Happy Yellow Friday #4 Daffodils

Near where I live there is a field of daffodils that bloom every year. I wait months for these beautiful flowers to bloom, I drive by, even if it is out of my way, to watch them pop up, fully bloom, slowly fade away.

I look forward to seeing them every year, the time that they are alive and fresh, as if they are smiling, is only a matter of a few days but I stop the car each day and I smile back every time I see them. The are on a hill with bright green, manicured grass and it looks like a perfect photograph. I tried once to photograph them but it was unsuccessful, you must need a wide-angle lens.

Yellow daffodils - floriade canberra

That’s okay, I have loved them for so many years that the picture I have of them lives in my heart. I am grateful for having been able to see this for the last 15 years. I look forward to seeing them again in the  Spring.

Yellow daffodils

 

 

 

 

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#Free Write Friday, Kellie Elmore

Well, little one,” said a Tree to a Reed that was growing at its foot, “why do you not plant your feet deeply in the ground, and raise your head boldly in the air as I do?”

 

“I am contented with my lot,” said the Reed. “I may not be so grand, but I think I am safer.”

 

“Safe!” sneered the Tree. “Who shall pluck me up by the roots or bow my head to the ground?” But, it soon had to repent of its boasting, for a hurricane arose which tore it up from its roots, and cast it a mere, gigantic and useless log on the ground, while the little Reed,
bending to the force of the wind,  back and forward, soon stood upright again when the storm had passed.

 

Moral of Aesops Fable: Obscurity often brings security.

Nobody felt safe, we knew the world had changed and the power of us poppies were strengthened by the support of having one another. Sometimes, close friends would whisper their fears amongst themselves but mostly, we walked with our heads lowered, burrowed in heavy winter jackets as if their jackets were shields, our hoods covering our faces, of course they were. We hid beneath as many layers as we possibly could because deep inside we are scared to death, our new reality. We couldn’t lie, we were all in this together and that brought comfort to us.

Even when we didn’t watch the news or read the papers, the news would slip out like oily black ink and it would stain our petals, our brains and those images never, ever would go away. Fear was imprinted on our souls and there was nothing we could do to forget what we had seen or heard.

It was the devil’s handshake, some people called it, those who thought they knew better or pretended that they weren’t afraid, those boasting about how much money they had, their egos, over-inflated, grown-up bullies.

One old, grand big tree, we called “the monster” was mean to everyone,

English: a tree

a child, an elder grandmother, sweet white puppies. There was no excuse for that, the fat cow could not ever explain that away even if anyone wanted to listen but nobody did. Her justice will come in her own way, in tepid waters of muddy grass, sloshing through messy brown mud endlessly, never finding her way back. Homeless. Alone. Thinking she was smarter, because of her size and depth, stronger, more powerful than everyone else. All bluster, self-deprecating to hide the cruel reality of knowing not who she really was but how others truly saw her.

It escaped no one but herself. One day, even she, would look up from the ground and see herself, still strong, roots planted, with wildflowers all around her, petals of rose, pink,

yellow, and blue, laughing together, the sound of sweet angels in a club, chirpy birds were invited but the club had no room for her.

The tables had turned, it taken a long time but eventually karma had caught up. Our soft willows, loose wildflowers, dancing in the wind, singing songs, perhaps not in harmony, but with delight and passion, having fun, we felt sorry for that big old maid, that over-critical stump.

Alone, all alone in the middle of the forest, away from everyone else, while the rest of us could bend with the wind, smile at the sunshine with the lovely wind and whistles as a mere game of promise and friendship and love.

English: Old tree stump, Beaulieu Wood The rem...

We were all friends, together, except for Her, that snobby tree, who criticized everybody, yet never looked inside her rotten, ugly, stump, its decay on the inside visible to those outside, its scent slowly, insidiously, reeking of week old trash, of judgment, of her.

The fragile willows, we,  bent together, laughing, this way and that, in abundance, we knew we were all equal, all the same not better than one another,

that kept us together, happy. We trusted one another.

We were one united bunch of laughing flowers,our heads gloriously pointed to sun. The old, big tree stump, callous and mean, sat in shambles on the ground, broken, alone. we walked over its pieces and never looked back.When it rained all of us just bent a little lower and in the distance you could hear us not breaking but singing, quiet songs, happy songs in unison.

 

 

 

#FWF Kellie Elmore

Petrichor: The smell after it rains.

 

After it rains

 

Lavender

 

the scent of sweet lavender lingers in the air

 

droplets of water, morning dew, glisten on tall, oblong leaves.

 

Wild flowers, purple, pink, yellow, blue sway together like fans in a concert

 

dancing in the wind

 

stretching to feel the warmth of the velvet sun.

 

Fresh, green mint plants,

 

tickle our noses,

 

we inhale the menthol, clear our senses, to feel alive.

sunset

sunset (Photo credit: lil miss priss)

Mix mint with lime and muddled basil and sweet cane sugar, seltzer

 

to celebrate the glorious day with mojitos.

 

We sit on the freshly painted, white outside deck, of our house

 

waiting for the sun to set

 

With our best friends, our beloved dogs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Plinky Prompt: Trains, Planes, Automobiles?

  • San Carlos IR wildflowers, 2010, Sunset

    San Carlos IR wildflowers, 2010, Sunset (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

    You’re going on a cross-country trip. Airplane, train, bus, or car? (Or something else entirely — bike? Hot air balloon?) See all answers

  • Trains, planes, and automobiles
  • Train Plus Car: First a train with a sleeper compartment so I don’t get restless and cranky. Add lots of food and a dining car, seems like fun. Mix in a car somewhere along the line for freedom. Make a lot of stops wherever you feel like it, no reservations. See the beauty of nature, all across the country. Slip into cool streams naked, where the water is crystal clear, drink the water by cupping your hands together, splash the water at your dog and companion. Laugh a lot. Finally get to see a shooting star, you never see them in a city or suburb. Decide where you want to live if you ever get to retire. It’s a trip, a hope, a fantasy all in one. Fresh meadows of wildflowers, a fire at night outside, the smell of burning marshmallows, the feeling of utter peace.

Gray Skies, Blue Ahead

English: Yosemite Meadows – Half Dome in...

English: Yosemite Meadows – Half Dome in Yosemite National Park, California, USA. Français : Le Half Dome vu de Yosemite Meadows, les prairies humides qui couvrent le fond de la Vallée de Yosemite, dans le Parc national du même nom, en Californie (États-Unis). (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I miss the lemon color of sunshine, the way it warms my shoulders or how it feels when I lift my face upwards. Blue skies too, I long to see them and not look at gloomy gray skies. I would consider it to be a gift to see the sky a robin egg’s blue without a single cloud. How can you feel incredibly happy when you look up at the sky and see bare, brittle branches leaning against a milky, dull sky. It’s not white because that could give one hope, but a color between white and gray; I’m looking at it right now. I’ve been looking at it every single day for three months.

I have no plans for today, I could have scheduled some but I didn’t want to have any, it’s one of those days when I wanted to do what I had to do in “me” time. For me, that’s slow. Perhaps, slower than most. I still need to shower and do all of my laundry and I haven’t started anything yet. The only thing I have managed is to sip my blessed cup of strong morning coffee in my bright flowered mug and toss a ring to my dog a few times. Now, her curled up against me on the bed is not a great motivator. I need to get up.

I have told myself to get up for the last hour. I cannot even blame my illnesses for this. This is just laziness and comfort and a question mark. Why do I have to get up? There’s really no good reason that I can figure out, but yes, it’s self-indulgent. What’s the matter with self-indulgence now and then? I’m not watching television or eating bon- bons, no one is here to give me a manicure or pedicure. I’m here, alone with my silence, thinking. My sister always has to be moving, doing, acting, she can’t stay still, I am the total opposite. I can sit and dream and read, be still and think. It doesn’t bother me; I hope I stay this way. It comes in handy. I don’t “have to get out of the house” like my mother who seeks entertainment as much as possible.

My husband and I had tentatively planned a vacation, not one that we are really interested in so we won’t pursue it. I decide I need to be closer to nature, something I have stayed away from for many years but I know the time is right He is absolutely thrilled but thinks I’m kidding. I’m not. I have felt the pull for months now, two of my friends, Ash and Michelle have inspired me  I don’t want to camp out (let’s not be crazy) although that is a funny thought, but I want to be surrounded by trees and waterfalls and the smell of the good, clean earth. I want to go someplace (I’d prefer to drive than fly but that’s unlikely) where all I need to think about are the different types of birds, how many shades of green there really are and the taste of exceptionally clean water. I want to see wildflowers and butterflies and rocks.

Waterfalls, mountains, slow hiking, the sun warming me like a light blanket, taking deep breaths that fill my chest like eating honey slowly. I want to see the stars at night, it is startling to say I have never seen a shooting star; it’s always been one of my goals. It is something new to try, something new to love, that is what I am ready for, that is what will happily get me out of bed.

Yosemite Wildflowers

Yosemite Wildflowers (Photo credit: Selected Pixels)

Haiku Heights – SPRING

Crib Stand 2

Crib Stand 2 (Photo credit: Clover_1)

San Carlos IR wildflowers, 2010, Sunset

Image via Wikipedia

“You sprung me” she said

I lifted her from the crib

Her first memory.

************************************************************************************************************************

Wildflowers twinkle

waving in the morning sun

after winter’s blight

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Startled crocuses

Man In The Moondance under the moonlight’s smile

very eager to please.

In Spring

Some beautiful flowers in the sun.

I like the taste of blood in my mouth as I rip the skin from my bottom lip. In some way it’s soothing, familiar, it’s not a particular good taste but not a bad taste either. I don’t consider this self-harming.  I do it more in the winter when my lips are particularly dry but the dryness is really just a prelude to an activity to be performed. You really can’t lose in this game.

It’s been far too long since I have left my house for “socialization” purposes; I am a gorilla needing social training.  I think I’m starved for people, conversation, maybe conversation over food. I haven’t had that for the last four weeks. It’s almost like I’ve lived like a monk.  A monk and her dog.

I have tired myself out today and tonight by cleaning  things. We have buckets that are still not unpacked from the “construction site project.” I don’t know if we will ever get to them or just put them aside in our already over-cluttered basement. In cleaning things I find relics from when my children were very young; my daughter’s tiny, faded, soft, pink ballet shoes, my son’s five-year-old’s beaming face on his baseball photo, a radiant smile of my husband and my fake “engagement photograph.” We did not want anything formal so we had this amazing, fun photo taken of us, full of hope, flirtation, tenderness and surprise. We were looking forward to all the possibilities in our future, our informal wedding, places to travel, maybe babies some day. It’s so lovely to be young and in love.

I sit tonight among boxes and huge plastic rubber tubs, some filled with paper, some empty; my answer to organizing is to sit in the middle of all these items, surrounded by my past. I try to throw out as much as possible but I don’t get very far. I do know where I have been but I have marked that in a box labeled “SENTIMENTAL.” A big achievement for me.

Now, I need to look forward, beyond the blood of the bleeding lip, beyond my daughter’s wonderful acceptance to colleges. I need to stop feeling old and tired and worn out. My heart and head haven’t caught up yet but I know they will. Perhaps when the forsythia blooms bright yellow and the crocus’ peek out from the ground and the weather warms itself up like a buttermilk biscuit melting with butter. I, too shall start anew.

What Would YOU Do, If You Were Not Afraid?*

Norway

*Reminder, this is a game, it’s not taking into account that I would be leaving my family. More hypothetical than actual. What would YOU do if you were not afraid…..share your answers in the comment section.

I think about things that appeal to me yet also scare me at the same time. My first answer is that I would travel all over the world, alone. I would also want to live in a foreign country for a year and not worry about the language barriers, not worry about anything. I’ve always said I wanted to live in different places and that would be something I would do.

I wouldn’t have a time-table, just an open return flight and tons of money to spend (now you can say it’s really a fantasy). I would go to places I’ve never been, or at least not been since I was a child and flying with my parents on free airline tickets.  I would visit Sweden and Copenhagen and Norway, Italy, the South of France in the springtime, Japan but only if I didn’t have to eat sushi. (oh right, I’m not supposed to worry about ANYTHING) okay, I’d eat steaming rice and tasty noodles in a fragrant broth.

I’d go to the islands of Greece and go to Israel after that. I would return to the US and stay home in the spring. Then, I would travel to places in the US : Atlanta, Chicago, Maine, Vermont, I’d spend time in Rhode Island too, California…..that’s just a start. I would want to visit the North and South Carolina; I’d stop in Las Vegas too.

Traveling alone is first on my list, my only companion would be my laptop and my camera and perhaps a stuffed animal to cozy up to at night…..I would need a lot of money, of course, because I’m too old to backpack my way through Europe (actually I don’t think I was ever that type.) Find me a nice hotel and a soft bed with a down comforter and fluffy pillows, white lace curtains on open windows, my own bathroom and a vase of wildflowers at my bedside.