Author Archives: gayle

About gayle

Gayle Blancett delights in living, breathing, and seeing the world through the windows of wherever she may be, in the eyes of those she meets, and in the air around her. Her poems explore simple yet significant truths in everyday situations and observations to stimulate thought and personal growth. After years of traveling and living around the world with her husband, they are at home in Salado, Texas. Topping her list of prized accomplishments are a husband of 44 years, grown children, and the most wonderful crop of grandchildren a grandmother could hope to have.

CHERISHED CUP OF CALM

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Sitting in my reclining chair,

Snuggled among the wee hours of the quiet still morning,

Savoring the abundance of calm

That is impossible to experience

In the light of the day,

The smell of brewing coffee beckons me.

 

In complete contrast to the ringing of telephones,

The chattering of media

That routinely invades the daytime hours,

And the rushing sounds of various motors and wheels,

Speeding on pavement and churning the air

As they pass in the distance.

In this time, I can savor a calm sip of coffee.

 

The peaceful darkness is only interrupted

By the occasional refrigerator and heat pump motors

As they cycle on to do their nightshift work,

And the slight movements of the dog

As he snores and dreams in his bed by the fireplace.

It is now, that I can truly enjoy another sip of coffee.

 

Not long before the quiet calm

Gives way to a bird’s song and a rooster’s crow,

My coveted visit with myself is replaced with

Invading thoughts of busy plans and noisy chores.

The light of the new day crawls slowly over the horizon

And now I empty my cup of its last cherished and invigorating sip of coffee.

TURNING LOOSE OF THE ARMS OF THE OAK TREE

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The rooster’s crow will soon be replaced

By the sprinkling sound of the pool’s artificial falls

The dancing trees twisting and bending in the wind

Now pushed away, replaced with wired music filling every space

As it squeezes to escape through meshed rectangles imbedded discretely in the walls

 

The safe hermitage hidden behind an automatic gate and

Protected by the ancient arms of giant live oak trees

Is now abandoned, traded for a prominently displayed welcome mat

Playing the opening act for glass walls and a magnetic pool of captured water

 

Excitement, anticipation, sadness, and hard work confuse the heart

Fresh choices filled with unseen horizons and perspectives

Stretch the imagination to extreme contortion

Refusing to concede to time boundary penetration

 

Limited by ones own decisions, helpless against destiny,

And bound by personal circumstances,

The journey is lived one second at a time

Awed by prospects and driven by a quest for purpose

 

With cherished friends and memories clinched close

Humility, compassion, and gratitude anchored deeply in the soul,

Past and future hopes blend to reveal the present realities and exciting

Possibilities of today soon to be followed by tomorrow

 

UNEXPECTED TREASURES

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Proverbs 12:14 (NIV) 

From the fruit of his lips a man is filled with good things as surely as the work of his hands rewards him.

On a cold snowy December afternoon, I got out of my car in the wide-open, windy, industrial area parking lot of the United Parcel Distributing Center, in Virginia Beach, Virginia.  The warehouse, designed to streamline the handling of increased seasonal bulk, had been set up with a conveyor belt and efficient wrap-around waiting line.  It was difficult and exhausting to make the hike from the car, laden with awkward and delicately balanced packages.  The thought of seeing this enormous task to completion gave me the additional energy needed.  Upon completion, I sighed with relief and practically skipped toward my car to return home.

 

While basking in joy, my eyes were captured and held hostage by an elderly woman wearing an outdated, mothball scented coat, balancing herself against the icy wind with a cane in one hand and holding her car door open with the other.  She was struggling with four huge packages that must have taken her days just to tape closed.  It was obvious she was attempting the impossible.  I rushed to help her. After her task had been completed and I had escorted her back to her car, she smiled and thanked me graciously.  We both went our ways never to see each other again.

 

The gift I had given her was much appreciated, but the gift she gave me was priceless.  She had added personal meaning to the seasonal frenzy of gift giving.  Her vivid image and the gratifying feelings I received from being able to help her at the perfect moment, had captured the essence of the season.  This nameless woman was given a place of honor in my Christmas treasure chest of precious memories.

 

Prayer:  Help me God, recognize the opportunities each day to act according to Your perfect example.

Thought for the Day

Unexpected fruits of our labors of love are by far the sweetest.

Prayer Focus

Unselfish motives

PLAY DOUGH RECIPES CAN SAVE THE DAY

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A play dough recipe has saved the day through the years more than once with the children in my life.  It is fun to make together and even more fun to cut, shape, and design.  Add a few lids, cookie cutters, plastic utensils, and /or rolling pins and the imagination does the rest.  Most all pantries already have the ingredients on their shelves.  I never tried the Edible recipe, but it looked interesting when I found it in my recipes.  The others always worked for me.

 

PLAY DOUGH FOR KIDS # 1

 

1-cup flour

½ cup salt

1-cup water

1 T. cooking oil

1-teaspoon cream of tartar

Food coloring

 

Combine ingredients and heat stirring constantly until the mixture thickens to a large ball.  Dump on waxed paper and knead to remove any lumps.  Store in a plastic bag or in airtight container.

 

 

PLAY DOUGH RECIPE # 2

 

3 cups flour

1/ ½ cups salt

3 cups water

1 Tablespoon vegetable oil

1 Tablespoon cream of tartar

A few drops of food coloring (OR 1 package unsweetened Kool-Aid)

 

Mix together in a saucepan.  Cook over low heat, stirring intermittently until the dough comes away from the edges and is thick and difficult to move the spoon.  Let dough cool in pan until it can be handled.  Turn out on waxed paper and knead 3 or 4 times.  Play!  Store in airtight bag or container.

 

 

Play Dough # 3 EDITABLE PLAY DOUGH

 

¼ cup honey

1/4/cup creamy peanut butter

1-teaspoon vanilla extract

1 cup dry milk powder

 

Slowly mix honey, peanut butter, and vanilla flavoring in a mixing bowl until creamy.  Gradually add dry milk a little at a time while mixing slowly.  If mixture is sticky, add more dry milk.  Add water if mixture is too dry.  Knead for consistency.

 

Store in airtight bag or container and store at room temperature.  Mixture can be stored for a few days.

 

If desired, place shaped dough on a cookie sheet in a preheated oven at 200 degrees for 30 minutes or until dry.

DAD’S LESSONS AND A TRAIL OF TREASURES (Papa Stub to the grandchildren)

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Dad taught us many things

Through expeditions up mountains, along trails,

Sunday afternoon car rides

And picnicking at a scenic creek, mountain, or roadside park

 

Discipline, endurance, fun, and adventure

Stinging nettles, stink bugs, milkweeds and snakes

Digging in sand dunes, wading in a cool spring,

Skipping a rock across the water

All were lessons wrapped in fun

 

The pain of the hot mid-day July Texas sun

And the power of an unexpected rain shower on a hike

The feel of loblollies made at the edge of a stock tank

And the taste of frog legs deep-fried in granny’s old country kitchen

 

Moss grows on the north side of a tree

Don’t go spelunking without first telling dad

Catch a possum by the tail, chase an armadillo,

But never ever disturb a skunk

 

Prickly pears hurt, although they can be good to eat

It is fun to make a bow and arrow

From a limb of a nearby willow tree

 

There is no need to hurt or kill another living creature

Not daddy long leg spiders, ugly insects,

Nor even killer bees

 

Clear the rocks on many hot days from a lake lot,

Then dump truckloads of fill stones on top

Quickly teach new depths of gratitude

For cooling dips in the lake

 

Dad could play happy songs on a French harp

Or on his personally made electric guitar

He fashioned flute like whistles from cane grown beside a creek

And his drums were beautifully crafted from wood

 

He could walk on his hands from the front yard to the back

And easily throw us high in the air when we begged

He was loved and feared all in the same breath

And his lessons remain with us still today

 

His comfort in daily routine

And his lifelong passion for woodwork

Enabled the creating of daily objects of beauty

Marking his time spent in joyful productivity

And resulting in a trail of treasures for others to admire

 

 

WALKING WITH DINOSAURS

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I walk the earth with the dinosaurs

Divided only by time

Fossils scrapbook their journey

As the wind sings a same song

 

I share the sky with the *Archaeopteryx

When my eyes slice through the willowy clouds

And kindred winds tickle my skin

As I drink in the sun’s consoling warmth

 

For each new earthly wind,

Cloud, sunshine, and walk,

Offer exhilarating freshness

For the dinosaurs, me,

And all the creatures to follow

 

 

*Archaeopteryx – “one of a family of extinct reptile like birds of the Jurassic period”

ROOSTER’S CROW *(TMI)

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The morning song heard through the cool open window

Is the rooster’s crow hidden deeply in the shadow of the moon

Laboriously, he hoists the sun

To once again close its journey circle

 

Anticipation for the day’s agenda

Already lays heavy on my brow

Testing personal expectations

And creating deficiency apprehensions

 

How I yearn for the simple days of youth

When life burdens did not strain weakened muscles

And pull relentlessly against the tendons

Toughened through experience

 

Then, the roosters just crowed

The sun simply came up

Expectations were routine

And I did not comprehend the lyrics

 

*(TMI) a current acronym used in some circles for “too much information”

MUSIC IN MY EARS

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An iPod in my ear

Brings me cheer

Drapes my thoughts with a cape

And lets me escape

An iPod in my ear

Takes away fear

Can correct a mood

And help my troubles to elude

An iPod in my ear

Can restart my daily gear

Put a bounce in my step

So the floors can be happily swept

An iPod in my ear

Increases surprises from the rear

But there it will surely stay

Because we all know an “Apple” keeps the doctor away

PERFECTLY CHOSEN GIRLS

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Two daughter-in laws

Individual and vastly different

As all the seasonal springs and falls

 

Special and unique,

With they’re perfected

Talents and technique

 

Sparkles from my son’s eyes dart

Directed only to his

Very own sweetheart

 

Choices and affections are easy to understand

For they too are as antipodal

As the daily ocean sand

 

How happy to know each has found

The perfect mate

To hold his feet on the ground

 

Honest, smart, and beautiful, to see

Good loving mothers

They have shown to be

 

The same?

This,

They will never claim

 

But they are perfection

Each to their own

Love and direction

HER NAME IS FEAR

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What is that loud sound?

No one should be around

Is someone at the door?

 

There it goes again

It was much louder then

I do not want to hear more

 

The gate is locked

No one should have knocked

I am frightened to the core

 

All my courage I seek

Tiptoeing to the door I peek

The horse is rubbing its butt against the door!

 

Smiling as I walked her back

To the waiting hay stack

Relieved that Fear was no longer knocking at my door

 

 

MIRAGE

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Following the path of age was long and treacherous

Mud balls of ideals and experiences

Carefully collected along the way

Stuck secure and heavy to my feet

 

Overflowing responsibilities

Carefully gathered, stuffed in a pack,

And securely strapped to my back

Simultaneously strengthened and weakened me

 

Priding myself with the treasures I obtained

And armed with undaunted focus on easy times to come

I forged forward, compelled and burdened

With dutiful determination griped on my face

 

Finally seeking to redeem earned treasures

Redemption had turned to a mirage

Always disappearing just as I reached to claim it

The unobtainable reward had simply been the journey itself