Writers, Mothers, and Begonias

Angel Wing Begonia

This angel wing begonia is not growing up, as some do, but it leans from the weight of its row of wings.  It turns toward the west from its position in a hanging pot on my porch.  The foliage catches the light underneath the wings showing off a reddish color. This plant was given to me by a friend and colleague, Patricia Laster, a member of my critique group, Central Arkansas Writers.  The begonia was started from a plant that belonged to her mother.

Our mothers are no longer with us, but to honor their memory, both Pat and I still have some of the flowers our mothers once tended. So when Pat shared this plant with me, I was happy to look after it and soon it began to grow.

My own mother loved all kinds of flowers and could keep them growing with little effort, it seemed.  She definitely had a green thumb. Begonias and geraniums were some of her favorites. My mother passed away 35 years ago, and I still have two of her plants.  A Mother-in-law’s tongue and a Thanksgiving cactus.

Angel wing begonias are a great conversational piece, a lovely houseplant,  and can even prompt a writer to post it on her blog. 🙂

Do you have an angel wing begonia at your house?

Sunflower – Day Ten – NaPoWriMo

Sunflower and seeds

The sunflower bows its head
standing there in my front yard.
The sun comes up bright and red.
The sunflower bows its head.
Now look how the seeds have spread.
Will they grow in soil so hard?
The sunflower bows its head
standing there in my front yard.

Copyright , 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols

Anniversary–An Arkansas Pig Tale

Today, February 10, 2013 is the first anniversary of this blog, My True Sentence. Sharing my writing here has been a rewarding experience.  WordPress is a great place to blog.  Yesterday I received a note from them wishing me a happy day.

At the start, the few followers I had were friends and family. Now, I have 349 followers.  Not to brag, but I am amazed at how blogging works. The views on this blog total more than 7,700 and they are from many parts of the world.  My first post was a poem that received 93 views, my highest number to date.

I’m reposting that poem today to celebrate the anniversary of this blog..

An Arkansas Pig Tale

When Sadie Lee and Thomas moved to Creek,
they brought along three pigs, a mule and dog.
The dog, a Lab, Old Bounder was his name,
was big and shy and   clung to tom like lint.
The mule was called Moe Henry; he was strong.
He plowed the fields and garden every spring.
The pigs were Razor, Stringy Hair and Beaut.
When Razor’s snout up-rooted Tom’s green plants,
then Thomas said to Sadie, “That’s enough!
He has to go to forage on his own.”
And so he put old razor out to range,
But Sadie cried because he was her pet.
Cold winters came and Sadie worried so
for Razor.  Tom then had to butcher Beaut
that first cold winter.  Sadie cried again.
She cried once more because Hair had to go;
she turned against pork chops and bacon, too.
“Oh, Tom, why did you send my pig away?”
cried Sadie.  Tom replied, “To save my crops!
Now Sadie, I DON’T WANT that Razor back!”

c Copyright,  Freeda Baker Nichols