Honeysuckle Haven

February 3, 2019.  Our yard is a designated wildlife habitat, and for several weeks the sparrows have been our poster advocates.  They take cover in the thick ever-green (in Central Texas) honeysuckle.  I’ve combined images of the honeysuckle on rainy days, and included a short video for sound effects:  sparrow voices join percussion of rain tapping metal porch roof.  Enjoy!

PostSignature2

Post_2019-01-xx_Image_HoneysuckleSparrow

Post_2019-01-xx_Poem_HoneysuckleHaven

Porch Seated, Whereabouts Within

January 18, 2019.  Winter weather changes certain habits – like wandering about in the yard looking at the day’s blooms and potential blooms while Labrador Buttercup tends to her morning business.  A heater on the enclosed back porch (our seasonal greenhouse) tempts and I navigate toward the rocking chair near by, leaving the porch door cracked for dog’s return.

Often porch time becomes reflective, more so these past few days as I’ve begun reading Alan Watts.

PostSignature2

post_2019-01-18_image_porchseated

post_2019-01-18_poem_porchseated

Feeling The Wait

January 13, 2019.  Reflecting on my recent routine visit to the Ear-Nose-Throat doc – a remarkably pleasant space for waiting your turn – light coming through windows along the outer wall of the receptionist area – then passing through a cheerfully frosted panel into the make-yourself-comfortable area.  Usually, one or two others share the wait.  But this last visit got crowded.

PostSignature2

post_2019-01-13_image_ent

post_2019-01-13_poem_feelingthewait

 

Ablaze

January 8, 2019.  One of those stop-in-your-tracks encounters showed up in the sky late yesterday.  In a rush to get away from the day’s frenzies … forgot all about those energies  … standing transfixed in the driveway.  Colors and textures overhead gave the appearance of winter-bare tree limbs ablaze.  Just our imaginations, our luck to walk out when we did.

PostSignature2

post_2019-01-08_image_blazingsunset

post_2019-10-08_poem_ablaze

 

Necessary Unpleasantness

December 26, 2018.  ‘Tis that time of year for tending to things put off … I don’t make New Year Resolutions, but I do focus on major to-dos, getting some of them off the list, off my conscience before the year ends.   Like cutting back the yaupon holly – arched trunk  extending over the sidewalk, into the street.  Of course I took photos before we began cutting.  The chore is done, off the list, but my conscience is unsettled.  If  only I could’ve moved the street instead …

PostSignature2

Post_2018-12-25_Image_YauponCollage

Post_2018-12-25_Poem_NecessaryUnpleasantness

 

 

Moon’s Fullness

December 22, 2018.  Winter Solstice caught my attention this year.  Long dark nights suit me just fine – not so for all of us.  Hence a number of reflections in groups I mingle with.  Yesterday @ 4:21 pm Solstice arrived, between two memorable experiences with our Tundra.  First, getting stuck in the mud out at my daughter’s tiny house;  then, the battery just quit flat at the car wash.

Standing around outside the Battery store, the moon (almost full) beamed … in a trickster joking kind of way … telling me it’s daylight hours that bring problems … night hours would bring relief!

Home finally, new battery dismissing angst, I took camera and tripod outside to see what I might capture.  Luck was with me:  Several clear shots and a big smile noticing how this incredibly bright moon was totally undoing “long dark night” …  trickster indeed!

This morning I woke early and found the moon peeking at me through trees and clouds.  Not 100% full until 11:50 today … but plenty full of light and mischief.

PostSignature

Post_2018-12-22_Image_WinterSolsticeMoon

Post_2018-12-22_Poem_MoonFullness

 

 

No Standing Still

December 10, 2018.  Today marks 2 weeks since a hurried scurry in my driveway left me flat against the concrete wondering briefly what all have I broken?  And who saw me fall?  Good news on all fronts – nothing broken and no distressed neighbors hovering.  I got myself up slowly, marveling that everything still worked, and began puzzling why I tripped on something always right there, why on the day before I go to my aunt’s 94th birthday, why, why, why?

Richard Wehrman’s poem “Traveling” helps make sense of a seemingly senseless stumble.  I’ve added bloom and swirl to a photo of my purple-puffed chin.

P.S. I am back to normal skin tones.  More attentive in the driveway.  Pondering still.

PostSignature

Post_2018-12-10_Image_BruiseSwirl

Post_2018-12-10_Poem_NoStandingStill