My Peaceful Protest: What Color is the Sky?

August 18, 2020

“Grandpa…what color is the sky?”


(And then after a few thoughtful moments…)

“Grandpa…how do we know you and I see the same color blue?”

“We don’t.”

“Grandpa…what color am I?”

(Oh dear sweet child of God. What color is the wind?

Formed in the mind of the One who breathes life into

ALL that was, is, and ever will be–including you!

Made of the stuff of stars and volcanoes, oceans and trees… ahh the majestic trees…

What color are you my daughter’s child? And how do I answer such a question as this?)

“You grandson, are all the colors of all our ancestors from the beginning of time until now.”

“Yes, grandpa…but–” (and he looked up at me with eyes the color of the universe)

“‘Does my life matter too?”


Thank you for visiting.

Then Came Angels…

August 15, 2020

This poem about childhood emotional abuse was rattling around in my brain for some time (in between crochet stitches) and then, a most wonderful comment from Anna Waldherr inspired the pen to paper. Thank you, Anna.

The 18th Century rabbi, Israel ben Eliezer, wrote of suffering: “Each prayer has its own meaning, and it is, therefore, the specific key to a door in the Divine Palace. But a broken heart is an axe that opens all the gates.” ❤ Anna Waldherr

“Do you know how they break a horse’s spirit? This




Going to do to you!” These words said in a flying-rage to a small child–

(Too small to reason)

Burned a hole in her tender heart.

Sometimes, I



Of berating her (this was just the beginning)

You had beaten her. Broken bones heal. A young heart however, so easily shattered…

(You really thought to break that which belongs to God alone? My spirit? No.)

No. My spirit you could not break. You would have to settle with breaking my heart.

And as I lay–alone


(Because who alone can survive a broken heart?)

Then came angels




Carefully tending

My cracks (with lacquer and gold dust*) making me


(Even more beautiful)




*And thanks J for the thoughtful discussion on kintsugi

The Evolution of the Pretty Crocheted Brassiere.

August 13, 2020

It seemed to me at first


That while kids


Our cities–I would


My attention on crocheting a pretty bra.

Makes perfect sense to me now!

Honoring what God gave me–my

Womanly shape–support and uplift

By creating instead of destroying.


Here is a sneak peek at the evolution of the pretty (and comfortable) crocheted brassiere.


Do you want to see more?

Thank you dear friends for all the kind comments and likes. I very much appreciate each and every one of you who spends a little time with me here (and those who quietly read) especially during all the craziness!

We all need some support–and who couldn’t benefit from a little bit of pretty? Be well and safe and let us lift one another up!

With love,

Nina 🙂

Facing the Enemy…Dear God, it’s me.

August 8, 2020

Dear God…it’s me. I am

At a loss for words.

In the face of darkness

I turn towards the light.

In the face of destruction

I bow my head.

I am at a loss for words…


I listen for Your word


I put my trust in Your faith.

Even now, I trust in You





I am at a loss for words…

However, I know

Your word will

Never fail.

Even now.

And so,

In the quiet of my garden–

I am still.


The Queen’s Gardener Chapter 7: Declarations of Allegiance

July 28, 2020

Continued from The Queen’s Gardener Chapter 6: About Me: But Who Really Cares?

And so,

The war having been declared by the

Most subtle of agents–

The people were




The leaders however, knew the playbook and to whom they pledged their allegiance.

This was a fight for the very soul of the children of the First Light.

And on the battlefields of every mind

Truth and Lies



Discernment lay bloodied and battered but–





As cities burned


Chaos threatened…

The Queens’ gardener (busy with the first harvest of summer)

Wondered in awe at life and gave thanks for the miracle of the zucchini.

With love and gratitude,