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.
January 18, 2018. Tuesday Austin Texas shut down due to iced roadways – schools, government offices, many businesses sent out alerts the night before: please stay off the roadways. This happens once every year or so, usually for one day. In colder places, cities take remedial action and keep roadways open. Here, we get a day off (except schools must take away a planned free day later in the calendar.)
I slept in, waking to the lure of chicken soup simmering, gave the day’s opportunity a few select thoughts, and pulled out a jigsaw puzzle. Not just any puzzle – I chose the greenhouse scene, plants thriving while “shut in” – like me. The collage hopefully conveys my sense of being in the greenhouse while working the puzzle.
January 11, 2017. I can’t recall a more turbulent November/December than what 2016 dished up. And 2017 promptly slapped down a hard freeze. No more meditative consolation from my landscape! Or so I thought – but observing Buddha and St. Francis staying put in spite of the devastation captured my imagination, and a poem crept in as solace.
And listening to our President’s farewell speech last night gives me resolve to stay put in my stance that we are all in this together, more alike than not, and together we will grow from whatever follows.
December 21, 2016. Solstice dawned clear and sunny, a welcome followup to our first freeze a couple nights ag0, repeated, repeated – now history except for the abundance of plants turning into mush piles. The Brugmansia was trying to bloom another round. For a week prior to the freeze I gave it daily encouragement (with a hint of hurry up!) This morning I stood transfixed by rising sunlight beaming through the still-green wilted leaves and the still-yellow tubular buds – a different sort of beauty, a different sort of strength holding my attention – model for stepping into a radical change of seasons. Many dire circumstances could derail its Spring emergence, but Brugmansia isn’t burdened with worst-case scenarios. (Oh, for such clarity of being.)
December 1, 2016. December rolled in on a cold front – but a clear blue sky made for warmth when properly positioned in line with the Sun. I couldn’t resist, and out I went with my journal. Luckily, I had the camera phone in my pocket to capture the take-over that ensued. Ziggy showed me an even better way to sit in the sun.