Maria Edgeworth on Opening Heart to Heart
The human heart,
at whatever age,
opens only to the heart
that opens in return.”
~Maria Edgeworth~
The human heart,
at whatever age,
opens only to the heart
that opens in return.”
~Maria Edgeworth~
My father Erwin A. Thompson, grandson of E. A. Riehl, writes fondly of Lee Maupin, his boyhood neighbor…and how Pop changed the course of Lee’s life…with a big boost from my Great Aunt Mim. Lee is gone now. And the farm is completely changed. Pop and I still visit Kay Maupin up in Otterville. Kay…
Transition is a place all of its own. In between-ness. Being on the move, in motion. Sorting and packing. Yes this/not that. Clearing space, literally, for a new life cycle to follow, the unknown, fallow, yet fertile field yet to be plowed and sown. My studio has become a staging area for my move. The…
The day after Valentine’s Day one bouquet of roses rises tall on my kitchen counter (the long-stems). The shorter-stems reside on a refrigerator shelf, extending their life (shelf life?) and making me glad everytime I open the refrigerator door.
When I was growing up we still put up hay by hand, rode horses, milked cows, butchered, gardened and put up our own food, and sewed up ruptured hogs. But, most of all, when I was growing up the land nurtured me as a dreamer. The land raised me as a poet and writer. I…
Last year I met Eamon Grennan’s poetry through the Lannan Literary videos, a marvelous resource that deserves a post of its own. Eamon Grennan quickly became one of my favorite poets. Former U. S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins says of Grennan: Few poets are as generous as Eamon Grennan in the sheer volume of delight…
GRACE for four generations of Graces Amazing, isn’t it, grace? Praising. Blessing. Raising hearts lifted in thanks. How sweet the sound. The Greeks named three Graces. Joy. Charm. Beauty. Grace, a Lost and Found Department. Finding our ground within the surround sound Grace cares. Cares for. Cares about. Searches out the heart of the other….
My father Erwin A. Thompson, grandson of E. A. Riehl, writes fondly of Lee Maupin, his boyhood neighbor…and how Pop changed the course of Lee’s life…with a big boost from my Great Aunt Mim. Lee is gone now. And the farm is completely changed. Pop and I still visit Kay Maupin up in Otterville. Kay…
Transition is a place all of its own. In between-ness. Being on the move, in motion. Sorting and packing. Yes this/not that. Clearing space, literally, for a new life cycle to follow, the unknown, fallow, yet fertile field yet to be plowed and sown. My studio has become a staging area for my move. The…
The day after Valentine’s Day one bouquet of roses rises tall on my kitchen counter (the long-stems). The shorter-stems reside on a refrigerator shelf, extending their life (shelf life?) and making me glad everytime I open the refrigerator door.
When I was growing up we still put up hay by hand, rode horses, milked cows, butchered, gardened and put up our own food, and sewed up ruptured hogs. But, most of all, when I was growing up the land nurtured me as a dreamer. The land raised me as a poet and writer. I…
Last year I met Eamon Grennan’s poetry through the Lannan Literary videos, a marvelous resource that deserves a post of its own. Eamon Grennan quickly became one of my favorite poets. Former U. S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins says of Grennan: Few poets are as generous as Eamon Grennan in the sheer volume of delight…
GRACE for four generations of Graces Amazing, isn’t it, grace? Praising. Blessing. Raising hearts lifted in thanks. How sweet the sound. The Greeks named three Graces. Joy. Charm. Beauty. Grace, a Lost and Found Department. Finding our ground within the surround sound Grace cares. Cares for. Cares about. Searches out the heart of the other….
My father Erwin A. Thompson, grandson of E. A. Riehl, writes fondly of Lee Maupin, his boyhood neighbor…and how Pop changed the course of Lee’s life…with a big boost from my Great Aunt Mim. Lee is gone now. And the farm is completely changed. Pop and I still visit Kay Maupin up in Otterville. Kay…
Transition is a place all of its own. In between-ness. Being on the move, in motion. Sorting and packing. Yes this/not that. Clearing space, literally, for a new life cycle to follow, the unknown, fallow, yet fertile field yet to be plowed and sown. My studio has become a staging area for my move. The…
The day after Valentine’s Day one bouquet of roses rises tall on my kitchen counter (the long-stems). The shorter-stems reside on a refrigerator shelf, extending their life (shelf life?) and making me glad everytime I open the refrigerator door.
When I was growing up we still put up hay by hand, rode horses, milked cows, butchered, gardened and put up our own food, and sewed up ruptured hogs. But, most of all, when I was growing up the land nurtured me as a dreamer. The land raised me as a poet and writer. I…
Last year I met Eamon Grennan’s poetry through the Lannan Literary videos, a marvelous resource that deserves a post of its own. Eamon Grennan quickly became one of my favorite poets. Former U. S. Poet Laureate Billy Collins says of Grennan: Few poets are as generous as Eamon Grennan in the sheer volume of delight…
GRACE for four generations of Graces Amazing, isn’t it, grace? Praising. Blessing. Raising hearts lifted in thanks. How sweet the sound. The Greeks named three Graces. Joy. Charm. Beauty. Grace, a Lost and Found Department. Finding our ground within the surround sound Grace cares. Cares for. Cares about. Searches out the heart of the other….