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pi(e) in the sky. [kerri’s blog on merely-a-thought monday]

i owe my love of math to my sweet momma and two amazing math teachers in junior high and high school (woody and bill).

so to look up in the sky and see ‘pi’ made me laugh aloud. of course i sent a photo to both of my kiddos with the caption “so is this what they mean by pi in the sky?” – to which neither responded a peep. oh well. i thought it was pretty funny – in a corny kind of way.

it did, however, make me think of all things pi-in-the-sky, er…pie-in-the-sky.

pi (3.14…) is a constant. it never changes. it is the ratio of the circumference of a circle to its diameter. it is used in many equations and – from the time you learn it – is a number you just never forget.

yeah, kind of like the constitution or the declaration of independence. once you learn about them, you never forget.

well, most people never forget.

well, some people never forget.

anyway, here we are – in the middle of a constitutional crisis – with the declaration of independence mouth-open-silently-screaming relevancies at us – and my pie-in-the-sky is that it will all just stop – with a happy hallmark ending where all rifts fade and all fighting ceases and people just love one another and live in peace and harmony and respectful, compassionate democracy for the rest of all time.

pretty pie-in-the-sky-ish, eh?

a dear old friend sent me a youtube video of the song beautiful city (from godspell):

“out of the ruins and rubble/out of the smoke/out of our night of struggle/can we see a ray of hope?/one pale thin ray reaching for the day… we can build a beautiful city/yes, we can/we can build a beautiful city/not a city of angels/but we can build a city of men/we may not reach the ending/but we can start/slowly but truly mending/brick by brick/heart by heart/now, maybe now/we start learning how/…when your trust is all but shattered/when your faith is all but killed/you can give up bitter and battered/or you can slowly start to build!…”(stephen schwartz)

i am hoping against hope that this is not pie-in-the-sky. that a chance remains for this country to rebuild – to stop this madness – to stop the evil and cruel extremism that is taking over – to stop authoritarianism – to stop the ruining of this democracy.

pi in the sky above me, i couldn’t resist taking a photograph.

i couldn’t resist sending it as my picture-of-the-day.

and i couldn’t resist hoping – at least for a little bit – for some pie-in-the-sky.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this MERELY-A-THOUGHT MONDAY

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stripahs! [not-so-flawed wednesday]

striped squill. “stripahs,” crunch might call them.

it sounds like you should grill it and have it with rice pilaf, some sort of midwestern whitefish.

it’s not.

crunch’s stripahs, back then, in the day, were striped bass, so these tiny blooms would not truly bear his nickname.

it’s these “invasive” flowers that are decorating our yard these days, paving the way for the dandy dandelions. they are actually quite beautiful. “puschkinia” in plural, which sounds like an americanized-botched-spelling plural of a mini version of those ridiculously yummy sweet-filled polish paczki donuts. everything sounds like something.

for me, peering for spring in the front yard, they are a sure sign of hope. early arrivers these early stardrift, they signal that maybe-just-maybe the snow is over and maybe-just-maybe warm sun will take over where cold march days left off. they are harbingers of open windows and adirondack chair time and basil sharing space with cherry tomato plants and flipflops. so much anticipation in tiny flowers.

these days are unseasonably warm. we are not sure why the jet stream seems to be blessing us with this gift but we are elated to walk in degrees that are in the sixties and even seventies. spring in wisconsin has never – in my experience – been a season of warmth. i remember too many soccer and baseball seasons huddled under blankets tucked into my bagchair. but this one is different.

next week is supposed to be back in the fifties. but even those temperatures are happy for us. maybe-just-maybe i’ll get a glimpse of forsythia one of these days, a sure sign of spring on growing-up long island.

in the meanwhile: bravo little stripahs! bravo!

*****

read DAVID’S thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY


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my tiny bonsai. [not-so-flawed wednesday]

if the price tag had not read $9.99, i would have purchased this tiny stake sign. but, at that very moment, despite the it-made-me-pick-it-up marketing, $9.99 seemed a tad bit high for a five inch tall sign. still, ridiculously cute.

our sunroom is filled with plants – everything from an exploding ponytail palm to stalwart tiny cactus twins “the dots”, to charlie, the heart-shaped leaf philodendron to snakeinthegrass sansevieria to kc, my difficult bonsai gardenia. kc is my problem plant-child. i mist kc, i use distilled water, i have fed it and keep the bottom tray filled with moisture, i turn it to face the sun. despite my attempts to have conversation, to really share life – for i talk to it every single day – kc is stubborn. next i will seek specific bonsai gardenia plant food – there are several options online. i’ll probably do some research to really determine the proper way to nurse this treasured plant back to good health. i’m not sure where i went wrong and it means so much to me that kc will be healthy and will grow – unfettered and with wild abandon. my relationship with this tiny plant has become a challenge.

you would think, had i purchased the tiny sign, that i would have placed it in one of the burgeoning clay planters. there’s a posse of plants responding to being nurtured. you would think that the e.s.p. of choice might be one that is flourishing.

but it’s not so. i, for sure, would have placed the stake into kc’s pot. for this plant – despite its complexity – is dear to me and is most definitely my emotional support plant. kc is a tiny slice of real life, a little unrooted, a little nutritionally off. when i got it, there were two buds on it. they never opened and, instead, fell to the dirt. my nurturing is not quite right yet. something is not quite right. feeling a little defeated, i keep trying to figure it out.

one of these days, i hope, i will walk into the sunroom and a tiny bud will have formed. and then – the day it begins to slowly blossom – i will know that i have done something right, something that touched it, something that let this little plant know its cherished place in my heart. its bloom will open and i will know that kc is ready and present – with me.

in the meanwhile, i will just keep on keeping on, trying to be steady and, just off to the sidelines, giving it unconditional love. i’m trying to be patient and let it do its own thing, while i quietly do everything in my heart to support it. i am rooting for this bonsai every day and i know that the bloom that will someday come will be inordinately beautiful, exquisite in every way.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this NOT-SO-FLAWED WEDNESDAY


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and nature strung up prayer flags. [k.s. friday]

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and grimaced to see raging wildfires, upending people’s lives, destroying towns and homes and forests and tiny creatures racing to stay ahead of flames.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and wept at floods sweeping over land, drowning dreams and crops and families, sweeping away livestock and animals trying to escape mudslides.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and, wincing at the pain of what it saw, questioned why brilliant science could not prevail, why habitats were being destroyed, why climate change and global warming were not on the lips of all its people, why something so vital seemed so controversial.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and pondered its resources, its clean water, the fruits of its ecosystem, the sustainability of food and drink for each and every one of its beloved inhabitants on its crowded globe.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and grieved the ramifications of a raging pandemic, sickness and suffering, lives lost, security decimated, together slashed into separate and distant.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and wondered about the division of its people, wondered about deep disagreement, hatred and the brash spewing of vitriol, wondered where truth went.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and wondered about all manners of inequality, wondered about all manners of discrimination, wondered about ill treatment of its dear ones, wondered about cruelty.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and saw anxiety and angst and surging mental health challenges in its own, fear and instability, exhaustion, unassailable peace assailed.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and wished the most basic elements would rise to the top, tending the needs of clean air, food, clothing, shelter, education, healthcare, sanitation, protection, communication, belonging, caring about and for each person.

and the universe glanced down at planet earth.

and hoped for a better time, a better way, a resurgence of compassion, a renewing of a world commitment to collaboration, and a rebirth of what it had given each person: a heart.

and nature, well, she strung up prayer flags.

*****

HOPE (kerri sherwood)

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read DAVID’S thoughts this K.S. FRIDAY

HOPE ©️ 2005 kerri sherwood


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snowcake and lemonade. [d.r. thursday]

david, wearing his birthday tiara, waiting to have birthday cake

he said that he stood at the back door and thought, “i’m going to like this time of life best.” out the door, surfing through piles and piles of snow, dogdog ran the yard, bowing to the snow and snacking on it, his chin and face covered. a snowglobe day, david stood and watched our dog in his glee while the coffee brewed. moments later, he brought a steaming mug of strong black coffee to me, lounging in my flannel pjs in bed, sleepy eyes and a warm cat by my side. we clinked mugs and sipped while we talked of birthdays and time.

our day was simple. we ate, we wrote, we ate again. dogdog and babycat were by our sides, not eager to be anywhere else on this frigid day. negative temperatures in the minus-twenties weren’t at all encouraging for hikes outside, or even walks, and i made a mental note to start asking around about a treadmill. we unwrapped a winter-scene jigsaw that had been in the hall closet for years, called people, answered texts, opened a surprise gift that arrived on our frozen doorstep and puzzled at the dining room table. a late dinner and a couple of glasses of red and dogdog was begging to go sleepynightnight. he led the way to the end of the day, a valentine’s-day-birthday, a day of marveling at how dear people are, how fast time goes, how vested we are in adjectives like ‘peaceful’ and ‘promising’ and ‘content’ to describe our next. ‘euphoric’ and ‘carefree’ would be lovely too; so many adjectives, so little time.

on the deck right out the sunroom window, the wrought iron table and chairs were laden with the accumulation of days of snow. i could not help but see the round snowpile on the table as a giant birthday cake; i could not help but see the snow-shape in the chair as a little alien snowman, waiting patiently for a piece of cake. it was just too tempting and david was out front shoveling. with a couple silver christmas balls, a tiara found upstairs in my girl’s room, a tall white taper and some vintage pink-plastic-cake-numbers-that-hold-tiny-birthday-candles, i made myself laugh. sinking well over my knees in snow as i inadvertently stepped off the side of the deck into a drift, i collapsed into the snow, cracking up, just too excited for david to come around the corner of the house, shovel in hand. lemonade, i thought. this is lemonade.

and that, i believe, is what he meant by, “i’m going to like this time best.” a time when you know that lemonade – and the making of it with or without lemons – is most rewarding.

*****

read DAVID’s thoughts this D.R. THURSDAY

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