Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

Exhibit A
Shredder bag busting and dusting the condo. These are a few of my favorite things.

Right! Just like plastic Easter grass, dry Christmas pine needles, and sequins from little girls' shoes. Impossible to ever really vacuum up no matter if I change the vacuum bag or not. I was wearing my very fuzzy I'm-home-now-and-I'm-not going-out-ever-again socks when the bag popped. The plastic and the fuzziness and the shreds were electric. Static electric! My feet looked like two porcupines roasting marshmallows.

Exhibit B
A gift that keeps on floating around the house. Three shreds under the dining chair. Five stuck to the bath mat. They keep on clinging on. Snow flakes that stay on my ... wimple?
Exhibit C
I still sing (softly to myself only), "Silver white wimples that melt into springs." Just thought the song was about nuns as a confused kid. The real lyric is about winters. I got to make a wimple once for the nurse in a production of "Romeo and Juliet".

Exhibit D
It's cold here. I shouldn't whine, but I will. Two sweaters. A shawl wrapped over my head and around my neck and shoulders, quite wimplesque. Just since I started writing this, more shreds have appeared on the carpet. Tea, a drink with Janet Bread. She yodeled up 'cause the goatherd's throat hurt. If it were strep she wouldn't get to go to the play with Grandma.

Exhibit E
Now wild geese fly with an app on their phone, forget the moon on their wings. These are a few of my favorite things.

wimple,  headdress worn by women over the head and around the neck, cheeks, and chin. From the late 12th until the beginning of the 14th century, it was worn extensively throughout medieval Europe, and it survived until recently as a head covering for women in religious orders. The wimple originally was adopted as a chin veil by Western women after the crusaders brought back from the Near East such fashions as the veil of the Muslim woman. The wimple, usually made of fine white linen or silk, framed the face and covered the neck and sometimes part of the bosom.

© 2014 Nancy L. Ruder

1 comment:

Kathleen said...

Oh, my. Sorry about the burst bag, but thanks for the wimples on the train!