“How do you know where to begin?”
“I pick.”
“You pick?”
“I pick. Anything. The strawberries in our tea this morning. I could start with that. I could tell you how my Sara cuts all the questionable parts off her strawberries and too much off the top and how I have asked her to leave the castoffs in a bowl for me, because they are perfectly good.”
“You are not very fussy about food.”
“Yes and no. I try to buy organic. And fresh. I prefer homemade. One of my friends calls me a pioneer woman because I grind my own flour from wheat berries.”
“Wheat has berries?”
“Not like a strawberry, Silly. But, yes, it has berries that look like tiny brown boats. Another friend asked if maybe I would turn my back yard into a wheat field. She thought that was funny. I thought that was funny too, though it would be a very unfriendly thing to do to my currant bushes, my blueberries, and my new jostaberry. The kiwi is frustrating me with its needs for courtship. I’ve got a male who needs his female or he won’t give. So I could threaten him with the wheat I suppose.”
“Agricultural intrigue? The battle of the berries!”
“Anyway. You are getting us lost here. We were talking about how to begin. I found the strawberries on the counter, all dried up. I thought to toss them. Then I decided to put them in our tea instead.”
“You make me nervous.”
“You like the tea, don’t you?”
Your fingers play with the cover of the little white teapot now. Lift. Drop. Lift. Drop. Lift drop. And you are smiling a “yes.”
“You can get anywhere from anywhere. That’s what Verlyn says.”
“Verlyn? Seriously?”
“Verlyn.”
“Napoleon. Verlyn. Have you got a thing for guys with foreign names?”
“I assure you I do not. You are changing the subject again. Remind me never to hire you to start a war. We’d never win. If I was aiming for Iceland, you’d land me in Asia.”
“You want to start a war in Iceland? They’re very peaceful people, you know. One of the happiest places in the world.”
“Why don’t you pour me some more tea, and I will tell you how to begin. Not a war in Iceland. But a poem, an article, a book. You can get anywhere from anywhere. Once? I started with a cabbage.”
“Cabbage is Polish, isn’t it? Are you going to be bringing that with you to Iceland?”
I take a sip of my Monk’s tea, strawberry laced. “Another time I started with bees.”
“They probably have bees in Iceland. To pollinate the kiwis.” Your fingers start playing with the teapot lid again. Lift. Drop.
“You might be mixing Iceland up with New Zealand. You could start with New Zealand if you like. Heck, you could start with military pushups. I have even started with THE END.”
“You started with THE END? I never know what you are going to do. Should I be concerned about the muffins this morning?”
“You like your tea, right?” I put my fingers on top of yours to stop another lift-drop.
“I like my tea.”
“Don’t worry about the muffins then. A little tahini never hurt anybody.”
“Tahini? Is that in…”
“Asia? No.” I wink and lift my fingers off yours. “But it’s a great place to begin.”
Photo by TheDeliciousLife. Creative Commons, via Flickr. Story by L.L. Barkat, author of The Novelist: A Novella.
___________
Want to easily follow A Book of Beginnings?
Grab a button for your blog…
___________
Buy a year of Every Day Poems, just $5.99— Read a poem a day, become a better poet. In May we’re exploring the theme Swans, Swallows, Phoenix.
- A Surprise Poetry Stories Collection—Plus, the Giveaway Winner! - May 10, 2021
- How to Write a Form Poem: Hear the Poets Read! - April 30, 2021
- A Blessing for Writers - April 19, 2021
Maureen Doallas says
THE END
is the subject I remind you
never to begin. You can get
anywhere if you can wink
and turn back instead
of smiling when you do
military pushups or threaten
to leave with the fresh, homemade
muffins. I grind worry
with my flour. Don’t you
get nervous when I am laced
with bees, aiming to make talking
the thing that never hurt
anybody but you this morning.
You play war with the counter
of castoffs (I never win, I know),
get lost and get unfriendly,
then drop me into Iceland. I
toss tiny brown boats into bowls
with perfectly good berries,
finger-play with the kiwi,
turn fussy and ask for tea
with foreign names. Courtship,
I suppose, is questionable.
L. L. Barkat says
Maureen, I think you might be proof that one can begin anywhere 😉
Love this.
i do get fussy for tea 😉
Donna says
I love this… especially THIS:
“I grind worry
with my flour.”
🙂 It’s very cool how you can do this!!!
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Maureen you have some mad skills in this form of poetry. I nominate you to write the next poem or series of poems which will come from the next twitter party. 🙂
Donna says
Cabbage… bees…. push ups (military ones)… The End…
Ah the secret to writing-in-place…. the secret to getting anything done (or at least started)…
….just begin.
Donna says
P.S. I never EVER heard anyone ever call them Glumpkis. I was starting to think that was a fictional word crafted from a blending of English and Lithuanian fragments and sounds. Since childhood I’ve heard them called a million things, but never Glumpkis… until now.
Jody Lee Collins says
“Just begin.” Best advice. Ever.
Elizabeth W. Marshall says
Another reason I like “medias in res” / “in medias res”…it is my favorite beginning. And “Just start!!” or begin or stop talking about beginning and start somewhere for goodness sakes, even if it is at the end of the middle. 🙂
Another reason I love this series…it makes the threads I follow feel at home, not so alone, makes a mind prone to follow tangents feel right at home.. Which makes me think of…. 🙂
And it reminds me how beautiful cabbage are. Is the plural of cabbage cabbages. Feels wrong. I could go off on a tangent and check. 🙂 This looks downright floral in its composition but I have made enough cole slaw to know its a cabbage. Your photograph is stunning, as always.
L.L. love this so much 🙂
L. L. Barkat says
This totally made me smile, Elizabeth. I do believe that you have still to tap that sense of humor and channel it into your writing. You know you are amusing, yes? Do you know? You are.
Megan Willome says
When I was growing up, my best friend’s mom ground wheat berries and made her own bread. I thought she was so cool.
L. L. Barkat says
so, like, are you saying I’m cool? 😉 I would accept that.
Megan Willome says
OK. Just wrote something about writing & wheat berries. There you go, dear L.L., inspiring me once again.
L. L. Barkat says
oh? Do I want it for Tweetspeak? 😉
Megan Willome says
No earthly idea!