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© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

My daughter had picked up the kids from pre-school the other day. While in the car, little Parisa had some gas which made its exit with noisy exuberance. She told her mother she had Minions in her tushie. I wrote this for her and her brother.


Looking around.
What was that sound?
It’s Minions in my tushie.
It’a hard to stop ’em
Once they start.
I ‘ll feel much better  
Once they depart.
Minions in my tushie.
I can’t control them
Or make them go away.
They are getting louder!
What do they want to say?
Bplrrrrr. Bplrrrrrr. Bplrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Bplrrrrr. Bplrrrrrr. Bplrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
Looking around.
What was that sound?
(It’ s only sound.
Nothing squishy.)
Minions in my tushie.
© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

An historic vibrant neighborhood is precious, glittering golden in autumn light. It is not just the sights, the sounds, but the smells. The SSB Drever and I walked in such a neighborhood today, the arms of the changing air wrapping around us, the falling leaves flitting down, waving before our eyes, flirting before dancing with our feet. The dusty, musty smells, fingers of earthy musk reaching up to us, inviting us into Autumn’s spell. Even the remains of vibrant Summer’s green succumb to the heady musk, numb to that which is to come.

 Redolent D’or


Woodruff in Autumn-© Jo Hewitt 2015

Woodruff in Autumn-© Jo Hewitt 2015

D’or Redolent 
Delicious Scent
Days Diminish to
Dusty Debris

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

The SSB Drever and I were walking yesterday. It has been a lovely autumn with the middle of October feeling more like early September. Most of the summer flowers are long gone, but Asters are blooming abundantly. And they are covered with bees! We are so lucky to enjoy their beauty and the bees are so lucky to have nectar for a little longer. They looked so happy hopping from aster blossom to aster blossom.

Asher and Parisa, well especially Parisa, love insects. Parisa holds her fingers close to her eyes, holding them together to indicate somethong very small, and using a tiny voice, tells me they are little, tiny and cute. I thought Asher and Parisa would like this little ditty. (Sung to: We’re In The Money)

Bee Boppin’

The bees are happy.
Their flight so snappy.
They’re just buzzin’ along
Boppin’ to their ‘lil bee song
Autumn Aster with Honey Bee-© Jo Hewitt 2015

Autumn Aster with Honey Bee-© Jo Hewitt 2015

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

The Winged Realm


Asher and Parisa at the sunshine spot. From- The Winged Realm © Jo Hewitt

Asher and Parisa at the sunshine spot. From- The Winged Realm. © Jo Hewitt 2015


Asher and Parisa ran to the sunshine spot. They had seen the butterflies appear and disappear from here before. They had wondered where the butterflies go.

They waited.

They knew the butterflies would be back because they had come to them in the dreamtime with soft butterfly kisses and said, “Come to us at the sunshine spot. Come to the edge where light meets dark. Fly with us to The Winged Realm.”

Soon they would know.

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

Small Town Girl Moves to City.  The headline should continue: And Changes the City. Well, at least my neighborhood. Tammi Hughes, as Executive Director of The East 10th Street Civic Association for 13 years, has given her time, energy, and really, her heart and soul in the growth and change along this section of East 10 Street and its neighborhoods, in and out of the office. On a personal level she has reached out to help people, anything from finding a place to live, mowing someone’s yard when that person couldn’t (me and mine), and comforted hearts when people have suffered at the hands of crime, poverty, and the other ugly children of ignorance and injustice.

It is hard to put on a super hero cape everyday and fight the good fight.  Tammi Hughes, yes you, I want to say thank you for all that you have done, for the community, with all the positive changes you have helped bring about, and for me, as my neighbor and friend, for being there.  (By the way, I took our super hero costumes to be dry cleaned so we can take a little break.)

Tammi Hughes, this one is for you.


The Spirit of East 10th Street

Star drop music night,


Dream and deed meet, dance in light,


Soul Light East 10th Street.

The Spirit of East 10th Street

The Spirit of East 10th Street by Jo Hewitt 2015

© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

Calamitous life events. During mine, I asked someone, “Does the pain ever go away?” “No,” he said. “But eventually you find a way to put it in a little box and store it away where it doesn’t hurt as much.” Another friend likened the hurt, the painful memories, to a stone in your pocket.

Stones in your pockets. You revisit each stone, taking it out, turning it over and over, looking at it from every side, scrutinizing it, analyzing it, holding on to it, holding on to the pain and then putting it back into the dark to weigh you down, you not ready to let go. Maybe you hold onto it because you feel you have nothing else to hold or hold onto.

You take it out again and  again. Each time cutting your heart on the shards of  broken illusions. But each time the edges smooth a little and then a little more until the stones of sorrow diminish, slip away, stone after stone, your life pieced as a path cobbled from those sorrows, from those stones.  The stones that had weighed you down were stepping stones, all along, to lead you to your life.


Stones in My Pockets

Time’s fingers reach for,
Turning over and over,
Stones in my pockets.
Rounding edges of
Heart shards aftermath pain path, 
Stones in my pockets.
Time alone softened stone
Let go echoes cobbled stones
Fall from my pockets.
Pebbles by West Country Photographic

Pebbles by Westcountry Photographic


© Jo Hewitt THE TEAL MANGO, 2015

The SSB Drever and I were walking the other day.  The humidity is up and it is hot by eight. It is mid summer again. The din of cicadas is in the air again. They are emerging from their shells, mating, and dying, leaving their progeny, again. Cycles upon cycles. Emergence. Shedding shells. We rest still where grass meets concrete.



Winged green meets concrete
Din of time lies still, passage
Silent marks our clock
Cicada at the edge of concrete and grass. © Jo Hewitt 2015

Cicada at the edge of concrete and grass. © Jo Hewitt 2015

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