Tag Archives: love

by

Gone wild

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.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: lush and for Cee’s Flower of the Day.

by

Beach finds

I picked this agate up. See how it looks like a Gummi Bear, a different texture than the other rocks? The clear ones light up when the sun is polarized. It is harder to find them when it is not sunny.

This is not an agate, but some agates are this color. I try not to bring occupied houses home.

This is an agate too, not clear, but lovely color and striping.

Here is another clear one:

I am not the only creature searching the beach.

These were taken on Marrowstone Island and on the beach below Chetzemoka Park in Port Townsend.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: find.

by

catch

Catch

What bucket can catch this light and color?
None, I think, and then I think I am wrong.
A bucket lowered and set in the water,
Turquoise and blue and black, a song.
Lift the bucket and the turquoise is gone.
Reflected light, a dance on on the riffles.
It’s like the happiness for which we long.
Caught for a moment, containment stifles
the reflection of joy in our face and hearts.
The face that lights from music or dance
or a moment touched by another’s art.
Let joy come and go, take the chance.
The light on the water will be gone at night.
Joy wants to be free and not held too tight.

I heard the band The Winetree last September in Ohio.

Sonnet 17.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: bucket.

by

Seal of approval

Signed, sealed, delivered but not aligned
we arrange ourselves with hands like fins
we arrange ourselves according to time
the island shrinks as the tide rolls in
the island hides in the moon pulled sea
our fur warmed in the sun’s brief kiss
we roll in the waves and dive so deep
we roll into the water to play and fish
the fish flock to school to avoid our teeth
we chase and catch and eat our fill
now the island is a shallow rock reef
the flash of the fish as they come to grief
the tide rolls in, the tide rolls out
we climb back on our island as it climbs out

__________________

I walked south on Marrowstone Island two days ago. The tide was starting to come in. The little island is covered when the tide is high and everyone has to go swim. I think they were enjoying the sun as much as I was.

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: align.

And speaking of seals:

by

The creeping wild

No mow May: here.

Home meadows are becoming more common, for pollinators. Unmown, with wildflowers. There is a movement for a no mow May, to help pollinators and insects survive. This will help the birds too, because insects are food.

I quit mowing half my lot in 2007, after checking with the neighbors. I had just finished a divorce and I was paying my ex and I did not have time to mow it, nor money, nor inclination. My lot is L shaped. The 1930s garage extends onto the second lot, which is perpendicular to the first lot and goes to the middle of the block. The plumbing goes there too.

The lot is a deer stop. The deer circle a route that is often the same from year to year. This lot is not very visible from the road because a huge rosa rugosa, well over my head, fronts on the street. The deer come in through the driveway. There are high fences around it now, but there are still two other exits. One at the other end, to another driveway, and one past the garage next door. I watch for fawns in the spring, the mothers will leave them there some days.

I have birds and nests and sometimes raccoons and squirrels. I have seen coyotes within a block. This year I have a pair of “swamp robins”, also known as varied thrush, at my bird feeder. That is a first. My present cats are allowed out on leash or in the cat cage, so I have lots more birds all around the house. The birds apparently know that the cats are contained.

The lurker in the cover picture is Sol Duc. The grass is already deep.

My front and back lawn are still lawn, sort of. I have not used any weedkiller ever, and have lived here since 2000. Siberian squill and parsley and daffodils and forget-me-nots are busily invading the lawn. Also oregano and thyme. The deer are unenthused about most of these. They can come through the sometimes mown back of the house, but the front yard is fenced to protect my roses.

The deer do eat the squill. Maybe I could have a lawn of squill, mown by deer.

I like my lawn full of weeds. I am not very interested in grass and I like birds and insects much more. Ok, not cockroaches or fleas. We are not warm enough to have a lot of mosquitoes in my yard.

Maybe the deer like the leaves but not the flowers.

The wild has taken over the center of the block and now is creeping through my back yard and my front yard. And I am rooting for it all the way.

by

Sinecure

Sinecure

Sometimes patients are a mystery.

A relatively young man comes to see me.
Problems, a bit intricate, I type a thorough
history as we talk. I make suggestions
and he is to return in a few weeks.
He receives a copy of the note and plan
spit out by the printer.

He returns. There is a pain component.
He does not bring the journal I suggested.
He seems no better. I add a little to the plan
and suggest that he return again.

And again and again. Fourth visit. No journal.
“What have you tried that I have suggested?”
He replies, “I haven’t read your notes yet.”
“You haven’t read my notes yet? In three months?
I’ll tell you what: how about you return after
you read my notes and try some
of my suggestions. Why come in if you aren’t interested
in trying anything?” I do not go to rage.
It is not my problem. It is his problem.
If he doesn’t like the plan or doesn’t want to read
(yes he can read) or doesn’t want change,
that is his choice. Don’t waste my time.

He does not return.

It is a mystery. What did he want?
Why didn’t he tell me if he wanted something else?
If it was opiates perhaps he asked around
and decided I am the wrong “provider”
since I am very careful about those provisions.

A mystery. I wonder if it could have played out
differently. Then I let it go and move on.

_________________

For the Ragtag Daily Prompt: sinecure.

by

Daily Evil: V is for Virago

Virago gives positive and negative definitions, but all female. The most positive ones are of a very strong woman, “like a man”. Is there a male word that means the same thing? A word for a man, where the most positive one is that he’s very strong, “like a woman”. Perhaps “like a woman in labor”. Let’s make one up if we can’t think of one. “Obstetico”, perhaps. A man who complains like he’s a woman in labor, but the positive definition is strong like a woman in labor.

This is a watercolor postcard. Helen Burling Ottaway painted a bunch of postcards, with wonderful detail. These snapdragons could be viragos or obstetricos or perhaps both. This is from 1999, two years into her ovarian cancer. So the song is the Bald Headed Blues.