When the first cherry blossoms, I feel her kiss my check.
Gold in the Sunrise
When the first cherry blossoms, I feel her kiss my check.
Category: garden
Corrie’s Garden Pictures at Sunrise and Sunset
All the Policies: a Corrie Poem
I know all about the policies:the i's to dot, and cross the t's.I remember well the call from finance about the bill for theambulance.I was not about to payin the aftermathof my daughter's deathwhen she died on that ambulance.It's enough I keep myself alivewhen all I've wished is togive up and die.But still here I… Continue reading All the Policies: a Corrie Poem
In Every Gold, Bright Orange, and Russet Leaf: a Reflection of Autumn in Corrie’s Poems
I felt Corrie in every gold, bright orange, and russet leaf. Six minus one is five, and at sixteen, we seldom realize destinies are nothing more than beautiful orange and yellow leaves cleaving to branches in late October before they fall in a river bank. Sweet sixteen, like fairy tales with happy endings, are inventions of commercials and ads to buy disco balls and dresses.
Meet Me at Sunset, a Corrie Poem
That is why I must stay until, as my daughter says, "Meet me at sunset just as the last colors cross the sky. You won't know the day or time, Mommy, but I will meet you at sunset as the last colors cross the sky."
Never Enough Lilies
Corrie loved all flowers, and John and I each remember her different favorites. She not only picked them, but put on a show with the flowers. She'd ask me to put the flowers in her hair, or she'd do it herself. She'd put them on the grass, as the green was the background of a portrait, for me to take a picture.
Into this Good Earth, Part 2: Ways We Remember Corrie and Each Other
I knocked the soil loose. There is something I have to find, but I haven't located it, yet.
The Need for this Good Earth, Part I
Each day, I did something new. Mostly, I prepared Corrie's garden and parts of the yard for new plants where some were that had not survived the winter. I was not ready last year to fully take care of the garden, but here below the mountain, in the sway of the wind and the sunlight, I heard my daughter calling me. "Mommy, come water the garden."
Our House, Our Story
he land itself tells stories of love and loss and of survival. There is a love deeper than the roots of the trees torn up by the tornado. Lives continue past the human experience. The family of John, Hayes, and I continues with Corrie inside us and on the land.
A Season for Grace
No matter where you live ... No matter what you believe ... I wish you grace this time of year. Some believe in what Easter stands for, some honor other special traditions, and to others, this time of year is simply spring. The beginning of a fresh flower arrangement Corrie's preschool teacher and I made… Continue reading A Season for Grace
Corrie's Season 