Welcome to where I am, where my kitchen's always messy, a pot's (or a poet) always about to boil over, a dog is always begging to be fed. Drafts of poems on the counter. Windows filled with leaves. Wind. Clouds moving over the mountains. If you like poetry, books, and music--especially dog howls when a siren unwinds down the hill-- you'll like it here.


MY NEW AUTHOR'S SITE, KATHRYNSTRIPLINGBYER.COM, THAT I MYSELF SET UP THROUGH WEEBLY.COM, IS NOW UP. I HAD FUN CREATING THIS SITE AND WOULD RECOMMEND WEEBLY.COM TO ANYONE INTERESTED IN SETTING UP A WEBSITE. I INVITE YOU TO VISIT MY NEW SITE TO KEEP UP WITH EVENTS RELATED TO MY NEW BOOK.


MY NC POET LAUREATE BLOG, MY LAUREATE'S LASSO, WILL REMAIN UP AS AN ARCHIVE OF NC POETS, GRADES K-INFINITY! I INVITE YOU TO VISIT WHEN YOU FEEL THE NEED TO READ SOME GOOD POEMS.

VISIT MY NEW BLOG, MOUNTAIN WOMAN, WHERE YOU WILL FIND UPDATES ON WHAT'S HAPPENING IN MY KITCHEN, IN THE ENVIRONMENT, IN MY IMAGINATION, IN MY GARDEN, AND AMONG MY MOUNTAIN WOMEN FRIENDS.




Showing posts with label mothers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothers. Show all posts

Sunday, May 13, 2012

MOTHER'S DAY MORNING




Another rainy morning.  Another morning to linger in bed longer than usual, my dog on the floor, atop the books and pillow left below.  It's Mother's Day, so why shouldn't I indulge myself.  And my dog.  My daughter is far away in Texas.  My husband farther away in Spain.  Why shouldn't I be a slugabed, listening to the rain on the roof, my dog snoring?  Sipping coffee that's rapidly growing cold.  (Our mornings have been cool lately, here in the mountains.)


The only thing that disturbs me is a question.  How many mothers can lie thus, this morning?  We hear much being made of motherhood.  Mitt Romney's wife calls it the "golden crown."  Religious conservatives praise it non-stop.  Too many of our politicians use that "golden crown" image to fight programs and laws that have made life a bit better for mothers in this country.  In a deep recession, mothers need those programs and laws more than ever.

And what of the mothers in gay relationships, whether they be male or female "mothers"?   Our caretakers are always our mothers, if by that we mean our nurturers, even if they only empty bedpans and give sponge baths.  If we going to honor and celebrate mothers on this day, we should consider the diverse spectrum of motherhood.  We should honor those mothers with real consideration, not with hypocritical sound-bites.


My own mother lives in SW Georgia.  I will be telephoning her as soon as I publish this post.  My brother and I are lucky; our mother has a 24 hour caregiver, and our family can afford to have her, this generous, funny, gossipy woman who loves my mother like a sister.  I celebrate her.  But I also celebrate those mothers who have no such caregiver in their last years, and I honor the mothers who struggle to deal with the costs, both financial and emotional, of late-life family care, after spending so much of their lives tending children and, more and more often, grand-children.  Hallmark cards are fine. So are flowers.  Some day after day honest celebration and consideration of Mothers, not just our own,  would be even better.

Happy Mother's Day to all of those who nurture and sustain the people around you.

Happy Mother's Day to all of those honor and sustain the mother who sustains us, this blue-green planet with her wildflowers and wonders.   Her hungry mouths.  Her many creatures huddled under leaf and brush and creek bed on this rainy Mother's Day morning.