June 5, 2019. Greetings from South Llano River State Park (TX) – first pause on our summer travels.
Getting away takes major effort (well worth it!) – this poem reflects on that, as well as the beauty of Texas hill country. This year the yucca are spectacular. This collage shows the scene – a bit blurred as pausing to take photos is impractical when towing an Airstream! The closeup is of a yucca blooming on the trail to one of the bird blinds here at the state park.
May 14, 2019. Some days distractions interrupt, spinning me off into wonderment. Today has been one of those, thanks to V.J. Knutson’s post of her poem “Bleeding Edges” @ https://vjknutson.org/2019/05/13/bleeding-edges/
The phrase “envelope of hope” just kept tugging at me. Where better to look for such an envelope than amidst blooming poppies? These blooms are from last month, collaged with a metaphoric envelope.
May 6, 2019. Rains have summoned the spade-foot toads, up from their burrows into misty night air … calling (could this be deemed crooning?) with a knowing confidence and persevering vigor. They like the pond just off the back porch (very near the bedroom window). Mating lasts throughout the night. Unable to sleep, I go out to enjoy the party.
April 30, 2019. How to convey a magical experience? I was so into it while it lasted that “make a video” never occurred to me. The image here (collage of a prior moon photo with clip-art) hopefully conveys the impression of moving along at eye-level with the Good Friday full moon – view constantly bouncing due to varying swag of heavy black power lines. What a start to a weekend camping trip with a loooong drive down to Seminole Canyon State Park (West of Del Rio Tx). Who knew Austin’s I-35 offered a moon-viewing deck?
April 14, 2019. Recently I had the opportunity to sit in silence by a campfire, letting the dancing flames erase just about every thought … then present a face smiling at me from a burning log. Not a laughing grin … a serene smile. Apart from the added circle, this image is what my phone captured. The next morning I stared again at the face, recalling how it had indeed smiled all the way to sudden collapse. The haiku here is the result of multiple revisits to figure out just what message to take from that smile.
Maybe you will see a different message.
March 28, 2019. Spring has announced herself with an abundance of green coming up through dried leftovers of prior green frozen to the ground. Lots to clean up in the yard! I tackled the crinum bed alongside driveway a bit at a time to avoid arthritic reaction to the necessary bending, stooping at unusual angles. This poem emerged from the meditative nature of putting face repeatedly near earth … plus it was Mother’s birthday. The following day, my email brought me the poem Earth Song – including:
Those who are dead are never gone;
The dead are not down in the earth:
They are in the trembling of the trees
Indeed, Mother was right there with me in the crinums’ upward thrust.
Crinums produce large lily-like blooms – mine are a vivid pink, prolific come June.
I’m unable to find a direct link to Earth Song, Traditional from Senegal. I received it via Panhala – to subscribe, send a blank email to:
March 13, 2019. Another rainy morning, not quite so cold as the December morning I wrote this poem. But the same mood prevails upon me, upon the Labrador. We both seem inclined to sit peacefully and just observe.
Thank you, Ken Gierke, for pointing me to GIMP for photo manipulation. I like its “waterpixels” effect, appropriate for the scene, the mood.