September Waves Goodbye

"Ah, September! You are the doorway to the season that awakens my soul." - Peggy Toney Horton

Today marks the last day of September, the month that says good bye to summer and announces the beginning of autumn. In order to honor the season of fall, the two older grandgirls helped me make a delicious apple pie with a variety of orchard-picked apples. My Nonnie would be proud to have her great-grandgirls learning to bake and carrying on her baking tradition. 

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September, you know the warmth of summer

and the glimmer of early fall

when a cool breeze ushers in autumn

.

I cherish your days of autumn

mourn your short time with summer

and honor you as you let go to fall into fall

your timing transitions a green-colored summer

that melds with the beauty of early fall

celebrating the jewels of autumn

farewell summer-like September, as you fall into October's colorful autumn

©CVarsalona, 2025, tritina poem

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My first tritina poem is here.

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As we say goodbye to September, I invite all writers to join me as I create a Mini-Gallery of Artistic Expressions on Summering.

Summering is a state of mind that brings feelings of joy and relaxation. It revolves around the best of summertime and the ability to savor those feelings all year-round. 

I invite poets, writers, photographers, and educators to consider using the prompt to create an image poem, inspirational quote, or a photographn: How do you engage in summering during the summer season? Do you have a special photo, piece of artwork and/or poem to add to the Summering Mini-Gallery that I will create?

Thank you to Mary Lee Hahn, Janet Claire Fagal, and Linda Mitchell for participating with their image poems on summering. You can send your offerings to cvarsalona@gmail.com by mid-October. I  will gather the artistic expressions, create a mini-gallery, and share it on my blog and on social media. 

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This is my Slice of Life for Two Writing Teachers, where it's time to write, share, give.

#PoetryPals September Challenge

Autumn Delicacy

the day before fall arrived

my family drove to the apple orchard that showcased its bounty

despite the ominous darkening of clouds

nature hovered over the farm land and winced at the clouds

ripe and almost ripe apples announced their arrival

my family and I applauded nature and its bounty

as the sky darkened we found a part of the orchard that was bountiful

new apples with juicy sweetness hung below the clouds

my little grandgirls were mesmerized and will never forget arriving

especially since rain arrived with dark bountiful clouds 

draft ©CVarsalona, 2025, tritina

I thank the Poetry Sisters (Tanita Davis, Tricia Stohr Hunt, Mary Lee Hahn, Sara Lee Holmes, Laura Purdie Salas, Liz Garton Scanlon) for their enjoyable September Challenge. This was the first time I tried to write a tritina that was invented by poet Marie Ponsot. The tritina is not an easy poetic format for me but as one of the Poetry Sisters' #PoetryPals I enjoy engaging in their challenges.

Note: By the way, this was the first apple picking event that the sky opened up and provided a few drizzles in the orchard followed by a rainstorm during our outdoor lunch. Now, that is a memory we shall not forget.

It's Friday and time for the Poetry Friday Roundup with our host Amy Ludwig VanDerwater. She encourages us this week to try something new. Join me as I add my blog post to Amy's Roundup. Please read Amy's poem, You Choose You, that you will find here at The Poem Farm. Students will enjoy this poem. 

Pick a Peck of Apples

Picking apples at the Stribling Orchard in Northern Virginia is an Autumn tradition even when the sky is overcast and the rain drizzles down. As my son and I pulled up to the orchard's entrance, we saw my daughter, son-in-law, and three little grandgirls waiting patiently. 

Every one was eager to start apple picking. With map in hand, my daughter plotted a plan to visit various parts of the orchards. I paused to think of the history of this family-run orchard that began in 1819. For the first time I realized what a distinctive blend of history and fertile farm land had been cultivated to create an ideal apple orchard and grazing fields for raising cattle.

We began the apple picking event with the family. I watched Sierra and Aurora who are now tall enough to get a picking pole pulling down the best apples in each orchard. This year the different varieties of apples were beautiful in appearance. I was happy to join my grandgirls pick the fruit that will turn into apples pies and cookies. Perhaps, I might even have some little helpers bake with me.

I think the delight of the day was watching Little Lila enjoying running through the orchards with tiny apples in her hands. Toward the end of the adventure, we needed to taste some of our treasures and eat a delicious lunch despite the rain that started to dribble from the sky. When the rain started to fall harder, we left with bags of Kettle Corn and smiles. 

Our apple picking adventure brought back wonderful memories of past trips with Grandpa. 

we pick a peck of apples

in a picturesque part

of the Virginia countryside

picking sticks help the girls stretch

to pick the finest apples in the orchard

we cherish our pre-fall family time

©CVarsalona, 2025, cherita poem

This is my slice of life for this week's Two Writing Teachers.

Summer Passes By

As the calendar turns its page to the middle of September, the weather moves forward between two seasons. There are beautiful summer days and summer rains with damp weather but this past week in Northern Virginia widespread thunderstorms and cool weather were the norm. It was jacket and raincoat weather due to 60-degree weather. Then, all of a sudden the temperature climbed up and the humidity went down. It felt like a combo of the summer season and early fall. 

While summer knows its boundaries, nature decided to play between the two seasons. Summer days lessened. William Shakespeare stated, "Summer's lease hath all too short a date." Will Summer pass by us as Fall decides to make a grand entrance with her royal carpet of leave?  Will Summer hold on or graciously pass the baton to Autumn for the beginning of the Fall event? Here is my haiku sequence.

summer holds on

knowing what will come next

change approaches

summer pauses

feels the seasonal pressure

time is precious

summer steps in

a chance to shine is needed

fall winks takes its turn

©CVarsalona, 2025

As Summer transitions into Fall, I picture a gallery of artistic expressions created.

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Invitation to All

Summering is a state of mind that brings feelings of joy and relaxation. It revolves around the best of summertime and the ability to savor those feelings year-round. 

I invite poets, writers, photographers, and educators to consider using this prompt to create an image poem, inspirational quote, or a photograpy on: How do you engage in summering during the summer season? Do you have a special photo, piece of artwork and/or poem to add to the Summering Mini-Gallery that I will create.

Thank you to Mary Lee Hahn and Janet Fagal for participating with their image poems on summering. You can send your offerings to cvarsalona@gmail.com by October 3, 2025. I  will gather the artistic expressions and create the mini-gallery. 

I am delighted to send this invitation forth to the fabulous book reviewer, baker,  and literary buff, Jama at Jama's Alphabet Soup.

Inquiry: Is anyone attending the NCTE Convention in Denver this November. I am interested in rooming with someone. Please let me know if your are going and planning on sharing a room. Thank you, friends and a special thank you to Matt Forrest Esenwine for asking me to present with his team of Georgia Heard  and Allan Wolf.

A Day to Remember Forever

Did you hear the bell ring for the 9/11 fallen heroes yesterday? 24 years ago, New York City first responders, police, firemen, and newscasters flooded the streets and the media with traumatic news. People ran from their buildings under a shower of dust and darkness. Cement covered the streets as people tried to find a passage over the Brooklyn Bridge. While I did not witness all of this in person, I felt the weight of fear and grief as did the Village of Rockville Centre in Long Island, New York, where I lived. 

Forty-nine people in my village died during the 9/11 catastrophe. The Patch news named it the "deadliest terror attack on American soil". Of those people, Cantor Fitzgerald, American financial services firm, lost the most lives, one of whom was the mother of my daughter's senior high school friend. Because their friend suffered such a loss, my daughter and her two friends organized a candlelight vigil parade. Three hundred people gathered together. Tears flowed throughout this silent passage from the high school througout the village. For a long while life was worrisome. Memorials were erected so people could remember that horrible day in 2001 and be hopeful about the future. 

I remember September 11th each year and so does the world. Families  gather together to honor their fallen loved ones. A bell tolls like the sound of grief. Names of 9/11 victims are read as tears flow like water. Now life continues with a different thought. It is the time to bind the world together as a connected global society. Rid the world of hatred and unkindness to find peace.

September 11th

unpredicable hatred 

swept across the sky

New York City was attacked

fear and sorrow opened their channels

to all fallen heroes

draft CVarsalona, 9/11/2025, cherita

Listen to Fallen Heroes (9-11)

Hope for Tomorrow

Bind the human race into

a connected global society

with hatred extinguished

and unity established.

©CVarsalona, 2025 quick write draft

Thank you to author, poet, and educator, Rose Cappelli, for hosting the Poetry Friday Roundup today. She added Mary Oliver's poem that can be a call to action.

Cherish the Now!

As I read through other writers' posts, I often choose a line or two that makes me pause. Cherish each fleeting now was written by slicer/poet, Molly Hogan. Her thought made me connect to the past and back to the present. If only I knew that my husband's time would be unexpectedly shortened, I might have cherished ordinary days with more intent. The if-onlys in my life still pop-up but I know that I cannot rewrite our history. What I need to learn is how to stop obsessing on what I can't keep up with. I also need to put my energy into what I can do in small amounts each day. I found the following poem by Wendell Berry several times during last week. It made me take a mindful pause. 

Peace of Wild Things

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

The above poem allows me "For a time, to rest in the grace of the world". With this thought, I decided to create a Golden Shovel poem from my heart to my husband's resting place.

The family journeyed along the coast for

nine days ready to celebrate a  

life no longer existing in real time.

My husband  journeyed also. I

honored his love and felt his spirit rest.

The sun opened our hearts in 

layers of clouds and the 

blessings of God's grace 

recycled in a pool of 

ocean waves surrounding the

memories of our world.

I shall cherish each fleeting now!

draft 2025 @CVarsalona

This is my Slice of My Life that will be placed at Two Writing Teachers, 

a meeting place for a world of reflective writers.

Barefoot At the Beach

On my family's journey to celebrate my husband's life, I was touched by the beauty of nature, longed for the ocean dancing beyond the beach, and felt a feeling of family togetherness. Looking back on life, I realized that sunshine and the beach were an important part of my marriage. We gathered there with family and friends, listened to concerts, and walked barefoot in the sand. My daughter's wedding took place in a beautiful church, St. Mary of the Isles, a block away from the ocean, so it made sense that one way to honor my husband was to be near the Atlantic Ocean. 

"Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet

and the winds long to play with your hair."  

- Kahlil Gibran (one of our favorite authors)

 

Barefoot At the Beach

standing still on the edge of the shore

I watch children bobbing in and out

like the dolphins in the far distance

flood currents splash to shore

in a rhythmic pattern

sand castles whoosh away and

footprints in the sand dissolve as

the ebb and flow of waves arrive

hidden in my soul, grief lies waiting

for the ocean to wash away sorrow

and the sun to dry the tears

barefoot we stand honoring

the husband, father, and grandfather

who loved us all

©CV, September 2025

Reflective Memory

I walk barefoot

as many others do

along the shore of wet sand.

I listen to cool, lapping waters

create a solemn, sacred moment.

Mindfully, I pause.

My mind and body calm down.

Anxiety lessons, knowing that

healing will be a slow,

God-blessed process

during the journey of life.

©CV, September 2025

This month, the Spiritual Journey group of writers under the leadership of Linda Mitchell is writing to a singular word, barefoot. The prompt is simple and timely for me since my family has been lovers of the ocean, shore, and sand for decades. To honor my husband's life, my small family traveled to three beaches facing the Atlantic Ocean: Cape May, the South Shore of Long Island, and Coney Island. The journey was filled with multiple therapeutic moments.

I borrowed the beautiful logo for Poetry Friday from Margaret Simon, host of the Poetry Friday Roundup. The picture brings me to another slow-down, calming moment or two. Margaret offers a love poem to silence that is lovely enough for several reads.