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.
February 16, 2018. My affinity for digital collage is two-fold — for the freedom to make a moon as dominant in the image as in my mind’s eye, and for the meditative process of detailing, removing distractions to emphasize desired geometry — directed by whim.
A nod to recent posts from Michael Fiveson (m5son.wordpress.com) and Stephanie Harper (slharperpoetry.com) – your words stirred mine.
February 4, 2018. Today’s sunshine affirms my optimism that this incredibly cold winter will, eventually, blend into Spring. This poem has been sprouting since last week’s encounter with morning glory seed pods catching afternoon sun rays – shining, seeming to call out for a caress.
November 14, 2017. From this afternoon’s impromptu walk with the dog …