I couldn’t be more grateful to be closing out the year with poetry — and people who love poetry. Our theme this month was light, hope and peace (written in any form). This one doesn’t really fall into our larger 2025 theme of conversation, except that it is me in conversation with my childhood. So. Let’s go with that. Truly wishing you all more light, hope and peace in the new year. More and more…
Stringing Popcorn
Liz Garton Scanlon
There was the year my sister and I strung popcorn –
needle and thread pushing through our little fingers
like pricks of light, half the cloud-like kernels crumbling
into our flannel-nightied laps like Christmas snow.
(The Kingston Trio spun circles around us,
skipping on our favorite song. Great deep drifts
pushed up against the picture window.)
At bedtime, we stretched out what we had –
these miniature garlands – and left them
on the kitchen counter, to surprise our parents
(to delight them!), but the dogs got every crumbly bit
“before Mom and Dad even made it home.
The next morning, I squeezed
the tender, needled pad of my finger
till it hurt, till I could be sure the snowy chains
had existed at all. To be sure we’d made them.
Go read others here!
Mary Lee
Tanita
Laura
Sara
Our own Tricia is hosting here.
And as for 2026, we’re meeting in early January to make our plans so stay tuned! We’d love for you to write with us again
Oh, Liz. This is a nuanced memory of Christmas–the eager, loving making of gifts, but the too easy disappearance of them, too. I remember the year I tried to make popcorn chains (as an adult) and OW OW OW. I had no idea it was so painful—the books didn’t mention that, only the cozy charm of the activity!!
Oh the dogs! I always wondered if food on a tree lasted for others. 🙂
Ha! All our Christmas goodies are currently pushed past the point that our new doggo, Dolly, can reach. I was visiting a friend to deliver Christmas goodies a couple days ago and their doggo chewed through my purse strap as we chatted. Oh, those dog! How is it that we love them so much? I love the memory of that time captured in this poem. I always wanted to string popcorn. But, it’s more difficult than ‘Little House on the Prarie’ made it look! “pricks of light” is really nice.
We didn’t have indoor dogs all the time but I remember one year my sister took her garland outside to *show* the dog… with predictable results. I love the details of the Kingston Trio and imagine the flannel nightgowns were gingham. What a cozy breath of memory you’ve shared.
Oh Liz this is such a picture-perfect lovely memory, and that turn at the end with the dogs, you/one really feel it. And the Kingston Trio was playing in our small house too. Thanks for this light, longing for hope, and joy filled poem, Happiest of Holidays to you and your family!
Giggling in de-LIGHT that the pups sneaked a treat!
Score one for the doggoes!
Wishing you peace and light and always more delight, Liz.
Brilliant! (no pun intended 🙂 You wrote about love without ever using that word. You showed us joy and disappointment but reminded us that even in pain we’d be able to remember past the grief to the joy.
What a memory. Reading this poem reminds me of gazing into a snow globe.
Oh, I love this nostalgic memory, Liz — bursting with love and the delights and disappointments of childhood.
You’ve reminded me of a story my father used to tell about how he and his mother (he was young, and my grandfather was away, WWII) decided to string the tree with popcorn. They worked hard, admired their efforts, and went to bed. In the morning, the strings looked as if they had turned black, and upon closer inspection, my dad and grandma discovered SO MANY ants. 🙂
It’s like I’m right there, Liz, and I can feel my sore fingerpads! What a fun/ny Christmas memory, full of family and light and love.
I love the memory you’ve shared with us. This line had me right there stringing popcorn with you:
“like pricks of light, half the cloud-like kernels crumbling”
Darn those hungry pooches, but oh what a memory they left you with. Thank you for sharing this.
Dear Liz!! I love your idea about being in conversation with your childhood!!! Love your poem with its beautiful and precise images, especially that amazing “(The Kingston Trio spun circles around us,/skipping on our favorite song.” Thank you for sharing this memory ! Wishing you a Happy New Year filled with light!!!
What a rich childhood memory you’ve captured here! I could see and hear all of it. The squeezing of the tender finger the next day is just brilliant! Love it!