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We had our first thunderstorm this afternoon. I love thunderstorms, complete with lightning. I was inside the office, so it didn’t have the same luscious impact as it would have had I been in the Bungalow, but nevertheless, it was cleansing and a sweet portent of summer storms to come.
Steamboat Springs, Colorado.
Quote of the day: “Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature — the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter.” — Rachel Carson
Talking to E-Bro
No, in order to see flowers, we have to look back, back, back to a late summer day several years ago…I had high hopes that soon we would be basking in the glory of sun and blooms, but noooooo….we’re expecting snow again next week. In the meantime, I gaze longingly at beach pictures and images of flowers past. Just for a little while longer.
Quote of the Day: ”Have you ever wondered why certain people cross our paths or are put into our lives? I wonder how many so-called chance meetings are really part of a bigger plan. Then that leads me to wonder if my presence has the same impact on someone I seemingly just passed by. Maybe if we approach every other person we encounter as if there is a specific reason and greater purpose than chance to why we met at that very moment in time, there would be a lot more civility and much greater care taken in our interactions.” – K. Wierman
Books you don’t want to finish because you don’t want them to end
Making Kelsea’s day with funny texts
That my ankle finally hurt a little less today
Remember this? Spring? Blooms? Never fear. Soon come.
Quote of the day: “Time is the coin of your life. You spend it. Do not allow others to spend it for you.” – Carl Sandburg
The teasing return of birds
A soft sunrise
The light on the skyscrapers this morning
Iced green tea
Should I be posting Christmas pictures instead of other seasons? I don’t know. What I know is that now that we are past the most recent apocalypse prediction, we might just hope that we have a new world unfolding before us – a kinder, gentler, more beautiful, more tender, more thoughtful world. A new spring born this Christmas season.
Quote of the day: “I offer you peace. I offer you love. I offer you friendship. I see your beauty. I hear your need. I feel your feelings.” – Mahatma Gandhi
Wrapping paper swordfights in WalMart
Stanzas of Remembered Flowers
I tried so hard to grow,
Neglected by long hours of too much work and finally
Dug up to death by my ex-husband
after the end of everything.
But it’s scent – bottled -
shines on my pillow on sleepless nights
and reminds me of my mother.
my grandfather’s favorite scent, my mother (yes, her again) told me.
I have a small cask of violet scent
that I cannot bear to open
because if I use it
it will be gone
and then I will not know what my
grandfather’s favorite scent was.
It has been on my shelf for so long
it likely smells now only of dust.
along the brick front steps
of the house where I grew up,
the blossoms a rare treat,
exotic and sensual in their scent.
I would spend time
picking off the little bugs that would harm the plant,
trying to keep it alive
even as the blooms turned golden brown,
their fragrance dragged down into the mud by age and air.
as a first hope
when winter seems unbearable,
tightly budded turned to trumpeting blooms
with a scent so scant one must know how to smell for it
but so fresh and full of spring as a ball of sunlit butter or warm kitten fur.
I sneak sniffs of their yellowness in the grocery store
and remember scampering over rocks
in fields that were full lush ripe joyous overwhelming endless
a drunken rainbow of colors
in the past and present and future,
dried and hanging from the ceilings and walls of the bungalow,
single corsages of forgotten origin tucked away in boxes,
saved so I would always remember.
The dozen yellow roses that my parents sent me
when my daughter was born.
Always my mother’s favorite.
consuming my small house
that I no longer live in,
their bushes roof-high,
their branches old and gnarled,
but every few years
the weight of their harvest
encompasses all the old white boards
and fading red trim
an ordinary little old domicile
into a bower of magic.
So many more
captured in the mind’s eye,
in the recollected scent of complicated night breezes
and happenstance passages,
so many more to name
but every poem must
have an end
Or at least a pause
to cleanse the palate
and clear the senses.
The bloom is still on the rose in the small garden in City Park. This picture reminded me of one of my favorite fairy tales when I was a child.
Quote of the day: “In our most ordinary days we have moments of happiness, moments of comfort and enjoyment, moments of seeing something that pleased us, something that touched us, moments of contacting the tenderness of our hearts. We can take joy in that. I find that it’s essential during the day to actually note when I feel happiness or when something positive happens, and to begin to cherish those moments as precious. Gradually we can begin to cherish the preciousness of our whole life just as it
is, with its ups and downs, its failures and successes, its roughness and smoothness.” – Pema Chodron
The sound of the sea in conch shells
My Kindle application
I have a hard time disposing of faded blooms, and apparently, so do the people in The Boathouse Restaurant up in the quaint and wonderful town of Salida. They hold a beauty all their own.
Quote of the day: ”In any man who dies, there dies with him his first snow and kiss and fight. Not people die, but worlds die in them.” – Yevgeny Yevtushenko
Writing poetry in my head
Old frozen lasagna that surprises me by tasting like my favorite frozen pizza from childhood
Two blooms in tandem, showing their age, but still lovely.
Tortola, British Virgin Islands.
Quote of the Day: “Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.” – William Wordsworth
The three fawns, still spotted, cavorting in a field on the edge of Boulder
Making a decision about our Labor Day getaway
Being twinsies in attire with strangers
Sometimes flowers are reluctant to have their picture taken, but insatiable photographers that we are, we insist.
Quote of the day: “People who dream when they sleep at night know of a special kind of happiness which the world of the day holds not, a placid ecstasy, and ease of heart, that are like honey on the tongue.” – Isak Dineson
The wind before the rain
Day lily buds – and the memory of E-Bro picking, cooking, and eating them, a la Euell Gibbons
An infinite number of shades of blue
Anegada is a haven for wild orchids. Finding them takes a bit of bushwhacking, but the rewards are lovely.
Anegada, British Virgin Islands.
Quote of the day: “Our deepest wishes are whispers of our authentic selves. We must learn to respect them. We must learn to listen.” – Sarah Ban Breathnach
That it is slightly cooler
A lovely birthday yesterday
My new fly rods