Expecting

Feeling soft and warm,
Ripe as fruit in sun,
Full of orbs and circles,
Something has begun.

Fall of tears and laughter
Tender and yet strong
Trembling and fearful
Bursting into song.

Eyes that see forever
Angry with delay,
Patient as the Sphinx
Wanting it today.

History within,
Mother of the world,
Like a little kitten
By the fire curled.

Christmas Fun

I was getting quite out of sorts. My needle was going into my fingers more often than it was the fabric and the three inch high teddy bears I was making were coming out with scowls on their faces.

At this point I heard someone at the door and Krista Beth came in. After some conversation she decided to paint, so out came the water colors and the hearth was soon covered with drying pictures of trees and country-sides.

When the palled on her, the next venture was spicy Christmas tree ornaments that looked like little ginger bread men and women. I got in the act with her (why should she have all the fun?) and we rolled out and patted smooth and cut out until finally a very large family of little brown people were lying on tin foil under the stove and drying.

Next our attention turned to the little teddys. I had bought some Christmas tree ornaments, little red sleds with backs, the kind used to haul small children. Krista wanted to see if the bears would fit in them. I got them out and they were a perfect fit. Of course, her next thought was “snow” so she got on her coat and boots.

Soon her laughing face appeared at the window outside beckoning me to look. Sliding down the snow covered lawn were two thee inch long sleds, each with a tiny teddy steering manfully and coming to a graceful stop just before hitting the stone wall. It was a most comical sight.

Krista’s mother arrived and was shown this new accomplishment and found it as funny as we did. She ran home and got her camera.

The teddys enjoyed sliding for quite a while. Eventually the snow got quite covered with Krista’s boot tracks and the teddys would slide along, only to disappear completely in the boot tracks.

Finally Krista brought them in and went home. I sat back down on the couch and started sewing again. The painting were still strewed about the stove, the sink was full of kitchen utensils that smelled of cinnamon, clove and nutmeg; two tiny teddy bears lay drying on the hearth in postures of complete exhaustion, and my day had cheered up considerably.

Homing

A home like an only bird,
A home like a mole.
How I need a home
To cover my soul!

Home in a piano box,
Home in a tree,
Home in a railroad car.
What will it be?

A calf has a stall,
A fox has a den.
Where will I find
A home? When?

A home in a ball-room,
A home in a park,
Where will I go
When it gets dark?

A home under leaning boards
Out of the dew.
Where are you going?
I’m coming too!

My Dog

All dog owners feel that they possess the world’s best dog and I am no exception. “Twinkie” is Lapsa Alpso and Shih Tzu, half and half, with fluffy gray fur and a shaggy chrysanthemum face with beady black eyes that barely show. Her button nose protrudes hardly at all and she wears ruffled cream colored pantaloons.

This little witch has cast a spell over me. I never dreamed I’d be so charmed when she struts around holding her tail over her back, acting as though she owns the place.

When she wakes in the morning, her little disheveled head appears over the side of the bed at eye level. A grown rises in her throat. She groans until she gets me up to put her out. Sometimes I groan too! Even so, our little girl has a sweet voice that has a throaty quality that makes you want to hear it again and never annoys.

One of the best things about “Twinkie” is her cheerful disposition. She is the same through sickness or bumps and being stepped on, rarely even crying out, even though she often gets to going too fast to make the corners. Racing with Krista Beth, she’s an eight pound fuzz ball flying though the air at great speed.

She is not always rambunctious though she’s yet a puppy. She can be very restful. It’s relaxing to watch her lay on her back holding a sock in her mouth playing with the ends with her paws for long periods of time. Playing another quiet game, she walks slowly from room to room and back again with the socks in her mouth. I’d like to know what she things she’s doing. She reminds me of a little girl with her mother’s pocket-book making believe shop.

Of course she isn’t perfect and has several very doggy habits I’d just as soon she’d loose. Of course I’m sure I have habits that drive her crazy, too. Even so, I’m amazed how well we get along. She appears to think that I’m great and I admire her sense of humor and her irrepressible optimism.

I can leave “Twinkie” alone and be sure that she is entertaining herself as she is quite self-sufficient and does not become distraught when her mistress disappears down the driveway. On returning, I sometimes feel that this independent little home-keeper has had a better time than I did.