I Remember, I Remember


I Remember, I Remember


I remember, I remember,

The house where I was born,

The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn:

He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day;

But now, I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember,

The roses, red and white;

The violets and the lily-cups,

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday,-

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,

Where I was used to swing;

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now ‘tis little joy

To know I’m farther off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

                   ~Thomas Hood

“Springing” into Action




© Jeanne E. Webster. All rights reserved

I cried out to you last night, Lord,
When I awoke with a fright
You sang to me a dulcet chord
And my fears anon took flight.
My spirit aroused with adoration
Your greatness sustains me, Lord
To fight battles of every occasion
Your might is my spirit’s sword.
You’re the joy of lithesome birds
Playfully pecking at bugs and seed;
Gracefully into the air they herd
Oh, to follow them in secrecy.
The field is rife with weeds and clover
Plump honey bees fill their pockets
Sprinkling golden succor all over,
Showing off their shiny lockets.
Storms overnight ravaged the view:
Marinated soil flaunts bubbly pools
Broken tree limbs, bird’s nests askew
Aborted feathered life slumped like ghouls.
Tall corn spikes, tomatoes green lumps
Bashful strawberries hid from me
Brussel sprouts showing nary a bump
Fans of elephant-eared broccoli.
Morning glory vines garnished with hearts
Stretched their ropes into the skies
Clinging, twisting in fits and starts
Formed a glorious, colorful sunrise.
Orange daylilies stretch out like fingers
The hibiscus displays her dinner plate
Hummingbirds dine well as they linger
Bleeding hearts thrust tiny orbed bait.
Rabbits have produced such a nice crop
Tiny fur balls hopping here and there
Moles and voles dine heartily; please stop!
My lovely green lawn is suddenly bare.
The arborvitae finally gave up the ghost
All dried up, painting a brown frown
The black pines appear as if in a roast
Beetle parasite time brought them down.
Home-made suet I hung on the pine tree
“Mrrupp,” says the red-bellied woodpecker,
Gorging on peanuts, he’s a real cutie
Also the hairy and downy woodpeckers.
Yellow finches sporting vivid coats
Feasting on thistle seed in the feeder
Those darn blackbirds are hoggish blokes
I’ll send them off with my old repeater.
My two spaniels and I walk and admire
So many sights to explore around here
Crayfish chimneys dot the ditches of mire
What do they live on deep down in there?

Thank you for your provisions, Lord,
The natural ambiance offers such beauty
My rake and hoe await time to afford
I love the fruit of my labors and duty.
Dear One, You’ve truly blessed my path,
With one very pleasant enchanted day
“Top of the morning to you and your staff.”
Help me comfort others that come my way.

Nature’s Pileups


© 2016 Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved


Earthy barren landscapes smothering awakening lemony daffodils

Too soon . . . too soon.


Water-logged fields of winter wheat checking its soft green blanket

Too soon . . . too soon.


Blackbirds swarming from the skies and asphalting the backyards

Too soon   . . . too soon!


Tulip tips peeking through piles of frosted Fall-fallen leaves

Too sooon   . . . too sooon!


It’s only the month of March!





Mothering Memories



Girl Blowing on a Dandelion --- Image by © Royalty-Free/Corbis

© Jeanne E Webster. All Rights Reserved.


Do you ever have memories that poke a hole in your sunny-day balloon, sucking joyful moments forth with heart retching thuds of regrets?    Yea, sure you do; everyone does.  A single dandelion in May can move torrents of tears from the bottle of hidden hurts.   Yes, a single flower.  You don’t call a dandelion a flower?  Ok, how about a blossom?  I say, anything that breaks winter’s bleakness is a blossom, a flower.  But oh, what a blossom this was!  It drew the attention of Annie like a hound to a hare.  She couldn’t leave it alone; she just had to pick it, take it home to her mama.  In her mind, her 5 year old mind, that dandelion was the prettiest thing she had ever seen.


Poking up from the dingy freeze-dried grass in the old apple orchard, the buttery globe beckoned to the frolicking girl.  She scampered over to the lone flower and swiped it from its tall green stem, a smile wrinkling up her blushing, freckled face.  That was her final act–her short life had ended.


She had lost her balance while turning towards the house and was swallowed up in one gulping burst of air rising from an old well left uncovered so many years ago.  Her slight willowy body was found two days later, her chubby fingers still clutching the dandelion.  Her mother knew at once what had transpired that day; her little Annie had found a flower for her.  If only she had gone with Annie to search out some treasures, if onlyif only.


Why did that dandelion pop into view from the entire realm of their surroundings?

Why hadn’t they been told about the uncovered well when they bought the place last winter?


Memories haunt us as nothing else does all our live-long days.  How tightly woven are our days.  The hours, minutes and seconds, all fit together like a new suit.  We are gifted with a new cover each day.  The question is what to wear.  All too often we dwell on the suit that was cast off yesterday.   In all reality we can’t wear it; it doesn’t fit anymore.  It was made only for one day… then disappears into the foggy dew of yesterday.    We have changed.  Tomorrow is a new day, sporting a new suit, prepared for us by our Creator.


“Learn to put on the mantle of love,

the cloak of joy,

the robe of peace,

the wrap of longsuffering,

the scarf of gentleness,

the stole of goodness,

the cape of faith,

the shroud of meekness

and the overcoat of self-control.”

Select your wardrobe carefully, that you might live in the Spirit and also walk in the Spirit.  Amen

Gal.  5:22-25

Purty Writing


© Jeanne E Webster. All rights reserved and observed

“Write sum’fing purty,” da good Lawd said,
Nuff glum and gloom out dere a’ready.”
So I plopped on my tinkin’ hat…reflectin’
So hard I got tired and went to beddy.

Let’s see now, springtime is here,
Dere’s lots a’ purty colorful shrubs
Forsythia, lilacs ‘n redbuds so pink
Colorin’ the yards like pinwheel hubs.

Yards are full of sparkly dashin’ birds
All decked out in nature’s brite hues.
Courtin’ one ‘nother, startin’ families
Dey got no time fer chasin’ da blues.

Red-breasted robins, how stout they be
A’building nests and gobblin’ up worms;
Thru wedder so cold or floodin’ as seas
Dey fights back like fightin’ some germs.

Look ‘it da lil’ squirrels a’flippin’ der tails
Hurryin’ here an’ dere like hopscotchin’ toys
Dey start–dey stop–den skitter up a tree
Wid a sassy attitude sorta like lil’ boys.

Bluejays do lots of screechin’ ‘n hollerin’
I tink dey jes’ like to boss everything aroun’
Maybe dey’s the neighbo’hood policin’ men
Flittin’ here and dere from trees to da groun’.

I can’t fergit dem purply house finches
Wearin’ dere finest feathers of rosy red
Dey brighten up the feeders so color’fly
As dey peck at the seeds til dey’s well-fed.

Well, Lawd, I did my best to write purty today.
No dismal tings, no gloom or grumpy glums;
Da trees and shrubs declare Yer glory
From da sassafras leafs to dem purply plums.

(Where’d You get all those purty colors, Lawd?
Musta plucked ‘em strait from dat glor’ous rainbow!)

Photo: http://www.publicdomainpictures.net