Month: March 2026

Tuesday, March 31, 2026 Commonplace Quotes: Easter Edition

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The sun is setting on the last day in March of 2026. What will April of 2026 bring? Warmer weather, longer days, travels to visit loved ones… But the best thing that April brings this year is that glorious day when we cry out to one another “He is risen!” “He is risen indeed!” I cannot fathom where I would be without knowing Christ as risen Lord. I cannot.

Would you know who is the greatest saint in the world: It is not he who prays most or fasts most, it is not he who gives most alms or is most eminent for temperance, chastity or justice, but it is he who is always thankful to God, who wills everything that God wills, who receives everything as an instance of God’s goodness and has a heart always ready to praise God for it.
William Law

I am not there yet, but it is something to strive for, isn’t it?

Our contentment does not consist in getting the thing we desire, but in God’s fashioning our spirits to our conditions.
Jeremiah Burroughs

Don’t you think that Jeremiah B. and William L. are probably having a good chat right now in heaven?

It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.
C.S. Lewis

You knew it was time to roll out some C. S. Lewis again, right? Read that quote a few times and ask yourself if you’ve just been playing at making mud pies when you could be on holiday at the sea. INFINITE JOY.

If my life is fruitless,
it doesn’t matter who praises me.
And if it’s fruitful,
it doesn’t matter who criticizes me.
John Bunyan

I am far too concerned with what other people think of me, than I am concerned with whether or not my life is bearing fruit.

There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship
than a mutual taste in literature.
P.G. Wodehouse

So, have you read Wooster and Jeeves? If so, we might have a foundation for a beautiful friendship.

Here’s lookin’ at you, kid.

I’ll use this post for making mud pies in the morning.

Monday, March 30, 2026 Emerging from Hibernation

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We are all emerging from hibernation in my part of the world. I sat outside in the sun this afternoon and my skin said, “What is this warmth touching me?” I put on some music and sat for a long time, watching cars, trucks and motorcycles go by and saw quite a few people out for a walk, some with dogs and some without. I like to think I’m invisible to the world when I sit out front. From the attention I get, which is none, I think it’s a reasonable assumption.

The trees are emerging from their hibernation, too. I can see from across the yard that they’re getting ready to get going on some major leaf production.

Our wind chimes were playing music with gentle winds.

And old growth will be making room for new.

Sing praise to the Lord of the seasons!

I’ll probably get rid of old posts to make room for new ones that will have to be deleted.

Thursday, March 26, 2026 Dear Diary

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Dear Diary,

Reporting to you from the Sticky Chair. Just when I feel like I’ve earned a good sit-down, a little voice says in my ear “It’s not good to be too sedentary.” But really, I’ve already been out of the house a record three times today: early morning Bible study, delivering Meals on Wheels (full disclosure: I was only the driver and did no actually delivering of said meals), and a trip to the Fitness Room that emptied my reserve of will power to make me go. By my calculations, I am due about 4 hours in the Sticky Chair, guilt free.

It’s been a good week, dear diary…I think. Whenever anyone asks me how my week went, my mind goes blank. What did I actually do over the last week? Reading, writing, and probably even a little arithmetic. Yes, I actually had to do some mental math to calculate how long I’d been in the fitness room.

After an 8-week absence, I returned to swimming laps and using weight machines. I’m easing in slowly since I’m still recovering from TOTAL KNEE REPLACEMENT surgery. Yes, that’s in ALL CAPS because I need to remember that it’s going to be a while before I’ll be running marathons like I used to. Ha ha – I don’t actually ever have to run marathons because – and this isn’t well known in the running world – I have secretly delegated my son-in-law to run them for me. It’s called “substitutionary running.” When he runs one (even a half a marathon), I get to check it off on my personal marathon score sheet. Please don’t tell him this since he still thinks he’s running them for himself.

Oh, here’s something new, Diary: I took part in a jam session last night with two other women! We had our guitars out to do some playing and singing together. I learned some new songs and discovered that my finger calluses are still rather weak.

I’m working on a new writing project and have determined to be more intentional about praying before I write. Martin Luther said, “God carves the rotten wood and rides the lame horse.” I heard that on a podcast and had to write it down. It makes me happy to know that God will used flawed people, like myself, to accomplish His purposes. Lord, carve this rotten wood and use me to write something that will gallop for your glory.

My famous workout bottle.

I actually don’t have to delete this as I have secretly designated someone else to. It might even be you.

Wednesday, March 25, 2026 The Workshop: Miro’s Woman, Bird and Star

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When we were homeschooling our children, I bought an art appreciation curriculum called “Look, Mommy, It’s a Renoir!” It came with small reproductions of many paintings done by a variety of artists spanning centuries and demonstrating many different styles. I’m using those now as my inspiration as I attempt to “imitate the masters.”

This week’s painting is called “Woman, Bird and Star” by Joan Miro, a Spanish artist who lived from 1893 to 1983. I’d heard of Miro before but didn’t realize until doing some research for this post that Joan Miro was a man. Didn’t see that coming.

Like Albrecht Durer, Miro’s father was a goldsmith, although Miro’s father was also a watchmaker. Miro developed an early interest in art. At his first solo art show in 1918 (at the tender age of 25), his work was ridiculed and defaced. Since some of his work now sells for millions of dollars, Miro clearly rose above this early humiliation. He struggled with depression, however, and used painting as a way of dealing with it.

“Woman, Bird and Star” was an oil painting that was completed on the day that Pablo Picasso died (April 8, 1973), so Miro dedicated this work to him. A prominent visual motif in Miro’s paintings is birds. He once said of his work, “In my paintings, there is a kind of circulatory system. If even one form is out of place, the circulation stops; the balance is broken.”

I’m pretty sure that the star portion of this painting is on the left, under the black ball. But as far as being able to see the woman and the bird, your guess is as good as mine. And maybe it doesn’t matter.

It was kind of fun working on this one. Since it is abstract and symbolic in nature, I didn’t concern myself with trying to make it a perfect copy. But I’m not sure that Miro would be happy with the circulatory system in it; the balance might be broken.

Next week: on to Vincent Van Gogh (whom Miro was inspired by).

I’m intrigued by the box with the name “Vincent” on it. What is that object in it? A toy?

Bidding you adios, amigos! This post may have to be deleted in the morning if I detect balance being broken.

Tuesday, March 24, 2026 Commonplace Quotes: The Spring is Coming Edition

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Ah, the coming of spring… Hope is in the air, trees are putting out tiny curled up things that will unfurl into leaves, the birds are gathering for their spring chorus every morning, snow is melting, and the poets are doing their poesy thing with joy. It’s a grand time.

It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold; when it is summer in the light and winter in the shade.
Charles Dickens

If you live where March comes on like that, you know what CD is talking about.

I wandered lonely
as a cloud
that floats on high
o’er vales and hills
When all at once
I saw a crowd,
a host, of golden
daffodils;
beside the lake,
beneath the trees,
fluttering and dancing
in the breeze.
William Wordsworth

Next time you’re outside on a spring day, be William Wordsworth and write about it like that.

Daffodowndilly
She wore her yellow sun bonnet,
She wore her greenest gown;
She turned to the south wind
And curtsied up and down.
She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
”Winter is dead.”
A.A. Milne

That is exactly what daffodils are saying when they flutter and dance and turn their heads to one another.

In the morning, one blog post will whisper to another, “The Blog is Dead.”

Monday, March 23, 2026 6:00 A.M.

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At 6:00 a.m. the birds twitter
The sun creeps o’er the earth
And dark night once again
Gives way to sunlight’s mirth

I stepped outside briefly this morning when I saw those first glimmers of sun spreading in the east. The birds were, indeed, a-twitterin’, the most cheerful sound you can hear on a cold spring morning.

Recovery from knee replacement surgery has been a long night, but I see glimmers of sun in the east.

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

The dark night of this post will give way to sunlight’s mirth in the morning.

Friday, March 20, 2026 The Jackdaw’s Story

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Our last writing assignment for the class was to write a poem inspired by the book The Magician’s Nephew. I chose to write one from the viewpoint of the jackdaw, featured in the glorious creation scene in the book. You might not “get” this poem if you haven’t read the book, but I hope you enjoy it anyway (and please do read all the Chronicles of Narnia). It felt incomplete without an illustration so I did a quick sketch for the occasion.

Darkness, then light
Stillness, then flight
The Singer makes,
The world awakes.
Sweetest singing
Sends me winging
I am Jackdaw
Hear me caw!

His nose to my beak
He is all that I seek
All eyes now on him
We leave our own kin.

His eyes steady burn
Our hearts strangely warm
Then breath like a fire
Soars ever higher

“You trees, be walking!
You beasts, be talking!
All Narnia is yours,
Seas, woods and stars.
I give you yourselves;
I give you myself.

“But on this bright morning
I give you clear warning,
The beasts who don’t speak
You must love and well treat.
Never walk in their ways
Lest your talking shall cease,
And your minds are undone;
You’ll be once again Dumb.”

“Hail Aslan, our King,”
We creatures all sing.
“We hear and obey,”
We gratefully say.
“And when you say ‘don’t’
We will not, we won’t.”

Perky with cheer
I sing out, “No fear!”
At the top of my voice.
(Unfortunate choice.)
Embarrassment deep,
I pretend I’m asleep.
While the others soon after
Erupt into laughter.

But joy upon joys
Aslan blesses the noise.
Humor’s divine,
So jokes are just fine.

I made the first joke!
I’m that kind of bloke!
Oh the stories they’ll tell
(I’ll be known quite well).

But wait, it gets better,
Hold on to your feathers,
For don’t you see?
The first joke was me!

The first joke was me!
I’m filled with glee,
I fall off the horse
But have wings, of course.
I’m flying, I’m happy
I’m funny, I’m flappy
I am Aslan’s Jackdaw
Just hear me caw!

I’ll probably wait for the caw of the jackdaw to delete this…in the morning.

Thursday, March 19, 2026 Dear Diary…

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Dear Diary,

We went forth early this morning in a dark, dense and mysterious fog. After a night of interrupted sleep coupled with obsessive dreams about the caramel pecan rolls I was bringing to Bible Breakfast, the fog felt just right. We kept our eyes peeled for deer that might decide that this was the perfect morning to jump in front of a car, and when I felt fears creeping in, I prayed, “Lord protect us from deer jumping in front of our car.” I don’t think the Lord needs flowery prayers at a time like that, do you? On the way home, it was still so foggy, we drove right past our house.

Every once in a while I go through my “Books to Read” list on Goodreads and order a slew of them from the library. I’m not sure why I don’t take a more tempered approach, like perhaps one or two at a time. This is apparently not my way. I have a stack of five in front of me that just came and I’m wondering if this is too many. I’m also in the middle of six or seven books at home. Wait, I just counted them – it’s eight. I got a phone call this morning from the library and there’s one more waiting for me there. Could this be some form of insanity? Inquiring minds want to know.

This morning I put Jeeves to work sweeping and mopping the dining room. I was listening to some orchestral music by Sir Edward Elgar and watching Jeeves go back and forth in front of me. Suddenly I realized I was watching a ballet with Jeeves gliding along the smooth hardwood floor putting in an occasional pirouette as he switched directions in time with the music. This just goes to prove that an imagination can make anything epic.

One last thought. We were telling our son recently about how we got rid of two large metal desks by putting them out on the curb on a nice sunny day with a “FREE” sign. We didn’t actually see who picked them up, but they were gone within a day. Our son suggested that maybe no one had picked them up. “Perhaps,” he said, “they took off for some wooded area nearby and have gone feral.” Doesn’t that idea just cry out for a whimsical poem? I’m giving it some thought.

Whimsically, Me

This post will be obscured by a dark, dense and mysterious fog in the morning.

Wednesday, March 18, 2026 The Workshop: The Father of Our Country

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Continuing on with my project of imitating some of the masters in painting, I tackled a painting called “General Washington on a White Charger.” The copy I have doesn’t attribute it to a particular painter, just “American School,” which is unhelpful.

I had to do some research on this, but the internet was very coy and not forthcoming on the topic. Nobody seemed willing to commit on what the American School was or who its painters were. I finally found one site that definitively attributed the painting to Nathaniel Currier, he of Currier and Ives fame. He lived from 1813 to 1888 and supposedly did this oil painting in 1845. His training was as a lithographer. Other tidbits: he served as a volunteer fireman in New York City, was a Unitarian, and a personal friend of P.T. Barnum (yes, the circus guy).

This was a really difficult painting! The original was oil, very detailed, and quite a bit larger in real life. My watercolor rendition is a lot messier. It looks better the farther away you are from it, but in case you want to get a better idea of the things I fudged on:

My purpose for copying paintings, however, was to learn as I go. I learned from this one that a lot of exquisite detail in a small space takes more talent than I’ve got. Having said that, I ended up being happy with the horse’s legs, his eye, and Washington’s pant leg. My Washington has a wry half-smile, as opposed to the more serious look in the original, but mine is rather more like an emoji face than I think is appropriate.

I’m going to give myself a little break and work on this painting by Joan Miro next week:

Maybe it will be a lot harder than I think.

Time to take off on the blog charger in the morning.

Tuesday, March 17, 2026 Commonplace Quotes: The Corned Beef and Cabbage Edition

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I don’t think we have a speck of Irish in our ancestry, but that does not keep us from observing the day with some corned beef and cabbage. If good Saint Patrick knew what the day commemorating his death turned out to be, he’d want to start banishing snakes again.

And now, for some quotes to feed your souls:

God alone spreads out the heavens,
and treads on the waves of the sea.
Job 9:8

I’ve been reading through Job again; it’s a very poetic book filled with little jewels like that one.

In the absence of any other truth,
the thumb alone would convince me
of God’s existence.
Sir Isaac Newton

And Newton was no slouch when it came to scientific thought. Consider the design and utility of your thumb and praise the One who made it.

Imagination bodies forth
the forms of things unknown,
the poet’s pen turns them into shapes
and gives to airy nothing
a local habitation and a name.
William Shakespeare

Just look at what Tolkien did in creating the world of Middle Earth and its inhabitants and languages. From airy nothing, he gave us hobbits, the Mines of Moria, Gandalf and Frodo.

A house with daffodils in it
is a house lit up,
whether or not the sun be shining outside.
A.A. Milne

There were small bunches of daffodils on sale at the grocery store this morning. I looked at them and thought about getting some but did not. Today would have been a good day to have a house lit up by daffodils. So ours got lit up by carrots instead:

Faith and begorrah, I might have to delete this in the morn!

Friday, March 12, 2026 Short Story: Hall of Tantrums

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This another writing assignment for the class I’m taking on The Habit (Writing with Digory). The assignment was to portray characters that are seeing something they don’t have a context for and are therefore confused.

I actually wrote this story for the grands a few months ago, but shortened it for the purposes of the assignment. The main character, Frilly, is a beanie baby that is a favorite of our granddaughter’s, so she often asks me to tell her “Frilly Stories.” Now you know!

Mr. and Mrs. StrongHorse took their filly, Frilly, to the fair, along with Frilly’s baboon friend, Cheeks. They spent a pleasant morning riding the carousel, watching Mr. StrongHorse run races, getting groomed, and eating fair food.

After lunch they strolled around the fairgrounds for a little while, enjoying the sights together. As they passed one building, they heard terrible cries and screams coming from inside. Frilly and Cheeks were frightened, but Mr. StrongHorse said, “Oh, that’s just the Hall of Tantrums – there’s nothing to fear there. Would you like to go inside? We’ll stay with you, and you’ll see some things that are very interesting.” Frilly and Cheeks were as curious as you should be.

The building inside was a hallway of videos on the wall. The sounds of screaming, wailing, crying and whining were coming from all around them, but as they stopped in front of each video, the other videos silenced automatically. The first one showed a little girl sobbing hysterically, her little face red and her eyes shut tight. “NOOOOOOO!” She was screaming. “I WANTED THE YELLOW CUP, NOT THE BLUE ONE!” And she said this over and over.

“Is she hurt?” Cheeks asked with some concern.

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” chuckled Mr. StrongHorse. “No, she’s upset because someone gave her some water in a cup that she didn’t want.”

Frilly and Cheeks watched in fascination. “So, she’s not hurt at all,” said Frilly, just to make sure.

“Oh, no, she’s perfectly fine!” explained Mrs. StrongHorse.

“But what difference does it make what color the cup is?” Cheeks couldn’t help asking.

“None at all! That’s what makes it sad and a little funny at the same time,” said Mr. StrongHorse.

“Let’s keep going,” said Frilly, quite interested now to see what was on the other videos.

The next one showed a little boy who had been using a crayon when it broke. His mother offered him a different one, but he threw it across the room in a fit, wailing “IT’S ALL RUINED! I CAN’T DO IT NOW!” and with that, he swept his hands across the table throwing everything on the floor. “RUINED!” And this scene played over and over as well.

Frilly and Cheeks spent a little too much time watching that one – each time the crayon broke and the boy threw a fit, they couldn’t help giggling. They started chanting “RUINED! RUINED!” until Mr. and Mrs. StrongHorse shushed them.

As they approached the next one, they heard the most awful noise – it made them want to cover their ears! Two little ponies had been told it was time to go to bed. They stomped their hoofs and shook their heads, all the while neighing and whining “IDONWANNA IDONWANNA IDONWANNA! IDONWANNA!” The noise was so annoying that the four of them moved quickly onward. Cheeks kept elbowing Frilly and whispering, “Those ponies looked a lot like you – ha ha!”

The next video was the last one in the hallway. Two young monkeys were each given a banana. The first monkey cried, “I WANTED THAT ONE! WHY DID SHE GET IT? HERS LOOKS BETTER THAN MINE! I WANT IT! I WANT IT!” And with that, he threw his perfectly good banana on the ground and stomped on it. Frilly and Cheeks were particularly interested in the way the banana squirted out of the skin when he stomped on it. Cheeks said, “Let’s watch it again- I can’t see any difference between the bananas, can you?” But there was no difference. Frilly couldn’t resist nudging Cheeks, saying, “That monkey looks a lot like you!”

They left the Hall of Tantrums and it was time to go home. Mr. and Mrs. StrongHorse trotted ahead of the two young ones, but could still hear them laughing and shouting, “RUINED!”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

And if this post is RUINED, it’ll be thrown on the floor in the morning.