What day is it? Those sprouts among the Persian New Year decorations got left (as is traditional) at the park to regenerate in their own way, but first K-D-doggie had a fun time tossing them about, a fun substitute for the squirrels and rabbits she was forbidden to chase.
Click H-E-R-E for my podcast page at AnchorFM. This week’s show is the audio version of the post below this blog post of “DIY Fondant Peonies by Robbie Cheadle.”
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Persian New Year, always on the first day of Spring, is celebrated in Iran and many other countries. For some it’s secular, for others it isn’t, but for anyone who does, it’s a major holiday. The same goes for Sizdeh Bedar, also known as Nature day, which thirteen days later marks the end of the celebration.
People wish my husband and me all kinds of things around now. It would have been easy to laugh this year when we were wished a happy Purim and a happy Ramadan. However, it’s sweet that anyone wishes us goodwill and that they know something non-United-States-originated is happening about now.
Sorry, I didn’t snap any pictures of us, my husband and extended family, celebrating Sizdeh Bedar last weekend. We were all too shivery. Under chilly (at least for us thin-skinned Angelinos) gray skies, we had fun despite our shoulders hunched to our ears and our hands buried deep into our pockets. We ate quickly before picnic foods cooled from tepid to cold, like the fresh bread I baked that morning, and Khashayar’s thick noodle stew with beans (better known as Aash Reshteh) that he’d wrapped to keep warm like a baby.
K-D-doggie was desperate to check out the many squirrels and bunnies at the park where we gathered. Nonetheless, she was a very very good doggie because so long as she got some affection, she didn’t bark, run, or whine.
If a thirteen day can potentially ward off evil spirits, then it’s okay that it was a grim one. Several days later, we’ve got a heatwave, up from the 60s to the 90s. Rain or shine, one can’t predict what’ll happen in April, the month of my birthday, of April Fools, of tax returns needing to be submitted —and we’ve got my brother-in-law coming. No one knows how it’ll wind up for him, how challenging it might be for him to acclimate, yet we hope for the best and are excited to see him.
I wish the planet well, that our leaders will commit to more than grandstanding and worse. Leaders who don’t mind the oblivion that can result from working for peace. Harmony provides far less spectacular headlines than warring and experimenting with iffy new currencies.
Today’s guest, Timo Schmitz, blogs from Germany. He describes himself as a language fanatic, philosopher, journalist, poet, and book author. Visit his site for more about him and more of his thoughtful poems like this one…
Dark Ink by Timo Schmitz
Dark ink, dark as the coming night,
Flows down this piece, with no delight,
Scratches the paper and forming a river,
While my emotions start to shiver.
So many mem’ries I wanted to put inside,
How much I fought for us, how you left me aside,
That I can’t forget you, even after time has passed,
And that your shade on my heart still lasts.
When the summer sun on the photo vanishes,
And the first snow of the winter comes,
Knowing your life goes on, as if you never knew me,
While without you, I don’t really feel free.
My breath, my deep breath,
When my heart felt like it stopped,
When I saw in deep in your eyes,
Eating up this black death.
I give you my kingdom in dreams,
Yet dreams they must stay,
Not to worry, not to hurry,
Because now you are far away.
Black ink dries up, becoming one with the paper,
We are separated both, now and maybe later,
Won’t drown in your seductive ocean’s wave,
Not melting down a grove, each one staying in one’s cave.
Can’t we free ourselves?
You know I adore you,
I am not me anymore!!!
But again, I want to be myself.
How is your year faring?