A Captivating Story by Elizabeth Gauffreau – book review

The Weight of Snow and Regret

I just finished reading my blogger friend Liz’s Novel, The Weight of Snow and Regret. It is a wonderful story of the life Hazel, who with her husband Paul, have taken on the responsibility of managing the last poor farm in Vermont before it closed for good.  It is filled with unique and interesting characters that will captivate your attention and your emotions as you read.

The poor farm is where people who have nowhere else to go are taken and supported by the state-run facility. The story begins in the 1960s and then carries you back to the early part of the twentieth century as it tells of a time leading up to and following WWII. They were hard times for those left destitute. 

The book takes you from the present to the past and back again as the story moves along. It starts off with Clair who is married to a furniture store owner gets tired of her ho hum life and leaves to be with a blues singer Lightning Hopkins. Her life gets very complicated as her husband and daughter move from the deep south to Vermont. She follows them there in mid-winter only to end up at the Poor Farm with Hazel and Paul.

Flashback stories of Hazel’s childhood of poverty will tug at your heartstrings as her life as a child unravels as well. You cannot help but be touched by the life and times of that era. The story is full of unexpected surprises throughout. 

I loved the story from beginning to end and would highly recommend it to anyone looking for something unique and different to read. 

So… This was my Home

Born at home the fourth of five children

Not in the hospital. the doctor made the drive in

To our big white framed house on a little dirt road

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It doesn’t look the same to me, as I travel back to visit, to see

I hardly recognize the place where I ran wild and free

So much has changed as the years have gone by

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Back then I thought it would always stay the same

When I came back it would feel like home again

But life doesn’t work that way it seems

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The yard is overgrown with vines and bushes

That haven’t been kept trimmed like my sad wishes

It looks like a jungle growing around the front door

The garden is gone where we used to grow tomatoes

With corn and string beans, red beets, and potatoes

How quickly nature reclaims what we don’t tend

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They took the slate from off the steep roof

Replaced it with shingles to keep it waterproof

A shade of brown asphalt was the color of their choosing

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The cistern by the back porch is fast disappearing

It stored rainwater from the roof we used for our washing

But soon it will be hidden under layers of brush

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They added a room that sticks out the back

Covered it with siding that really doesn’t match

It looks rather tacky as I slowly drive past

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But what did I expect…. That the next persons who lived there

Would take pride in this house and make it their own

I guess they did… but it sure doesn’t look like home

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Today at d’Verse, Jennifer had us take inspiration form a poem by Ted Kooser, called So This is Nebraska. She asked us to write a similar poem. 

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com  

Photo of my childhood home taken back in 2018

Stuck in the Waddle

Jake stopped by Jess’s for lunch

Two hotdogs some French fries to crunch

He picked up a full Ketchup bottle

But the Ketchup stayed stuck in the waddle

He shook and he coaxed it…but

When he smacked it, it shot all over the table

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Today at d’Verse, Lisa asked us to write a Quadrille (44 words) using the prompt, coax.

Back in the late 1960s when I was in college, some of us would pile in a car and go downtown Harrisonburg, VA, to Jess’s Lunch counter where we could get hotdogs with chili and onions for 25 cents each! They were the long red hotdogs that made the water pink when they were boiled. We loved them! The restaurant stayed open until just a few years ago. They even opened a location at the mall. Anyone from that era knows exactly where you mean when you talk about Jess’s Hot Dogs.

Photo from bing images: Pinterest

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

Seasonal Changes (a haiku)

Mountain greens turn orange

Rocks absorb warm Fall sunshine

Birds ride the updraft

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Pen and Ink Watercolor painting: Dwight L. Roth

Serial Number Dreams

In the beginning God created the heavens and the Earth

He embedded his serial numbers into the rocks leaving them for us to find

Geologists have been searching for them for centuries it seems

Digging up treasured fossils, and searching for serial number dreams

Creation’s imprints left all around us are often missed as we pass by

Too busy to pause and check out God’s serial number memories

Hidden from view in rocks lying on a mountainside or riverbed

Waiting for us to pause, to recognize them, to crack them open and acknowledge them

God’s serial numbers hiding in plain sight reminding us that he existed long before we did

And anything we create with our finite minds has his serial number already on it

Our efforts are just sad efforts to duplicate the real thing!

Photos of Fossils I found in the mountains of Northwestern Virginia

Poetic Pond Stones

 

I threw a poem into the pond and watched it sink down out of site

Though the words were no longer around it sent out ripples of light

One after another they gently spread across the sky-blue water

Responses sent to me in waves, words full of appreciation and wonder

Every pond stone makes a difference as words float across each screening

And though they drop and disappear their rippling lines hold meaning

Words in print on a digital screen create an awesome splash

Pixels of light creating pixels of Light in ever expanding fashion

And though the core sinks deep and low those ripples of light aren’t forgotten

They return to our thoughts again and again in ever expanding fashion

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Photo: old family album

When I read Cindy’s post about her 1-year anniversary of her new book, Celebrating Poetry, I was captivated by her thought of each stone thrown into the pond, sending ripples through the universe. The concept of poetry being like stones thrown into the pond intrigued me. I decided to put my spin on it from a digital perspective, and that is how this poem came about.

Click the link below to see her post:

1 Year of “Celebrating Poetry”on Fri-Yayyy!

 

 

 

A Pivotal Moment in Time

In my thirties, I never understood what they meant when I heard older people talking about “The Dip.” Some called it, “Middle Age Crisis.” It is where one or both persons in a marriage relationship seem to hit a wall, become overwhelmed and seek an escape. It gets manifested in many ways, with buying hot car, infighting, infidelity, an illness, or loss of a child, loss of a job… any of which can result in the break-up of the marriage. With us, many years ago, it was depression that threatened the relationship.

I was brought up in a Christian home and believed in the power of prayer to help us through our difficult situations in life. But when faced with this situation, my prayers never seemed to get above the ceiling! It was a pivotal moment in time for me that helped me see, more realistically, how prayer works in our lives. Thankfully we did survive the crisis with the help of some good counselors and friends and will celebrate 56 years together in another month! So, my prayers were answered, just not in the way I expected.

Thoughts on Prayer

Pray but don’t hold your breath

What took thousands of years to create

Might take you some time to resolve

Things rarely happen instantaneously

And sometimes miracles do happen

Don’t hold your breath, hang on to Hope

Realizing our length of time is not promised

There are times we feel like dust on the windowsill

Other times like dust on the floor

But in the end, we are just “dust in the wind”

Looking for answers begging and second-guessing God

Kicking and screaming when things don’t go our way

Assuming our demand is the only agenda…

Waiting for answers that do come…

Often in ways that are unexpected

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth

Today at d’Verse, Melissa asked us to write a poem about a pivotal time in our lives. 

Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

 

 

The Shortcut… or a Scar to Remember

 

The fields outside my window were coated with November frost. My bedroom radiator clanked as the steam from the coal stove boiler circulated up from the basement. Being only twelve years old, I wondered about the possibility taking a short cut home across the field when I finished my newspaper paper route that evening.

 November evenings with dimming light were always a challenge for me. As I trudged across field, I had not counted on a rusty old, barbed wire fence. Lifting the wire I crawled through. I felt my pantleg rip!

It was cold as dusk was settling in so I hurried on home. I still have a scar on my thigh from that shortcut. No, it was “not yesterday I learned to know the love of bare November days, before the coming of the snow.” I never quite got the message!

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Today at d’Verse, Kim gave us a prosery prompt. We were to write a short pose story of no more than 144 words that included the following lines from a poem by Robert Frost – My November Guest…

“Not yesterday I learned to know

The love of bare November days

Before the coming of the snow”

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Join us at: https://dversepoets.com

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth – Mill Pond, Dayton VA

 

 

Aloe Vera Reincarnated

Last spring I decided to put my Aloe Vera plant out on the back deck for the summer. As the temperature climbed up into the 90s, I thought the heat might cook my plant. Instead, I noticed new growth coming up from the middle of the plant. I observed something else that made me wonder what was going on with the Aloe plant. The leaves on the plant that had been growing all winter in the house were wasting away. It was as though the Aloe Vera was using the nutrients in the old leaves to grow new ones.

aloe vera plant

still thriving in summer heat

regenerating

 

Now the cold weather is coming I decided to try something. I chopped up all the old half-dried-up leaves and put them around the base of the thriving center. I thought the plant juices might soak down into the soil feed the Aloe for another season. I am anxious to see what happens!

time for pruning back

recycling nutrients

just like trees drop leaves

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To be continued…

Photos: Dwight L. Roth

 

Creativity

Creativity is like a flower with many beautiful petals!

Each petal unique and full of life’s special graces

Though none are exactly the same they all blend together

Bringing strength and boldness in one delicate flower

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Creativity is like a flower with many beautiful petals

Attached to the heart they’re all banded together

It’s the source from which their inspiration grows

Full of strength and boldness in one delicate flower

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The flower of creativity blooms filled with beautiful petals

Some will fall off in time as inspiration trades places

And creative juices flowing come from unforeseen sources

Renewing your strength and bold beauty with many new choices

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Wherever your creativity lies whether many or varied voices

Remember that combined, your flower is a thing of beauty

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Photo: Dwight L. Roth