Robin Hawke


Blog on Fire Award
July 29, 2011, 6:03 PM
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Thank you to  Writingfeemail for a Blog on Fire Award.  The award gets paid forward to ten bloggers and engages me to list seven things you may not know about me:

1) I can balance on one leg for over five minutes.

2) My second toe is shorter than my first toe.

3) I watch The Bachelorette and discuss the weekly results with a good friend, Phil. We inevitably come to the conclusion Phil should get the rose.

4) I reread books and rewatch movies, not necessarily because I want to—but because I can’t remember reading or watching them before. My memory is overstuffed.

5) My bucket list includes dancing with Ellen Degeneres.

6) I want to retire in a small town with a bakery, a butcher, a cheese shop, in other words, the American equivalent of Saint Vallier, France. If you know of one, please share the name with me.

7) I want an em dash on my keyboard.

I’m off to discover exciting new blogs. Check back for my ten Blog on Fire Awards.



Moonflower
July 25, 2011, 8:42 PM
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Moonflower



Flowers
July 21, 2011, 10:22 PM
Filed under: Emotions, Life and Stuff | Tags: , ,

It’s hotter than any day last summer. I went outside to see how my plants were faring and discovered the flowers were cheery and their leaves yellowed prematurely. My dog loped around, glad for a chance to sniff for the scents of twin fawns that have lost their mother to a road hazard. I cut yarrow and zinnia, cosmos and goldenrod. (I’ve learned to strip the leaves in the field, so they don’t litter the bottom of my sink, turning into a gooey mess.)

Inside, the air conditioner runs without stop. I snipped the stem of one bloom and placed it in a vase. One by one, I held up each flower against the arrangement in progress, determined its height and cut it accordingly.

My mother-in-law taught me not to snip flowers the same height. To this day, I don’t gather flowers without remembering that sage advice. For a few moments, I reflect on how much she loved her own garden and hope I didn’t forget to teach my daughters the same lesson.



Full Moons
July 15, 2011, 11:25 PM
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January hosts the Wolf Moon;

February the Snow Moon;

March the Crow or Worm Moon;

April the Egg or Pink;

May the Flower, also Milk;

June is Strawberry;

July brings the Thunder Moon;

August the Red;

September is Harvest;

October the Hunters Moon;

November is Beaver;

and December the Cold Moon.

Every two or three years, there’s a Blue Moon, an extra full moon. Any one of the above may also be a Red Moon, tinted by particles in the atmosphere.

 



Anguish and Repetition
July 14, 2011, 10:43 PM
Filed under: Emotions, Life and Stuff | Tags: ,

Reading romances leads one to wonder about the inner lives of characters. So many heroines and heroes keep secrets, refusing to divulge them until their thoughts have rounded the bend almost as many times as a race car at the Indy 500. Even on the straight away, characters feel a strong need to ponder and delay until they bank another curve.

I’ll drive one lap with the character, but I’ll bail on the second. I’d enjoy more candor, even if  I know it will shorten books into stories.



How Love Works
July 13, 2011, 11:25 PM
Filed under: Love and Romance | Tags: , , , ,

Aphrodisiacs, chemicals, and hormones–love depends on a natural high.  Giddy with desire, blissed out with fantasy, love addicts are people bound together with chains as influential as DNA.  Blind, but feeling, love prioritizes life. Like adrenaline, it prefers excitement and danger and fights and wild conversation. When it leaves, it scorns its hosts. They never understand the sweaty palms, the flirtatious glances, the consuming passions were chemical bonds. They opt for pity and tears and everlasting withdrawal.

Friendship, admiration, respect, lucky lovers are given a substitute drug–without the violent high, but with longer effect.



July 8, 2011, 12:00 AM
Filed under: Quotations | Tags: ,

We need, in love, to practice only this: letting each other go. For holding on comes easily; we do not need to learn it.

—Rainer Maria Rilke