Laurie Klein, Scribe

immerse in God, emerge refreshed

  • About
  • Books
  • Blog
    • Small Wonders
    • Soul Mimosas
    • Springboards
    • Wellsprings
    • BiblioDiva
  • Reveries
  • Links
  • Contact
  • Press Kit
  • Playlist

LUCKY: Shelf Life, 3rd Edition

by Laurie Klein 25 Chiming In

In this month of cancelled Proms,
the memory of mine, over
half a century ago, brims
within me—mingled emotions
still attached. I remember

my mother, at the black altar
of her sewing machine,
the painstaking arc of her spine,
face bowed over nimble hands
in a circle of light.

A sleeveless drift of floral voile
in citrus colors skimmed
the dress of our dreams—
with a matching stole: “One must,”
Mom insisted, “always be warm.”

Enter the orchid, be-ribboned
perfection, in a windowed box.
“Oh! Lucky, lucky you,”
she cried. “I’ve never had one.”

She looked so wistful.

Guilt churned. Then . . .
adolescent annoyance, alongside
the message: I was adored.
By a boy. Extravagantly.

I felt so confused.

The corsage waited, inside our fridge,
all day, until my date arrived, then
again, for days afterward: waxy, exotic,
transforming our Maytag into a garden.

Shelf life at its most literal.

Back then I knew nothing of a woman’s bone-deep loneliness. Or betrayal. What it’s like, being left for another.

But kids know when something’s amiss. And even self-absorbed teens occasionally splurge on someone else.

That year on Mother’s Day, from the top shelf of our turquoise fridge, a windowed box enclosing an orchid met Mom’s blue gaze.

She kept it for days.

Today, I see the connection, one I’ve long been living—yet missing. For years now, I’ve stashed little bouquets in the fridge, top right shelf. Each time I open the door . . . blossoms! I never remember they’re there.

Gratitude rises to the Creator, then adoration.

I feel wooed.

My mother never remarried. Never dated, as far as we know. She died, during a bygone May.

I wish I could send her orchids this Sunday. I’d say, “Oh, lucky you! Stay warm, Mama. Know you’re forever adored.”

orchid, wiesenfeld

What memorable corsage or bouquet—given or received—maintains a shelf life in your memory?


Perhaps even the smallest acts of love are fractionally akin, in a nano way, to Eternal Largesse.

Let’s romance ourselves and each other. A May bouquet might nudge us to pray for mothers worldwide amid the pandemic. And teens missing Prom this year.

Whether grocery shopping in person or online, add a few hardy carnations, mums, or alstromeria. Refrigerated, they last for weeks. Be inventive, choosing a vase. Or gather dandelions, clover, or wild violets from your lawn or neighborhood tree border. Maybe send up a prayer, each time you see them.

lucky fridge

For more about my amazing mom: Homesick? 3 Timely Ways to Experience Healing Restoration

lauriekleinscribe logo

Orange orchids, black background: Photo by John Wiesenfeld on Unsplash
Wild tree orchid & Fridge shot: L. K.

 

 

Filed Under: Immersions Tagged With: corsage, lucky, May, Maytag, Mother's Day, orchid, Prom, shelf life, warm May 6, 2020

With or Without a Net

by Laurie Klein 8 Chiming In

Is today a good time for a walk where you live? If not, how about taking a virtual walk with me?

Wild, sometimes, the memories that surface.
You step out the door
and before you know it . . .

you’re a hatless kid again, let loose in the meadow, stalking ladybugs, moths and monarchs. In spongy-new tennies, you inch past milkweeds and burdock, dandelions and Queen Anne’s lace.

If you relished this mid-century childhood freedom like I did, half the fun was being outside on your own, green grapes in a pocket, traveling with or without a net for butterflies (made with a coat hanger and cheesecloth). Remember? Let’s go!

Exploring. Staring at clouds.
Sitting on our haunches to flip over a bug with a stick.
Whistling on grass blades, inhaling May.

Balsam Root Daisy
Balsam Root Daisy

Walking without a net today, I take these pictures along the path and wonder (maybe you do, too):

Why do I always prefer a safety net?

Diving without a Net
Shooting Stars

I don’t like living without a net to catch me. Before I can plumb this fear, I see the wild shooting stars: tall and delicate with wind tunnel petals. Their centers are dark, beaky snouts.

Their name alone reminds me to watch for surprises.

“If you search for the little bursts of surprise in your life,” writes Margaret Moore, “you create an entire mind-set change—exactly what the adventurer needs.”*

I’m not very adventurous. But I’d like to be.

Streamline this soul today
like a badminton birdie,
ready to rise . . .

“Finding novel sensations in the everyday hits a mental reset button,” says Todd Kashdan, PhD.**

Wild Camas Lily
Camas Lily

And you—what of your rushed
and useful life? Imagine setting it all down—
papers, plans, appointments, everything—
leaving only a note: “gone
to the fields to be lovely. Be back
when I’m through with blooming.”

—Lynn Ungar, “Camas Lilies”

This is my year to delight more in life—without a net of some kind to reassure me I’ll be okay. Sometimes I question my motives. I take heart from the following quote:

“An adventurous person will always have moments of feeling like a fraud—it’s a sign that you’re creating new roles for yourself, that you’re evolving. It means you’re doing great, passionate work (Kashdan).”

Grass widow and the wheel done rolling
Wild Larkspur

So today, if we feel more like a wheel done rolling . . .

Larkspur, you remind us to keep seeking
the company of those who are still blooming,
as if
knowing some days we feel
irrelevant, relegated to rust.

Or is it field art?

TAKING IT FURTHER:

Amble somewhere this week. Make this outing non-aerobic. Non-wired. A slow roam without a net, soul mesh open to receive surprise. What along the speaks to you? How might this change the way you live?

Laurie Klein, Scribe

*Margaret Moore, MacLean/Harvard Institute of Coaching, as quoted in O, June 2010, p. 141.
**Todd Kashdan, PhD, author of Curious?
“Camas Lilies,” Lynn Ungar, Bread and Other Miracles

Filed Under: Small Wonders Tagged With: Camas Lilies, delight, May, memories, Shooting Stars, surprise, Wild Larkspur May 3, 2016

  • Email
  • Facebook
  • RSS

Subscribe

Please enter your email address below to receive emails from Laurie twice a month.

Your information is safe with me. I will never spam you. Read my privacy policy here.

Hi, I’m Laurie.

  • Scribe for wonder
  • Contemplative author/artist
  • Reader/performer/speaker
  • Imagination maven
  • Biblio*Diva
  • Expert on chocolate raisins
  • Click here to read more.

Where the Sky Opens, a Partial Cosmography

Where the Sky Opens, a Partial Cosmography
Buy This Book Online
Buy from Amazon
Where the Sky Opens, a Partial Cosmography
Buy now!

Recent Posts

  • A Respect for Emergence
  • Alteration
  • Grit, Stardust, Healing Rigor
  • My Christmas in Asia
  • Sustain

Categories

  • BiblioDiva
  • Immersions
  • Small Wonders
  • Soul Mimosas
  • Springboards
  • Wellsprings

Tags

adoption adventure attention Beauty breath change chosen Christmas contemplative cookies delight disappointment Gift Gifts grace gratefulness gratitude hope joy light longing love Magi moose music nest pain peace pearls pivot possibility prayer Risk senses shelf life soundings space star stories surrender transformation truth waiting wonder yes

Copyright © 2023 Laurie Klein, Scribe Laurie Klein, Scribe All Rights Reserved Laurie Klein, Scribe Privacy Policy