The flowers float like gold petillant bubbles in the woods, their crackling too soft for my human ears.
I think this is a berry, but I’m not sure. It is on an old farm in Quilcene, gone wild. There is a cherry tree and four rhododendrons, an old chicken coop and an apple tree. Salmonberries and this. What is it?
There must have been a garden here long ago No house but a chicken coop still stands Three rhodys gone wild: lush and gorgeous show Taller than I can reach overhead with hands Scattered daffodils, the deer don’t like them much. No tulips, the deer eat them down to the ground. Petunia purple faces spread through brush. The deer are shy not like the herds in town Who teach the fawns to cross at crosswalks during day. They don’t like rhodys either so the trio grows Untrimmed, untrammeled, untamed, without a stay I wonder if there’s envy from wild roses Wild roses thorn each inch to hide in brush, while the rhodys climb like trees, flowering lush.
This tree was on the beach below Chezemoka park this week.
How can I say it is a winner? Someone had sawed through one end. This tree had a long life judging by the number of rings. Now it has fallen and probably gone down a river to land on the beach. It might be there tomorrow or the tide may carry it off again.
Refugees welcome - Flüchtlinge willkommen I am teaching German to refugees. Ich unterrichte geflüchtete Menschen in der deutschen Sprache. I am writing this blog in English and German because my friends speak English and German. Ich schreibe auf Deutsch und Englisch, weil meine Freunde Deutsch und Englisch sprechen.
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