Energy of hustle and bustle buzzes from one table to the next Baristas move like lightning creating magic in a mug Legs swing and bounce to rock ‘n’ roll flowing from speakers above Chatter and laughter drift among clinking glasses Crackling flames of reds and yellows tango in the fire-pit, and when he sips, mustache catches all prompting my imagination to a beige caterpillar resting on his upper lip My chai, sweet perfection, like this moment with him at the corner shop in downtown.
Last weekend, after attending The Quail Motorcycle Gathering in Carmel, CA (previous post), we drove the iconic 17-mile drive in Pebble Beach which was absolutely beautiful. Any view of the ocean is one where taking a zillion photos comes effortlessly. I didn’t take a zillion, but came close, so I’m including only a few here. I hope you enjoy part of Nature’s photo album.
Highway 1 along the coast
Do you see this little guy? He blends right in, doesn’t he? Whatever he was snacking on was much more exciting and important than us.
Bird Rock Vista Point in Pebble Beach, CA is where Brown Pelicans, Brandt’s Cormorants, Western Gulls, and Sea Lions come and go as per their mating seasons.
Our ride. 🙂
On the 17-mile drive surrounded by beautiful Cypress treesand that blue sky in the distance.
And below is a poem I posted last year. Life is all about the beauty surrounding us, not giving those negative thoughts rent space, and breathing in the peace wherever you may find it…
Ever So Gently
Sometimes we get lost in our thoughts… losing focus of stars shimmering above us, the sky turning heavenly blue for our pleasure, raindrops falling for our essential cleansing. We tumble too deeply into the frontal lobe allowing negative thoughts to awaken, permitting them to throw a tantrum.
So we must remember the wind will carry worries and doubts across rivers and oceans, majestic trees will sway with joy, sheltering from shadows, and light will continue to shine, even if only a slight glimmer peeks through. Its glow will grow ever so gently into a bright beacon of hope rising with the golden sun bringing the most beautiful clarity to our vision.
Each purl stitch was interlaced with love from the touch of her gentle hands. She, the teacher, me, the student, as our bodies sank into the big sofa checkered in a seventy’s palette.
For a new teen, my love for her went unmeasured. Now, fully immersed in motherhood after three decades, the mom role is clear as plate glass, how heart and mind require flexibility, the juggling of many hats.
Her wisdom mingles with my thoughts so often that I whisper, “I get it, Mom.” Teardrops of love struggle for freedom, grief clutches at my heart.
Autumn browns, reds, yellows, and oranges from that afghan warmed memories over the years, but at some point, my novice knitwork must have slipped a stitch because those warm shades unraveled through the seasons, crafting a hole in the center that mirrors the chasm in my heart from missing her.
Mom loved her pink roses, so this beauty from our garden is for her.
A Mother’s Day Tribute
With her tender care, she creates perfection Like a mama bird, she provides protection Under her wing she carries warmth A frown in her view, she’ll easily transform Her beauty shines, flows like a river Ah, but her love will never wither She embodies splendor of many colors bold for confidence, pastel for aiding others With a butterfly’s elegance, she graces our presence Her million-dollar smile illuminates her essence A sister, daughter, friend, and lover A doting spirit like no other An angel on earth, A spirit divine A lovely blessing One of a kind
Happy Mother’s Day to all Moms out there, and to our Moms in Heaven, we miss you and love you! 💕
And a Big shout-out to my daughter and son who are absolutely the best and make me feel so blessed. ❤️
I’m excited for my book, More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose, to be featured on Sally’s Bookshelf today at her wonderful Smorgasbord blog. I’ve included an extract from one of the stories below, but I invite you to check out Sally’s post for more information, and Thank you, Sally! ❤️
Extract from Ascent:
It was all so strange – grieving the passing of my father, and at the same time having planned the trip. After talking to my sisters, they encouraged us to still go. “It’s what Dad would want,” they said. I wasn’t sure it was the right decision, but after much thought, we took my sisters’ advice. I couldn’t ignore the slight guilt of going on the trip while it was all so fresh. I wouldn’t have left if Dad was still in the hospital, but he was at peace now, no longer suffering. In some otherworldly way, I felt his approval.
We began our four-hour drive to the Sierra a few days after his passing. When we arrived, we unloaded our stuff and “suited up”. During the trip preparation, as well as the drive, Matt repeated, “It’s only a mile and a half to the lake!” What he didn’t mention was that the hike entailed an ascent over a huge granite dome. I became anxious because I didn’t feel physically prepared. But his confidence in my ability was apparent, so we began the uphill hike.
When we reached the top and I looked down that sleek granite dome, I was amazed at what I had achieved. Never underestimate our abilities. On the other side of the dome, Shealor Lake was in full view. We gave our legs a short rest, drank some water, then headed downhill with the enticing pull of the lake’s beauty. As we neared the bottom, my emotions ran wild. I was relieved that we finally made it, but a sudden wave of grief washed over me. We removed our packs and sat on a log for a time-out. I was so overwhelmed that the tears found freedom. I didn’t fight them. I cried for the loss of Dad. I cried for having completed this hike that I didn’t think I was capable of. I would’ve backed out graciously had I known the details.
After a few minutes, I composed myself and looked to the lake. The water, a jeweled phenomenon. It sparkled, inviting us for a swim. While we set up our back-country camp, the orange-hot sun blazed down on us as if we had drastically turned up the thermostat, so the cool lake water soothed our sun-kissed skin. The fact that we were all alone in this canyon full of forest and smooth granite was beyond welcoming. The tranquility offered me the chance to reminisce about Dad and my parents together. The solitude afforded a perfect destination to grieve, think, remember, and cry. Mourning the loss of one parent was difficult enough but losing both felt surreal – a new stage of life had begun.
This Sierra adventure provided a chance for hiking and granite-rock hopping. The sun was our alarm clock, bidding us good morning and night as it rose and faded behind the hills. At night, our campfire’s dancing flames mesmerized, and the star-sprinkled sky enthralled. No matter where we explored, magic wrapped us in its warm embrace. This trip challenged my mind, body, and soul. I gained insight into my deepest being, learning not to limit myself. This amazing destination and experience proved to be the best medicine.
More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose by Lauren Scott is a heart-warming memoir that captures lovely moments of childhood, of parents’ love, of attachments, of campfires and hiking with the love of her life. The blissful moments come alive as Scott revels in the good times, letting nostalgia transport her into time machine, to watch the reel unfold like “pictures on a camera roll.” She talks about the value of some priceless gifts that are handed down from one generation to another; she takes pride in the stories that such “gems” tell to evoke fond memories of parents. Only the happy times have been shared in this book.
Written in a simple and straight-forward style, Lauren’s poetry is realistic. ‘To My Babies’ tugged at my heart and I am sure all mothers can relate to this delightful poem. Fragrant memories of “Earthquake Cake” made me smile. ‘Simple Existence’ is thought-provoking and made me pause to comprehend the depth of words that dance across “desert dunes and boundless oceans.” ‘Forever Steady’ too gives you a reflective message to take a breather, look at magical wilderness of nature and see how “delightfully birds sing and trees welcome our company.”
I loved this book and finished it within an hour. If you value relationships and family bonding, this book is for you.
In this series you are invited to share an extract of 500 words from your most recent book published within the last 12 months. Details at the end of the post.
The aim of the series
To showcase your latest book and sell some more copies.
Gain more reviews for the book.
Promote a selection of your other books that are available.
Today an extract from poetry and short memoir collection More than Coffee: Memories in Verse and Prose by Lauren Scott.
About the collection
From the early woes of childhood and teen years, this collection of stories and poems paints a picture of young dreams and fears. But as adulthood sets in, these dreams and fears change. More than Coffee touches on love and loss, nature and endurance, marriage and parenting. In these memories, humor diffuses fear and taking risks proves to be a powerful method in boosting self-confidence…
I’ve never participated in a poetry reading before. Even though I’ve sung in front of audiences in my youth, the thought of sharing my original poetry in person immediately starts the internal flapping of butterfly wings. Sharing behind a screen isn’t so scary.
Well, a friend of mine heard of a local poetry night taking place last week, so she encouraged me to sign up. Her exact words, “You should do it!” So I did, but not without jumpy nerves.
There were 27 poets, different ages, even some young voices which was fabulous. I prayed that I wouldn’t be the last reader because we all know the effects of anticipation. Instead, I was second to read, which was a little nerve-racking in itself, but at least it was over fast. According to my friend, I did great. And even in my mind, I thought I had done well, maybe not stellar, but well enough for the first time. I didn’t trip over any words. I didn’t sneeze or fall into a coughing fit. I stayed focused, and afterwards, I received some “Beautifuls”, which I believe is music to any artist’s ears.
Irregardless, I’m glad I finally did this, another box checked off the list. Listening to the others read their original poems or poems written by another author was also wonderful. This event turned out to be an enlightening experience.
Now, for the sake of trying something fun and different, I’m sharing an audio of the poem I read that I recently recorded. I’ve posted “Castanets” before, but I’ve made small revisions since then.
I also can’t help wonder if most people think their voices sound strange when they hear them recorded. I know I do. Nonetheless, here goes…
Castanets
Stepping outside, I stroll down the quiet road with my lab on my left, his gait as graceful as a galloping horse in slow motion. Squirrels raise their sleepy heads because of the early hour. The sky appears to be coal black, but when I turn the corner, watermelon pinks, corals, and lemon yellows take center stage. My camera doesn’t do justice. Then I recall my son saying, “Enjoy the moment.” I slip that device back in my pocket. To my right, salmon-colored roses flaunt their fragrance and I am intoxicated. Passing orange poppies, their stems flutter with excitement, eager for the sun’s ascent, and in the distance, silence sings its serene ballad. As the tempo of our pace speeds up, a breeze joins us, and the leaves on the trees lining the lane sway in rhythm as though dancing a waltz. Jowls flap, he smiles with brown nose set in overdrive. The sun’s gentle touch adds a glimmer to his copper coat. I pause, bending down to his level, fingers stroke shiny, silky fur, his eyes close, contented from contact. When we move again, his nails on the asphalt mimic the clicking of two sets of castanets, and in seconds, I realize these observations are what life is all about… seeing…feeling…smelling…listening… being.
Baydreamer Writes ~ Lauren Scott, Author & Poet 