September 9, 2018. Rain, blessed relief of 100-degree days, washing away a multitude of apprehensions – some environmental, others attitudinal. A small field in the middle of Austin (near Seton Cove Spirituality Center) erupts in masses of rain lilies after successive days of rain. Again yesterday, I hit the brakes to hop out for photos. This collage combines a clump from September 2013 with a close-up from September 2018.
The sight of these prompts a big grin and a boost of spirits. Here’s sharing …
August 24, 2018. My son’s 44th birthday, but partying with him since he’s working in Minnesota. Nevertheless, the bees had a party out front at dawn and I joined in the merriment. Recent rain has produced another flourish of Datura blooms, and the bees all came, all crazy, all oblivious to my gawking.
August 9, 2018. We have come home from our two months of rolling east then west and back to central Texas. Good to be home in spite of the heat, in spite of the backlog of mail and chores! The collage reflects one of many moments that triggered poetic response – foggy morning in North Carolina, headed toward Max Patch on the Blue Ridge Parkway. No chance to capture with camera what my eyes zeroed in on – so I scribbled haikus to hold the memory. Later, walking up to Max Patch, on trail’s edge was one more solitary golden leaf – hurrah!
June 12, 2018. Summer travels are underway – currently enjoying Arkansas near the Coleman Crystal Mine. People here are genuinely friendly (unlike the mocking birds!) Digging in red dirt, relaxing under forest shade – a place we return to whenever we go eastward. Tennessee by weekend.
This image is poor photography pieced together to illustrate a memorable encounter … iPhone on zoom yields blurs, but: “The best camera for any shot is the one you have with you” (Dewitt Jones savvy wisdom).
May 29, 2018. The school year wraps up this week, setting my teacher partner free to travel. He has been prepping our Airstream, and I have been busily tweaking reservations along the path we’re targeting this summer. Some returns, some new locations. All of it flexible should we change our minds! Our minds are crammed full … no question we are overlooking something (to be further tweaked down the line).
In our yard, every day something new blooms … bringing regrets that we must miss this to venture toward the other. This collage blends purple coneflowers with datura, both prolific bloomers frequented by bees.
April 30, 2018. April brings beautiful wildflowers to Central Texas. My favorite is the pink evening primrose, Oenothera. My first April here (1987) the median strip between walk and street proved to be primrose territory. A bonus the realtor never mentioned. Thereafter, I was careful not to mow until after the blooming! Until … in 2011 a new neighbor on the block (from out of state) created a stink about my “weeds” and sent a cop out to read me the rules. I had multiple cats and zero doubts that no rats lived in my median strip. But: rules are rules and fury is fury. I made sure I’d never be asked to mow that strip again – paved it with sandstone slabs and spite.
Now, every April, I wish I hadn’t. This year, I offer a poem to honor the missing pink and a collage to convey imagined petals – petals much larger in proportion to walkway than any Texan’s bragging might suggest; but hey, my imagination knows no limits!
February 26, 2018. A good friend has been holding the ashes of her cat Sally for a long, long time – unsure any of her places were long-term. That’s become clearer and clearer, and she asked if I had a place in our yard for Sally. Yes. And a place in my heart. A kinetic sculpture gifted by my friend at the time of her latest move marks the spot. Although Sally never saw the sculpture, I sense her energy and that of my friend coming together. It’s Spring, season for new flower beds. And a bed for Sally. The collage pulls the overall scene into a single frame. This post honors my friend, and Sally.