…Land of Rose /