Nice. Your poems take me back to a time growing up as a boy in Michigan, 60+ years ago, and two grandma's who gardened, and cooked and canned. I remembered the smells, and their old stoves, and their kitchens and houses. We have the recipes, and my Mom's, in their precise handwriting, and when we dust them off to make the favorites on the holidays, it's like traveling in time. Thanks.
I'm so pleased these poems transport you. I too remember the smells of my grandmothers' kitchens and I associate those memories with love. I"m grateful for that. Thank you for the comment.
Your words bring the days back so clearly! My brother and I always talk about why things always tasted better then! Your words of the cabbage are just perfection! I'm loving the reference to "teacher writing." That includes many of us now.
Congratulations Suzanna. Your poems both took me back, the first to both of my grandmothers, wishing I could read their writing again. The second, to neighbors, long-gone, but remembered quite fondly. So relatable.
Yes, just a little stressed trying to shore up the Cat Writers' Association Conference. I had two speakers cancel on me, but I think I've replaced them now. Whew!
Brings to mind "Canned Goods" by Greg Brown, and reminds me of Grandma Raney's fried chicken. She told us the neck was her favorite piece, while us kids gobbled up the legs & wings! Great writing!!!
Thank you for your comment. It was fun to have the connection to Greg Brown's song. What a voice. I also googled "canned food poems" and there were a lot. All part of our memories.
These poems touched my heart, from my small-town upbringing to my current dealing with changes, large and profound. Thank you for sharing these words and images!
Thanks, Beth. Glad that comes across. It was such irony that everything in nature was overflowing. But then, inevitably, fall arrives and the cycle repeats.
I love these poems so much. My grandmother had that handwriting. I remember sitting in her kitchen, spreading butter on top of warm rolls while she readied the rest of a Sunday dinner. I remember the tomatoes and the gooseberries and can see the cabbage orbs. Thank you for reminding me of those long summer days in my grandmother’s loving orbit.
Nice. Your poems take me back to a time growing up as a boy in Michigan, 60+ years ago, and two grandma's who gardened, and cooked and canned. I remembered the smells, and their old stoves, and their kitchens and houses. We have the recipes, and my Mom's, in their precise handwriting, and when we dust them off to make the favorites on the holidays, it's like traveling in time. Thanks.
I'm so pleased these poems transport you. I too remember the smells of my grandmothers' kitchens and I associate those memories with love. I"m grateful for that. Thank you for the comment.
Simply incredible poetry. Like summer gardens, you are ripe with words that glisten with dew.
Appreciation as always!
Your words bring the days back so clearly! My brother and I always talk about why things always tasted better then! Your words of the cabbage are just perfection! I'm loving the reference to "teacher writing." That includes many of us now.
Congratulations Suzanna. Your poems both took me back, the first to both of my grandmothers, wishing I could read their writing again. The second, to neighbors, long-gone, but remembered quite fondly. So relatable.
Thank you, Andrea! That means a lot. Hope all is well!
Yes, just a little stressed trying to shore up the Cat Writers' Association Conference. I had two speakers cancel on me, but I think I've replaced them now. Whew!
Brings to mind "Canned Goods" by Greg Brown, and reminds me of Grandma Raney's fried chicken. She told us the neck was her favorite piece, while us kids gobbled up the legs & wings! Great writing!!!
Thank you for your comment. It was fun to have the connection to Greg Brown's song. What a voice. I also googled "canned food poems" and there were a lot. All part of our memories.
Can almost smell those kitchens ❤️
Exactly. The smell of love and busy-ness!
These poems touched my heart, from my small-town upbringing to my current dealing with changes, large and profound. Thank you for sharing these words and images!
Thank you, Ardis! Appreciate the kind words.
I love it. Thanks.
Appreciate your comment, Ardyth!
👍congratulations too!
Thanks for the thumbs up, Kent!
I love the juxtaposition of the growing garden, the consistency of it, to the uncertainty of life. How comforting a cabbage is!
Thanks, Beth. Glad that comes across. It was such irony that everything in nature was overflowing. But then, inevitably, fall arrives and the cycle repeats.
I love these poems so much. My grandmother had that handwriting. I remember sitting in her kitchen, spreading butter on top of warm rolls while she readied the rest of a Sunday dinner. I remember the tomatoes and the gooseberries and can see the cabbage orbs. Thank you for reminding me of those long summer days in my grandmother’s loving orbit.
Exactly! Miss my grandma!
Thanks so much for the comment. I think everything my grandmother made was definitely better!