🌸🌿 About This Blog

trou·vaille – (tro͞oˈvī) noun. French.
plural: trouvailles
from the Old French trouver “to compose, find”.
Trouvaille is an Old French word meaning “something lovely discovered by chance; a lucky find.”  Sort of like finding a secret cache of gold coins hidden in the walls of an old house you just bought or, perhaps, coming suddenly upon a flower … a sunset … a scene … that simply takes your breath away.

It’s something that comes from out of the blue to touch your heart, your mind, your senses in a very profound and special way.

It is that instant when the light hits the dewy wings of a dragonfly in just the right way and, just for a moment, turns them into jewel-sprinkled glass.

It’s the appearance of a bright double rainbow against a storm-darkened sky, an enchanting word discovered while reading, or a lovely idea that — out of nowhere — skitters across your mind.

It’s like serendipity (another good word!), which means “the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way,”  such as finding this special word — “trouvaille” — when wondering what to call my blog!

Where I’m From

I am from history books and family trees, from Lenovo, Nikon and Prismacolor, fragrant lilacs and Sterling Silver roses.

I am from the sacred fields of blood and honor, the hallowed ground and the vision-place of souls, from silent sentinels of granite and bronze and witness trees rustling stories to the listening sky.

I am from gray-green waves pounding upon sun-washed sand, Manco and Manco on the boards, and laughing gulls who steal your food.

I am from soulmate felines and owlet tree, hummingbird and eagle eyrie, from jewel-winged dragonfly and the glittering dance of fireflies on a summer’s night.

I am from Wildcat and wildflowers, hollyhock dolls and trumpet-vine houses, and sweet little violets tender and true.

I am from the Treasurers of the past, story-weavers, and strongly-held beliefs, from Chamberlain and Davidson and Heisey.

I am from the creative and the combative, the stubborn and the brave.

From the midnight pizza that will give you nightmares and knowing better because I am the oldest.

I am from Saint Francis and Saint Joan, candlelight Masses and towering cathedrals not made by man.

I’m from the land of Tolkein and misty Tulloch and Badenoch, from Dad’s special hamloaf, Auntie Alice’s potato soup, and steaming platters of all-you-can-eat crab legs.

From a co-star called Rags, who performed with me in nighttime dramas to the acclaim of dreaded footsteps on the stairs, the cherished Nana, purveyor of ice-cold Coca-Colas and Wriggley’s Spearmint Gum, and the gentle Auntie who tickled my hand to keep me quiet in church.

I am from history books and family trees, and every lovely thing discovered by chance.

This is a poetry exercise that I wrote with guidance from a poem by George Ella Lyon called “Where I’m From.” Details on how to do it can be found here.