It was a welcome gift to see the sun slipping in this morning as I came down the stairs to start my day.
It’s rays slid through the kitchen, down the hallway, and settled on a piece of pottery. In a few days, the sun will tire of the piece of art, and illuminate something else. For today, it chose this pot, giving the illusion of the sun shining on our earth.
It teased me for a minute or so, then kissed my mother’s cheek. I’ve been thinking about my mom lately, remembering coming home for lunch from school on a cold day like today. I’d tumble in the back door to some hot soup, or a chicken pot pie, maybe some leftovers from the night before. I think my mom must have sent the sunshine my way today.
I thought of her all day and I kept humming this John Denver song.
“Sunshine on My Shoulders”.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=NGC1UjVJ99I
What sweet memories, Penny. What a lovely way to spend your day. The sequencing of your photos was just spectacular. I’m sure you think of your mom a lot, and now we did, too! Debra
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Thank you, Debra. My mom sits in a special spot on the shelf, and, of course, in my heart. She would be astonished to see Betty White today at 90 and loved to watch her and laugh.
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Penny, this is so touching. It’s amazing where a ray of sunlight will lead. I love the sequence of photos, and what they reveal. I have warm memories of my mother’s nurturing too – how lucky we are.
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Thank you, Juliet. It is amazing, isn’t it? We are lucky – very lucky – to have such warm memories of our mothers.
I really enjoyed your reaching, and bending, and dipping and such with the herons and hope your tai chi helped those great creative juices you have flow. I’ve been having a bit of a problem leaving comments with blogspot and couldn’t leave one last night. I’ll keep trying, but, wanted you to know that if I’m not commenting, that’s why. Technology. Sigh.
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Thanks for letting me know about the technology problem, Penny. I do appreciate your visits and comments. I’m in a wonderful creative flow, writing about old age now, and getting towards the end of the book. I wonder what the problem is? I changed to pop up (drop down?) comments because someone said that would be easier.
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There is something so magical – heavenly – about morning sun streaming through the window. I loved the photos, especially the last one which gives me a glimpse of your dear mother. Thanks so much for sharing your lovely memories with us.
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There really is Molly, I agree. Thank you. Ma’s been gone for a very long time now, but it was so sweet to see her getting a kiss. It hasn’t been so long at all since your mom passed away. I’m sure you missed her, especially over the holidays. Best to you.
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Beautiful. The pot is amazing: the association with your mum heart warming. So glad the sun kissed her today.
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Thank you, Kate. Me too.
Isn’t it a lovely pot? I like to support local artists when I can and this one was from the town a teacher at the high school, an artist as well. I really like it and it looks especially good with sunlight on it.
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Such a sweet way to begin your day. Your lovely photo sequence added just the right touch to this post.
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It was, Karen. Thank you.
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Such a lovely, heartfelt post. That pot is really gorgeous, and you’re right it definitely brings to mind the sun shining on the earth. In fact when I first saw the photo I thought it was a globe! And what a treat to catch a glimpse of your mom!
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Oh, thank you so much, Janet. I’ve the pot for a long time, loving it when I first saw it at an art show in Elmhurst. It was made by John Nestor. You may know who he is. That is what I was thinking when I took the pictures. Glad you caught that. Yes. That’s my mom. Miss her.
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I sure do know John Nestor, I took a couple Life Drawing classes from him and now I’m thinking I should have taken a pottery class too!
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I thought you might, Janet. I’ve had this pot for at least 10/12 years. Good for you for taking Life Drawing. Never too late to take pottery from John.
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Penny, so nice to come home to such a beautiful post. The sunshine in our lives (our moms who are no longer with us) will even shine for me on a cloudy day. . . . God Bless Penny!
Mary Anne ox
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How true that is, Mary Anne. Thank you.
I loved reading about your trip, especially that lovely meal. What a gracious gift to you and your family. I can’t think of anything better than to be invited into one’s home for a meal.
I am having some problems leaving comments on blogspot, which I mentioned above to Juliet. I type in the word verification and it keeps coming back saying it wasn’t correct, puts in a new word, and same thing. I’ll try to figure out what’s going wrong, but, wanted you to know I am still reading.
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Loved the UTUBE link of John Denver!!! I always loved his beautiful music
m.a.ox
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I always loved his music, too, Mary Anne. What a tragic loss his death was.
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I love this.
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Thank you, Nan.
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Such a lovely post, Penny. Gorgeous pictures of a wonderful pot (I too love pottery) and your dear mother kissed by sunshine. My mother died 30 years ago this year and yet so many things still trigger memories of her and my father in just the same way.
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Sorry, meant to add that people using Internet Explorer to comment on blogspot blogs are having particular problems at the moment. I now use Google Chrome for commenting because of this.
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Thank you, Perpetua. I tend to be tactile and so love hand thrown pottery. This is one of my favorites, though I have several other pieces that I use in the kitchen by another potter. Okay, my family would tell you I have more than several other. haha!
Such a long time, and yes, things trigger those memories, especially at markers like 30 years. It is good to remember them in the big and the small ways, isn’t it?
Thank you for letting me know others are having problems as well. At least I’m not alone. Misery loves company, so “they” say. I need to see what I can do about it. Thank you for the suggestion, Perpetua.
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I love your photos and the sunshine on your Mother’s cheek. I understand how things can bring up memories of those gone before us. It happens often to me as well. Funny thing, I was thinking of the same song yesterday and even humming it a little. The sunshine can cheer and warm us at any time.
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Thank you, Janet. It made me smile when I saw the sunshine on my mom’s cheek. It’s funny how these memories creep in when we least expect them, isn’t it? I like the thought of you humming mid-state and me in the northern recesses, with us both humming the same song. It was sunny again today, but, very, very cold.
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What a lovely post! The memories and the pictures.
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Thank you, Joyce. I don’t know it is still balmy there, but, 10° as I type this at dinnertime.
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Penny, the photographic images you have here are beautiful, but to me, even more beautiful is your poetic image of the sun kissing your mom’s cheek. Perfect, perfect, perfect! Thank you for a lovely post! ;o)
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Thank you so much, Mike. Your words are so kind and appreciated.
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Dear Penny,
How blessed we both were in our mothers. My mom was “sunny” also. Living with my alcoholic father can’t have been easy, but she never complained to her children about him. She was a woman of great integrity, compassion, common sense, and intellect. I have a dresser that she used and a mirror that was in our living room. So often when I pass one or the other or see my reflection in the mirror I think of mom. She died in 1968 and I miss her still.
Peace.
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Oh, Dee, that comes through every time you write about your mother. I was so touched by your memories of how she treated the hobos. We were, and still are, blessed indeed to have had them. Ma died in 1988, and my dad in 1969. I was 19 when he passed away. I miss them both, still, but, I find that I still am learning from them. What a wonderful treasure to have in that dresser and mirror. You remind that I have a small, handheld mirror of my mom’s. I resemble her. Whenever I pull it out, I gaze at the image and say “hi, Ma!”.
Thank you, Dee. I feel as if we are on the phone talking.
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Isn’t it wonderful, how our mothers come back to us in some simple moment filled with quiet beauty? Beautiful vase. Lovely post. Love that song.
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Oh, it really is, Teresa. They teach us still. Thank you.
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