In case you didn't know, this website has a message board (You'll find a link on the main index page). Lately the topics for discussion and/or writing have been about our mornings. What are your mornings like? What do you see when you look out your window each morning? March is usually a mix of winter temperatures and spring flowers. Is that the case where you are?
What were your mornings like when you were growing up? When I was a child, I would get up each morning, go downstairs, and warm myself in front of a large Heatrola. We didn't have central heat so we burned coal. I ate breakfast with my brother and my mother because my father worked a night shift and didn't get home until I had already left for school. I walked a mile to school every morning because I lived too close to ride a school bus.
Nowdays I sit at my kitchen window with a cup of hot tea. I have a large window and that's where I like to sit when it rains. Early morning usually means a cup of hot tea and some time with my orchids. Then it's off to the computer room and my computer.
Morning aromas are heavenly. I love breakfast. I would love to sit down to a breakfast of sausage links and scrambled eggs every morning, but I don't. I like buttermilk pancakes, too.
I hope you'll take a few minutes to think about your mornings. I don't know about you, but my mornings are much more enjoyable now that I'm retired and can linger over a cup of tea. Musings, poetry, or prose. Fiction or fact, we look forward to your entry.
© By Amy (Fabulousfilly@aol.com)
pink roses from my window view
as i sip coffee this morning with you
you and i look at the sky
dab a hankie to our eye
as a tear we doth cry
you and i
of here and there
of old days long long gone
when we two also sat among the throng
of benches molded out of wrought iron
just listening to the birds in song
we chatted lightly gazing upon
the setting sun in the west
friends yes we are the best ..
© By Doris (Toto38@aol.com)
Six or Eight (Doris held in Agnes's arms)
There were eight of us getting ready for school or work each morning. Poppa always left for work early, which was a blessing. There was only one bathroom in that six room railroad apartment in Brooklyn. The young ones took their baths before bed so the older ones could get in quick showers in the morning. Sometimes the boys would take their showers at night so their sisters could have an early morning shower. It was all according to who was doing what that day. Mom would take her bath after we all left for school and work.
It was a hectic scene in the morning. Some eating breakfast, others brushing teeth, putting on makeup, hair being braided, making lunches, ironing blouses at the last minute, or searching for change for the train or trolley. But there was always music playing. Midst all the hullabaloo mom had the radio on in the kitchen and we all hummed or sang to the latest tunes of the mid 40's and early 50's. Sometimes my older sisters would get in a few quick jitterbug steps before going out the door! Mom would be shooing everyone off . . . and she'd sit down with her cup of coffee for a few minutes to catch her breath . . . then off to her warm relaxing bath. Oh, how I miss them all, and those hectic good mornings.
© By Tom (TOMWYO@aol.com)
Pink roses, lattice and butterflies too,
Makes one think of a nice spring day.
Bare feet on the cold ground,
Sun surely will burn my neck.
Thoughts of flowers and trees with leaves,
Crocus, tulips and daffodils too,
All seem to fly through my head,
Then I think of all the work.
Robins chirping and hopping about,
All are looking for a place to build a nest.
Me, I just look and shake my head,
I haven’t yet raked the leaves from last fall.
Butterflies flitting about,
But oh dang I am
Way ahead of my self,
It is cold and going to snow.
I look at the pictures and do smile,
For back east and down there
It is spring time.
But not up here on the high plains.
Snow a falling covers the sprouts,
And crocus covered with a blanket of snow,
Tulips are all trimmed in ice
© By Jeanie (Mingo184@aol.com)
GOOD MORNING, YOU SAY
NOT YET, I WANT TO PLAY
UNDER THE COVERS I CREEP
I WANT TO GO BACK TO SLEEP
BUT MOM PRODS ME TO AWAKEN
WOE IS ME, I AM FORSAKEN
TO SCHOOL I MUST GO
GET DRESSED AND LOOK SPIFFY
EAT BREAKFAST IN A JIFFY
MORNINGS WERE ALWAYS HARD FOR ME
LATER, WHEN WORKING, I DID THE 2ND SHIFT, YOU SEE
NOW, I'M RETIRED HAPPILY
NO GETTING UP EARLY FOR ME.
OUTSIDE MY WINDOW THE MORNING DOVES COO
CALLING OUT SO EARLY THEY COO
THROWING THE COVERS OVER MY HEAD
I NOW CAN STAY LONGER IN MY BED
© By Mary Carter Mizrany (MusingByMary@aol.com)
Good morning to you,
good morning to you . . .
we're all in our places
with sunshiny faces,
and this is the way
to start a new day!
This was the song my first grade teacher
had us sing every morning before our work began.
Then we would bow our heads for prayer,
and say The Pledge of Allegiance to the flag.
It was not a Christian school at all; but an
elementary school in the Houston Independent
Sad to say, there are probably not many teachers now
allowed to have a morning prayer;
pledge allegiance to the flag, and, I wonder if
there are any who still have singing in the morning.
I do hope so:-)
It started the day off right for the students.
It put our minds on pleasant things and singing
always lifts the spirit.
The beautiful graphic sent by Gwen gives our
hearts reason to sing, doesn't it? The lovely
roses with butterflies flitting round them.
Latticework adds other touches of interest.
This picture makes me want to SING:-)
Good morning to YOU
good morning to ypu . . .
we're all in our places
with sunshiny faces,
and this is the way
to start a new day:-)
Have a beautiful day, dear ones!
Mary Carter Mizrany©
March 19, 2007
© By Swampetta (SWAMPETTA@aol.com)
Sometimes morning comes at odd hours.
I don't always greet it with glee.
At 2 Ayem...the hell with flowers!
It's only the moon that I see.
I am a night-blooming jasmine.
Flying not with butterflies, but bats.
The raccoon is more like my kin.
And I stalk with my cats.
Some mornings come as a big surprise!
Not always welcomed by me.
The bright light hurts my eyes.
Because I was up 'til three.
The night does me a kindness,
Quieter than the blatant day.
Most mornings find me mindless
Not in the mood to go out and play.
Good Morning, Aunt Fran
© By Barb (Brierhillbarbara@aol.com)
Aunt Fran is a younger sister of my mother, she lives in a small mountain town in Maryland. She is a good cook and raised a large family. They like buckwheat pancakes and coffee for breakfast, and all the trimmings. Her kitchen always smells good and is homey and nice. Her kitchen is always clean, she is a good person too. She is a grandmother too, and I'm sure she is a good one. We don't get to spend much time together but we both raised six children so we have been through hard some hard times, like losing a child. She lost two of her sons, one to war and the youngest to cancer. Life is not always fair, and that's for sure.
Funny how the bad things often make folks closer, almost like a club with no meetings. Only those who go through the valleys know how good the mountain tops are. Also, it seems that tough times make us softer to the others who go through tough things. We have the knowing, the understanding of the times when we can't talk about it and again the times when we can talk and talk about it. There is a sadness about us at times, like when we hold their pictures or visit them at the cemetery with flowers.
Ok, back to the kitchen and the view of her neighbor's yard, and of her back yard full of flowers. Many she shared with others or some others shared with her. The hollyhocks amongst the annuals, and they edge the vegetable garden. In the heat of summer the mountain is usually cool at night.
The love that Aunt Fran grows in her home that she shares with others, that is what's important.
HER front and back porches are hospitable and the view is lovely. You can see cows in their meadow.
© By Marty (email@example.com)
I love early morn
When the skies come alive
The deep golden colors
Begins to light up the skies
Patches of pink and purple shine
With rich tones of gold
Rising up a little at a time
Unfolding into baby-blue skies
Changing colors and flowing
Bringing such beauty, to ones eyes
The vivid brazen sun, begins to rise
Lighting up the Heaven
Into early mornings light.
© By Lilly (Lilprincessitali@aol.com)
I SIT HERE THINKING THIS MORNING
OF YEARS BACK, UP TO TODAY
WHEN I A LITTLE GIRL AT HOME
THERE WAS NO TIME SET TO ARISE
WENT DOWNSTAIRS, JAMMIES N' SLIPPERS
HOT OR COLD BREAKFAST IT VARIED
PRIVATE SCHOOL EARLIER AWAKEN
ALWAYS ATE A GOOD BREAKFAST
THEN I OUTSIDE TO PLAY OR SCHOOL
TEENS, WAKE, FIX HAIR PUT ON LIPSTICK
BOYS ON MIND, I BECAME WAITRESS
BREAKFAST IN DINING ROOM YUMMY
FINISHED SCHOOL, I WORKED THE NIGHT SHIFT
MORNINGS SLEPT LATE, ATE BREAKFAST OUT
BECAME A MOTHER, BABIES NEEDED ME
NEVER MISSED, I MADE GOOD BREAKFASTS
KIDS OLDER, EACH THEIR OWN BREAKFAST
I INTERESTED IN FLOWERS AND BIRDS
SAW SQUIRRELS AND BATS AND MICE
NOW AS I OLDER, MY LIFE CHANGED
TOOK TO LOOKING OUT MY WINDOW
THOUGHT MUCH ABOUT NATURE OUTSIDE
DIDN'T CARE TO EAT A GOOD BREAKFAST
JUST CEREAL OR TOAST OR DONUT
SOMETIMES HAVE BREAKFAST FOR LUNCH
ALWAYS BREAKFAST LOOKING OUTSIDE
WONDER I MISS SOMETHING BETTER
© By Connie (CSThomas@aol.com)
Leaving home for the very first time
One leaves behind the security
of your room and a Mother's love
How can I survive without
her constant guidance and concern...
Venturing into a world totally alien to me,
I turn for one last look at
the lattice above our gate as
sorrow and loneliness seep in...
Will this be a mistake I'll
regret farther down the road
Will I have the happiness
that was promised to me
Will he love me forever
through sickness and in health
Misgivings enter my mind as
Mother weeps and waves her goodbyes...
Lingering thoughts take me back
to when I was just a little one
and seeing the poorness of our lives
Even then I was a happy child
Now, some fifty years later
I sit and ponder that day....
that day when I walked through the door
..... leaving behind my happiness
a happiness that only a child could know
Regrets? ...... we all have those!
© By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)
There's such comfort in
A rose trellis
There's a permanency thread
Through Victorian times
When grand ladies wore morning gowns,
Trimmed stray petals
In early morning's dew
At a round table
By the roses.
Joy In The Morning
© By Evelyn (Evenccw@aol.com)
Aunt Helen teaches Evelyn in the morning!
I have been granted many blessings. If I were I to choose the one that ranks highest on my list of blessings, I would consider the fact that I am a “morning person.” I am among that parentage of the population who gets up and says, “Good morning, God!” and aggravates the bejeepers out of the percentage that gets up and says, “Good God, morning!” My husband’s side of the family belongs to the latter.
It was good fortune, or a stroke of luck, that for the first years of our marriage, Tom had to leave for the office between six-thirty and seven o'clock in the morning. It was unbelievable that the smiling man who came home at five-thirty was the same grouch who walked out the door at seven in the morning! Weekends could be a challenge. There were times when the children and I walked on eggs until Daddy had his third cup of coffee! The good news is, that after fifty-five years of marriage, we have learned to negotiate boundaries! I am still a morning person and he is still an evening person. We have learned that there is advantage in differing points of view!
When very, very young, I had the freedom of living in the country. On sunny summer mornings Aunt Helen would show me how to find doodle bugs in the sand in the back yard. She lived with us in my early years. Holding my little hand, we’d take a stick and swirl it around and around in the little sand funnel and sing, “Doodle bug, doodle bug, come a sack of sugar!” Soon an angry-looking little black bug came tumbling out of his sand hole! A story she liked tell about me, until she died, was how one morning I observed the comb on a Rhode Island Red chicken walking around in the backyard. I said, “Helen, look at the funny hat on that chicken!” Aunt Helen laughed and said, “Evelyn, that’s just your crazy idea.” I cried real tears when I said, “I’m not a Crazy Idy!” Some handles you never live down. After these many years I figure that being a “Crazy Idy” means that I’m creative, and that’s okay. Actually, it seems to fit!
Chicken with the "funny hat!"
My best “joy in the morning” memories in my growing up years are of Mama in the the warmth of her kitchen as she stood at the stove making breakfast. She always arose at four-thirty. I loved to hear her tell of how her mother made breakfast in the same kitchen. She said that she loved to wake up to the sound of her mother grinding coffee for the day and how the aroma wafted up the stairs. In the morning the kitchen always seemed to be flooded with light from the east window. Before long, Aunt Freda would come in with the morning milk. One by one we took our turns at the wash basin to freshen up for school. Someone set the table. In the busyness someone was assigned to make lunches to carry to school. On the days that the lunch room provided hot lunches it was our job to carry two half gallon Mason jars of milk to school to pay (as barter) for our hot meals. My Mama’s kitchen was a busy place in the morning! The years have rolled on and it was not long before my children saw me standing at the stove making breakfasts and lunches as they each began their day. Then came the Grandma and Grandpa years and my kitchen continued to be the busiest place in the house early in the morning. As the happy laughter of grandchildren filled my kitchen there was always joy in the morning!
In the sunny south at Easter time flowers and grasses bloomed in abundance. My siblings and I made our “bunny nests” out of whatever containers we could find. Some of the most coveted were old worn out wash basins. We’d fill them with grass and decorate them lovingly with hyacinths, bridal wreath and violets and line them up in the hall where the Easter Bunny would “lay his eggs!” We were never disappointed. The eggs were always spectacular. Some years he would leave a chocolate egg or bunny in each nest. It was magical! It was joy in the morning! Soon we were on our way to the Easter Mass with the high choir. Mama’s favorite song was, “Alleluia, Alleluia, Let the Holy Anthem Rise!” When she sang her voice filled the hills and dales and the woods in the springtime. Now, whenever the choir sings that hymn I am reminded of her joyfulness with a tear in my eye and a lump in my throat. Easter was for her a time of joy and we basked in the light of her love.
In my children’s growing up years, the Easter Bunny brought them each a basket which he hid somewhere in the house. Such a racket you've never heard as each basket was discovered. Joy in the morning! In addition, Mr. Bunny hid dozens of colored Easter eggs for them to find. If the weather was inclement he hid them all over the house. If the weather was warm and Easter was a little later the Bunny hid the eggs outside. That tradition continued with their children, always with squeals of joy in the morning!
One year, while visiting with my daughter Marcia and her family in Phoenix, I was invited to hunt Easter eggs along with granddaughter Erika. To my delight, I found my own special Easter egg inscribed with “Granny!” It was a glorious Easter. Marcia’s backyard fence was climbing with the most beautiful roses I have ever seen. I captured one with my Minolta 7000 and I call it “My Easter Rose.”
Granny finds her Easter egg!
My Easter Rose
basking in the morning sunlight
Morning is a magical time. I feel the magic each time I hear the hymn “Morning Has Broken” by Eleanor Farjoen in 1931, popularized by Cat Stevens in the 1970s as a pop song.
Morning has broken, like the first morning
Blackbird has spoken, like the first bird
Praise for the singing, praise for the morning
Praise for the springing fresh from the world
Sweet the rain's new fall, sunlit from heaven
Like the first dew fall, on the first grass
Praise for the sweetness of the wet garden
Sprung in completeness where his feet pass
Mine is the sunlight, mine is the morning
Born of the one light, Eden saw play
Praise with elation, praise every morning
God's recreation of the new day