Image of Daffodils showing off.

    Tales from the trail 

      What will become of the daffodil family as            newcomers to Flower Town? 

      I've obtained the following correspondence  from friends who will remain anonymous. 

    After reading this, I hope you'll extend your patience and enthusiastic support for the springtime leaders everywhere. 

          

The Daffodil Family at 217 Flower Lane:

Welcome to the neighborhood! We are delighted your family planted itself in Flower Town, where we strive to cultivate a safe place for all to bloom. We are here to nourish and support you and your family. 

The committee requests your presence at our spring block party. It’s a traditional event celebrating the arrival of spring. Consider the occasion as a wonderful opportunity to meet the neighbors. Don’t be late!

Sincerely, in springtime showers and sunshine,

The Flower Committee

Dear Committee:

Thank you for the warm welcome. We look forward to helping beautify Flower Lane, meeting our neighbors, and honoring the long-awaited arrival of spring.

Regards,

Sunbeam, Misty and the kids

 

Dear Sunbeam,

We are eager to meet you. Please expect an informal visit prior to the party to review your role as springtime leader.  

Sincerely, in springtime showers and sunshine,

Harold, President of the Flower Committee

 

Dear Harold,

It’s an honor to serve in a spring leadership role. I appreciate you meeting me during the busiest time of the season.  

Sincerely,

Sunbeam    

 

Dear Sunbeam,

My deep-rooted apologies as I have to cancel my pre-party visit because of the heavy rains in the forecast. That, and I am over committed. Let’s plan a brief meeting on the morning of the block party.

Sincerely, in springtime showers and sunshine,

Harold, President of the Flower Committee

 

Dear Sunbeam,

Members of the Committee are hurt that you failed to show at the party. They are a tough bunch with grand expectations. Despite my efforts, the Committee is sending a harsh letter. If you respond swiftly, you’ll still have the opportunity to participate in the spotlight tour.

The Committee and I are here to encourage you to flourish.

Sincerely,

Harold

 

Dear Daffodil Family:  

The committee and I missed you and your family at the block party. Please know your contributions are vital to spread happiness to human kind.   

We demand an explanation as to your absence. Please respond at your earliest convenience.

The Flower Committee

 

Dear President and Flower Committee:

Thank you for your concern. A furry orange beast violated our property and traumatized the kids last night. This tabby cat targets and terrorizes the entire neighborhood.

We will emerge when I feel it’s safe for my family.

Regards,

Sunbeam

Dear Daffodil Family

We will investigate this complaint immediately. We pride ourselves on protecting our members—even the late bloomers.

Regards,

Harold 

Dear Committee:

We plan to stay, but I suggest stepping up the protection efforts. Flower Town is a dangerous place. Misty still has nightmares about the gray squirrel gang kidnapping one of our children in broad daylight. Our sweet tender bulb is buried somewhere deep in the woods.

Yours Sadly,

Sunbeam

PS—Misty is mourning and the dig about late bloomers is cruel.

 

Dear Sunbeam and Misty,

We are sending a gift of fertilizer as our apology. All our watch dogs are on high alert for the furry terror, alias Tiger, should she arrive in our circle.

I am happy you will remain in Flower Town.  

Fondly,

Harold

 

I bring you the second half of a musing of the mundane and necessary renewal of the driver's license. I did learn "smiling" for your license's picture is acceptable. 

An Honest Account of What Happens at the DMV: Part Two 

Overheard in the DMV line on a Wednesday. “I was here earlier. The line was longer.” Another waiting person chimed in to add, “The other location had even longer lines. That’s why I came here.” 

People stand in a haphazard queue, which stretches around the block. Older couples lean on one another while the younger set stares at their phones in the midday sun. My impatience nudges me to walk away, come back another day. I reason I have weeks before my driver’s license expires.

Quit now or wait? The debate ends as I start a conversation with a friendly woman nearby.   

Rumor has it that anyone with a camera card can walk in without waiting. Supposedly, a guard will come out and usher the camera card renewal folks inside. Let’s try it. Four of us, clutching our camera cards as if they are passports to enter DMV’s short line, walk to the door. No guard is inside or outside. Only an empty chair. No instructions on the door. Only the hours.

Sun is beating down, and there’s not a sliver of shade. I’m hot and thirsty. Today, I have a book but not a hat. A middle-aged woman exits the building and looks relieved to see the sunlight. “What a pain in the ass. Good thing you brought a book,” she said, looking at my paperback. “I almost finished my book,” she said, waving it around.

The door opens, and a guard appears. We flash our cards, and the guard dressed in gray escorts us to a booth. The search for a short line works. An efficient worker doles out the magic number (A-279).  

Uplifted. I feel the weight of the wait disappear because numbered slip states only two people are ahead of me. My book stays closed. I chat with my new DMV friend who is fidgeting and looking at her phone. She has to leave soon to pick up her kids. Her number is next up.

Vexed. We watch the numbers and wonder what happened to “A” numbers? Only those with “I” and “E” before the number are called.

We wait and watch. What is going on? I open my book, but I can’t concentrate. It’s quiet except for an automated female voice announcing the numbers. Finally, it’s my turn. I follow the directions: “Look at the blue square. You can smile if you want to.” Of course I smile!

X. I sign my name after the X on the screen.   

Yay! My new ID card will arrive in four to six weeks.

Zooming away after a productive? afternoon at the DMV. 

Image of Unhappy at the DMV.   

It’s time to renew my driver’s license. This musing  comes to you before my visit to the friendly  Department of Motor Vehicles. 

Not all my experiences have be dreadful, but I do dread this necessary venture to the DMV.

An Honest Account: What Happens at the DMV

• Arrival: Take a number. Usually it’s a three-digit number like 813, that shows your place in line. It’s only 9 a.m.
• Book. Your book is at home, not in your bag. Now, invent stories about the 25 strangers stuck in the waiting room.
• “Cellphone Use Prohibited.” People ignore the handwritten signs. Everyone around you is talking into their cellphones on speaker mode, using their outdoor voices. Nobody is reprimanded. One timid woman mutters under her breath, but you aren’t sure what’s bothering her.      
• During the five minutes you are in the restroom, you sense you’ve missed your turn. When you ask the friendly-looking person in the first row, the one person not on their phone, about your number. He shrugs his shoulders. You look at the monitor, which reads number 15.     
• Egads! What’s that odor? The guy who reeks of cigarettes and dirt. What’s that cloying smell? It’s the scent when strawberries and passion fruit collide.  
• For real? The two people who came in after you are already leaving with smiles and paperwork.    
• Guessing games. Who is up next? You study the clerks behind the windows. Who will give you the eye test.    
• Hallelujah! It’s your turn. You pass the eye test, correctly answer all the questions, and have your picture taken.
• “Is this photo alright?” the kind person behind the window asks. You know darn well that photo doesn’t capture your inner beauty. The expression is all wrong.
• Jeez. Could you take it again, please? This time, you ignore her directions and give her a big smile.
• Keeper! The photo is a keeper.  License is mailed to you in four to six weeks.  
• Maybe you’ll be back in five years to renew your license.
• No, you’ll be back, unless you own a flying car by then, in which case, you will not need a license. But you could need a Real ID, also available at select DMVs.     

Image of Marty the robot at work.

 Who is checking you out at the grocery store?

    Marty, that’s who. It’s the annoying slender robot roaming the aisles following shoppers. Or maybe it only lurks and hums behind me. Marty is Giant’s googly-eyed slender silver robot that runs on lithium batteries.

    Its job? Marty monitors the aisles and alerts management about messes silently. No chant of “Cleanup on aisle four!” when a broken bottle of salad dressing creates a slipping hazard.

    Marty performs this job without an attitude or any gratitude. Safety first. But this silver one’s secondary role is spotting out of stock items on the shelves. The grocery chain’s leadership claims Marty is not meant to replace employees.

    But the employees at my Giant do not like this guy.

    

“Marty’s a jerk,” an employee says to me without explaining why. 

    The employee rolls her eyes and turns back to her work. My guess is Marty trails behind her too and gets in the way. Well, that’s too bad. It cannot talk, only beep or chirp. But Marty can and has run away, escaping out of the automatic doors and rolling into the parking lot. 

    Did it want better wages, working conditions, or company?

    As a non-robot, I enjoy micro-conversations during my routine errands. But with more self-checkout stations, I’m doing more scanning and less talking.

    I am not longing for deep discussions with strangers, and it’s rare to dive into topics that transcend the ordinary. But who stands behind the register matters. In my experience, three archetypes exists like “Transactional Tom,” “Be My Friend Betsy,” or “No Name I Don’t Care.” Sound familiar?  

    Transactional Tom is polite, efficient, and exudes confidence. He doesn’t need to look up the rutabaga price that stumps the average checkout employee. His expectations are simple: sell you the goods and accept your payment.  

    While Be My Friend Betsy makes eye contact, smiles, and begins talking. In five minutes, she tells you her special story. She earned a master’s degree in social work. She misses her old life. She’s happy/unhappy to be back living in her childhood home. Do not worry because you will learn more details next time. Betsy needs someone to listen and nod. I find this personality type thrives in small town stores.

    Unfortunately, the I Don’t Care employee works in every town. This person makes you feel responsible for their unhappy state using their loud indifference and silent irritation. 

    Usually, they don’t look at you, but you see their smirk waiting to emerge. A gruff barking voice asks: “What is this” as they fondle the fennel in their hands. I answer, bag my own food, zip pay, and rush out in case his condition is contagious. 

    I do not want a case of indifference. The price is too high. 

 

 

 

Image of sailboat on calm waters. 

How are you feeling?

    Let’s dive in and try a different approach. Describe yourself as a body of water.

    Are you the crystal clear calm water winking at the puffy white clouds? Perhaps you are peering over a roaring waterfall? Are you caught in a riptide of emotions?

    This prompt is an creative exercise that provides insight too. Waves can gently rock or crash over us. It’s all in the interpretation. For example, I’m navigating white water rapids every single day. Tell me more: Are you terrified or thrilled?

    Here’s a more common experience: I’m on course, then a huge wake makes me lose focus. I struggle to steer while being tossed and turned.

    Imagine yourself on a sailboat, enjoying an easy nine knots of wind. Then, a speeding motor vessel whose captain is oblivious or reckless creates a tremendous wake. Or the new boss’ actions cause a ripple effect throughout the organization.  

    And you can change the question. What type of body of water makes you happy? A refreshing tall glass of water or a beaker full of pond water?

    It depends.

    Perhaps you believe a smelly sample of pond scrum is a rotten wish? It’s a dream for scientists of all sorts. Because the murky water is teeming with organisms to study. A discovery awaits!

***

    What body of water am I?

    My answer changes every day and each season. In the winter, I shall join the icicles decorating the trees, melting in the sun’s rays. Or I become a snow-covered pond inviting skaters to glide gracefully across.

    In the spring, let me serve as the home for my friends — the chirping frogs and croaking toads giving free concerts. During the heat of the summer, make me a giant puddle for splashing and singing in the rain. Or turn me into an infinity swimming pool. When autumn arrives, I seek solitude as a stream collecting a parade of leaves.

 

What Paint Shade Should I Choose? 

Variety is the enemy of easy and speedy decision making. That’s my take after visiting the local paint store. 

    My eyes gloss over a plethora of paint colors whether historic, designer, traditional, or suburban modern color categories.

    I disregard the designer (most expensive) line.  As much as I adore authentic revolutionary color schemes, it doesn’t suit the house’s personality. Or mine. 

    Besides, I need white. Easy?

    Absolutely not, thanks to the hundreds of choices. Each color carries an alluring name like divine white, restful white, and snowbound. Soon, I shift from looking at the name rather than the color. Would the crisp linen color smell like fresh laundry? Could a coating of restful white create a feeling of calm? Sure, with imagination.

    These names are to evoke an emotion, create an image, or reflect a lifestyle. Consider how you would feel about painting your walls wolf moon, dirty snow, or flickering fluorescent? These names I just made up feel too bold, ugly, and unsettling for the average person. 

    What are this store’s most popular shades? The answer is on the back of the paint panels, like those  nature center exhibits, testing its visitors knowledge of say paw prints. 

    Flip, flip, flip. My favorites don’t match the answers. I feel a jolt of happiness knowing this about myself. And I’m not surprised because this is my life pattern. For example, I like the swish of cross-country skies over the whoosh of downhill skiing. Sailboats rule over powerboats. An electric vehicle gets me charged up.  

    My philosophy is to eat more plants and less meat. Tea talk vs. coffee chat. Plus, I’d rather be reading instead of watching a movie.   

    Color me different, and I’m fine with it. As for paint samples, I am leaning toward the warm whites hinting of yellow rather than the cool whites with traces of blue and grey.

    How does morning sun sound as a comforting color? Both the color and the name made it to the final round among my final 20 shades of white.

    Stay tuned.

Image of open journal inviting me to write. 

What are your New Year’s Resolutions?

In 2025, I vow to use and enjoy without guilt things saved. 

My pristine collection of leather bound journals deserve attention. I run my hand across the smooth leather covers. Opening the oldest journal, I admire the heavy brown paper within and a ribbon marking my last written entry. The newer book features a stamped tree design on its cover and a leather strap bookmark. 

Every page is empty. Each journal intimidates and invites me to write at the same time. But what will I write? I feel pressure to produce profound and journal-worthy material.

Then I shake this worry off and laughing to myself. Profound thoughts, huh? Who am I?

Well, I’m not a philosopher. Call me a discovery writer who starts writing without knowing where she’ll end up. It’s like following an unknown trail in the woods, getting lost, and finding your way out again and again.

My mighty Waterman pen and I must begin somewhere. The pen, a treasured gift, feels heavy with the weight of our challenge. 

What matters is the act of thinking and the discipline of writing. The ideas will flow—slow or fast. Some days, serious words will build on each other. Other days, my words may swirl across the page in a flimsy, light, or whimsical way.

Maybe these words bond becoming a haiku, or my list becomes a prose poem, or I create complete nonsense. I’ve decided it’s time well spent.

I hope you make time for your resolutions and have fun achieving them.

***

            Here’s a poem I wrote inspired by an embroidered guest towel. 

If Only 

If onlys, small regrets, lost honor 
steal time, joy, and pride
before learning forgiveness. 

Guest towels, fancy soaps, bath bombs
lose softness, scent, and shape
before pampering family.      

Fine china, crystal goblets, real silver
collect chips, dust, and dullness
after serving only visitors.  

Fig jam, lemon curd, kumquat jelly
turn bitter, sour, and ugly
before spoiling anyone.

Knit mittens, patchwork quilts, wooly scarves   
become lost, worn, and forgotten
after warming no child.

Fine paper, fountain pens, custom seals
will fade, dry, and crack
after writing no words.

Diamond pendants, black pearls, gold rings 
define style, wealth, and love  
before adorning anyone.    

Little luxuries, prized objects, cherished gifts
forge customs, gratitude, and memories
every day and always.