tissue petals flame,
holy morning fire
shield of green catches sparks
.
Nasturtiums
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Tag Archives: nature
Lessons on My Porch in April
Lessons on My Porch in April
red bird perches on weathered gate
watching his mate rustling rose canes
scarlet winged guardian with black mask,
he protects her blushed brown plumage,
has hunted seeds for their courtship
to feed her, bright beak to bright beak
they teach me cardinal rules:
mate for life, travel together,
watch for danger, listen to warnings
find each other when it grows dark
sing songs for each other
stay
twig woven to twig
note woven to note
labor on feathered loom
homework
Breathing in Spring
“Sweetly breathing , vernal air,
That with kind warmth doth repair
Winter’s ruins; from whose breast
All the gums and spice of the East
Borrow their perfumes; whose eye
Gilds the morn, and clears the sky.”
When I read that Thomas Carew wrote this in the 17th century, I liked thinking how throughout time Spring has brought gladness and gratitude to men’s hearts. I grew up in Northeast Texas where Redbud trees are among the first signs of Spring. I have one planted in my front yard here, and I always watch for those first purplish buds to swell – sign of resurrection, of new life, promise of the greening to come.
Hope Within
within pages of garden catalogs
within thin paper packets
ready to pour out
tiny beginnings
within my sweaty palm
rests hope
Seed Time
Seed finds damp earth
time to be broken
shed its old brown coat
and change forever
Centering
Receive each day as
a resurrection from death,
as a new enjoyment of life.
[William Law]
I do not skip down a Lenten path singing
my steps are slow, measured
intentional
a labyrinth path reminding
each day
take one step, then another
on toward center
and Song
Finding Beauty
“if you ignore beauty, you will soon find yourself without it,
But if you invest in beauty,
it will remain with you
all the days of your life.”
~ Frank Lloyd Wright
Remembering the planting and sprouting
watching for beauty of weed and flower
cool dark hours bring both
To be still
to be astonished
to see beauty in a cabbage
before it goes into the soup
Lantana
Wanting to choose plants for my garden that don’t need constant watering and fertilizing, I favor native Southeast Texas plants. I didn’t plant the large bushes of Lantana that are showing up this time of year, growing from the roots in a few days of sunshine. The birds did! The plant produces deep purple berries which are poisonous to cattle, sheep and humans,but birds love them and spread the seeds. Bees use the nectar in making honey, and the tube flowers, are excellent food for many butterflies. Lantana thrives in the full summer sun and heat, requiring little water and taking the blistering heat of summer by covering itself with multi-colored flowers shaped like tiny nosegays.
I am realizing that many of the plants I remember in my grandmother’s and mother’s flower beds were volunteer, reseeding or re-emerging each year.
Reseeding. Returning.
Simple, ordinary flowering
of color and beauty
reminding me of Grace,
both perennial and volunteer
Peace
Pewter skies and gentle rains yesterday gathered into thunder clouds and stormy weather today, so I stay inside, grateful for the morning last week when I took my camera into the morning light to receive the gifts of beauty offered by this climbing Noisette rose, whose name is Crepuscule. I don’t think the name is a lovely one, sounding harsh to my ears, but the word means twilight, that time of day just after sunset, and the flowers hold the memory of sunset in its unfurling petals. The loosely double blooms open nearly orange, fading to a rich apricot, peach, and yellow. The sprawling canes have light green leaves with rosy new growth. This rose has few thorns so reaches for me only with fragrance when I brush past it as I walk through the arbor, bringing me the “peace of wild things.”
THE PEACE OF WILD THINGS
When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.
~ Wendell Berry
Winter’s Last Verse
Our typically mild Texas Gulf Coast Winter has teased us with its wide variety of weather. The past week has been an example of the season’s vagaries. An unseasonably warm few days ended with storm force winds and a cold front – which for us has meant a return to morning temperatures in the upper 30’s warming up considerably as the day moves on. I already see that first hazy blush of green on trees that leaf soonest. In these last days of winter, Spring is already humming and I look ahead with excitement. But in a desire to celebrate the now and savor the gifts of this season, I walk in the sunshine and remember…
“Winter is the time for comfort, for good food and warmth, for the touch of a friendly hand, and for a talk beside the fire: it is the time for home.” ~ Edith Sitwell
The cardinal that perched outside my kitchen window early this morning didn’t linger long enough for me to get his photograph, but just long enough to sing me the last verse of Winter’s Song.
Stones and Feathers 