Celebrate Spring

 

Oh, to see the wonder of God's beautiful world through the eyes of an innocent child!

On the first day of March,

my great-niece drew

chalk art on the driveway.

Hearts and flowers

dazzled in purple and red,

she jumped on a hopscotch.

The precious two-year-old

laughed as she plucked

the first jonquils of spring.

They sparkled like sunrays

as she gave me a bouquet.

A flock of robins cut

through the azure skies

and spread an orange quilt

across the greening field.

The thrill of spring

yielded a joyful face,

she did not waste a moment.

                 --Brenda Kay Ledford

It's beginning to look a lot like spring here in the Blue Ridge Mountains.  The little jonquils have popped up, the maples swell with red buds, the forsythia bush is bursting forth like yellow bells, the grass is greening, and the birds are singing their little hearts out with joyful tunes.  I love spring.

Wishing all my blogger friends an awesome springtime!

Randy Wright Passes Away

 My brother-in-law, Randolph (Randy) Wright passed away last Friday.  He was a wonderful man and we all miss him very much.  He married my sister, Barbara.  They had 50 very happy years of marriage.  Randy was a music professor at Gardner-Webb College, sang in the church choir, and played the chimes after church.  His hobby was miniature trains and he loved to read his Bible.  He was a man of faith and a very kind, and generous person.  His sense of humor kept our family laughing when we got together.  I have written two poems in memory of him.  I am glad we have the blessed assurance of that "Grand Reunion Day" in heaven.

Memory of Randy Wright

In mid-winter,

a bluebird fluttered

outside my window.

Snowflakes twirled

like handfuls of confetti

over the mountaintops.

Like skimmed milk,

the clouds parted

playing the keys

on a piano

in an ocean

of sapphire skies.

Angel clouds floated

and flowed to the beat

of the music,

as the concert pianist

performed his grand recital

at the gates of pearl.

           --Brenda Kay Ledford 

The Concert Pianist

Descended from farmers,

bankers, and Methodist ministers,

Randy had a remarkable gift

for playing the piano.

Devoting his life to teaching music,

his favorite composers were:

Frederic Chopin

and Vladimir Horowitz.

An avid chorist,

he served many years

playing the church bells

and singing in the church choir.

Such was his love for the Lord,

Randy's life touched many people.

                      --Brenda Kay Ledford 

Happy Valentine's Day

 Each morning He paints

the skies with red-hot hearts,

and splashes pink lemonade

across the mountaintops.

Each morning He sends

the cardinals to perch

in the poplar trees

and sing love songs to me.

Each morning a doe

and her polka-dotted fawn

skip across my front lawn

filling my heart with joy.

Each spring He brings

boquets of roses to show

the greatest love of all:

God sent His only Son.

              --Brenda Kay Ledford

Wishing my blogger friends a beautiful Valentine's Day!

Happy New Year

 Another year is calling.

Open the door

to hope as light

breaks through the night.

Mix the batter

to fix 2026,

peace and love

are the ingredients

to rise above gloom.

The doom of last year,

trouble and fear, lurking

nearby, cannot cause

a cheerful heart to fall.

Bring out the bells,

light the fireworks and have

a Happy New Year!

         --Brenda Kay Ledford

I wish my blogger friends a happy, healthy, and blessed New Year!

Christmas Wreath

 I took a class on making a Christmas wreath at the Clay County Extension Office.  Kimberly Terrell, Clay County Extension Director and Macon County Extension Agent of Family and Consumer Sciences, taught the class.

It was a lot of fun and just put me into the Christmas spirit.  Everyone in my class made beautiful and creative Christmas wreaths.  It was the first time I had ever made a wreath and I enjoyed creating my wreath very much.

Here's a photo of my wreath:

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to my blogger friends.

Smoky Mountain Snow

 The first snow falling

excites me most of all.

Flakes twirl like doilies

spreading a downy blanket

across the brittle grass.

"Ma Ledford is dusting

her featherbed," Mama said

when I was a child

begging to go outside

and play in the snow.

Donning layers of clothing,

big brother Harold and I rolled

huge balls of snow and stacked

them to make a jolly snowman.

Rover yelped and stamped

paw prints on the crystalline carpet.

Sister Barbara brought her red scarf,

Daddy shared his black hat

for the fat man to wear,

Mama stuck a carrot in the snowman's nose,

my feet froze in the boots.

I looted Mama's box of buttons

and found two big ones that

she cut from Granddaddy's worn-out coat,

and gave the snowman his eyes.

Mama grabbed a dishpan,

scooped up fresh-pure powder,

I did a happy dance 

and our family savored

the delicious snow cream.

As a child, I jumped and screamed

when ole' man winter handed

out his poke of treats,

and created a magical wonderland.

            --Brenda Kay Ledford

Poke:  A mountain term for a bag.

I hope all my blogger friends will have a blessed Thanksgiving and very happy holiday.

THE POWER OF LOVE

 My mother, Blanche, and my daddy, Rondy, when they got married in 1939.

Spread love everywhere you go.

           --Mother Teresa

Far from the world,

at the Hawkins Cove during 1936,

cowbells ring in the pasture.

The sun rising like fire

over the Davy Mountain,

frost glitters like gems

in the pumpkin patch.

Chores never end on the farm.

Blanche feeds the Silkies

apple peelings and cornbread.

Alone in the coop,

she hums a hymn

and thinks about her beau.

The hens peck and preen,

she holds a chirping chick

stroking its fluffy feathers.

Gathering eggs from the nest,

Blanche carries them in a basket

Aunt Mae wove from river cane.

Trading at the country store,

she got staples, some cloth to make a dress,

and a tube of lipstick for her sisters.

Rondy is walking across Aquone

from the Civilian Conservation Corps.

On Saturday night, courting couples

hold a taffy pulling party;

a gilded weathervane twirls

on the old red barn.

                     --Brenda Kay Ledford