
She dreams in pink…






I am God’s flower.
I am petals swaying in the wind
soaking up the dew drops
while the sunshine kisses my skin.
I am God’s flower.
Do not pick me.
Do not crush me.
God created me just as I am.
I am His flower.




for Michelle Marie…





I’m not so young, I’m not so old
I am at the age where the laundry I don’t fold.
I don’t own an iron…I am proud to say
Even if I did, I wouldn’t use it anyway.
I used to clean from the moment I woke
Now I drink coffee and have me a smoke.
After a few hours, when my bones decide to perform
I take hundreds of pictures of the flowers, wondering
when is somebody going to mow the lawn?
Jeanne Marie, 2016
As we are blooming bright, beautiful, young and strong, remember that young and strong will fade, and the real beauty is you and it comes from the inside out through the petals we show the world.
When we leave this world, we must leave behind memories of our strength and our beauty for our children.
Today as you water your blooms and trim your branches, remember, what you do today is what your children will remember tomorrow.
When you are gone, they will have nothing but memories so make each memory a beautiful one and as to the ones that are filled with pain, because we all have those too, try to heal them before you go.
Love does not conquer all but it is a wonderful balm to put on wounds.
Nothing, nothing is stronger than a mother’s love however screwed up and twisted she may be at times…she loves you with every inch of her being.
Your mother’s love for you is the beauty, even the faded, dried-out twisted blooms have beauty beyond compare and the dried-out blooms have value if only to remind you of her beauty when she was in full bloom…
As you bloom today, prepare for what you leave behind. tomorrow. What have you planted in your garden?
What needs to stay and what needs to go?
Don’t hold on to what has already died.
Nurture the living blooms while you have time, because to each flower, there is a season and to everything but love, there is an end.
Jeanne Marie, 2015
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You think you know who your friends are and then BOOM out of the blue, one of them attacks you.
I was out working in the garden the other day and I enjoyed it so much. My husband and I planted new plants; he raked up leaves and we cleaned the gardens.
The sun was shining, just strong enough to gently warm my soul.
When we were done, I went in the house to wash up.
I set my pruning shears down on a little table on the porch.
As I turned to walk away, they jumped down on me with full force.
Bam… off the table they flew and one Nasty Point jammed itself right into my foot, traveling almost all the way through my flesh to the floor.
I was shocked by the fury of this attack.
I take good care of my pruning shears. I gently wash them off every time I use them. I dry them, I oil them and I put them away in a soft cloth.
So, can you see why I didn’t understand why one of them would attack me?
Maybe they were upset because I usually take out the other cheap pair and maybe they were jealous…I just don’t have a clue. I wasn’t vengeful; I cleaned them as usual and put them away.
However, they are on unpaid leave until further notice.
I washed, soaked in Epsom salts and cleaned out the wound, antibioticed and bandaged the puncture, but all of that didn’t help much. Within two days I knew I had a problem.
It was time for WebMD. Yup. WebMD confirmed that I had screwed up. Puncture wounds in the foot are a serious business it seems.
Should have been seen by a doctor right away and maybe a foot surgeon.
Now, I am at Urgent Care waiting for the teenagerish doctor’s verdict.
The foot is swollen, the skin is stretched taunt, it’s shiny and it hurts like a son of a gun. (I don’t know what that means but my mom applied the term too many pains.)
“Oh yes, it’s infected! I’m going to give you some antibiotics and you should come back in a few days if it doesn’t get better.”
Well, that wouldn’t happen because the next day I would be flying to Oklahoma to visit my baby granddaughter, limp and all.
Just for fun or maybe because she was having a slow day, she gave me a Tetanus shot.
“I had one about four years ago,” I protested. “I got it here when I came in with an allergic reaction to an ant bite!”
She left to look up the date and came back with a needle in her hand.
“Two weeks past five years,” she said, pretending that she felt bad.
The foot turned every shade of lavender and blue imaginable, but the next day I took my colorful foot to Oklahoma.
I had a fantastic visit with my son, his wife and my four-month-old granddaughter, Mile Mae.

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