Golden pea pods are on the vine, easy to see against the green. Patches of spinach, arugula, kale, chard and beet greens. Let’s go make a salad. Add scallions, fresh herbs- parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. Now I am in a song.
Be patient tending tomato, cucumber and pepper plants. Someday they too will join in the salad.
wake from day to day
pray for more sun and some rain
we eat from the bowl
We hiked to the end of Watchman Trail. Not too red in the face. Not too out of breath just kept going to the top. Then we sat on a rock and eat our lunch surrounded by peaks of Zion.
picnic on the trail
can’t remember what we ate
fed by the beauty
I gave my sewing machines away. Now there is only cloth here; corduroy, tweeds, raw silks and purple satin. Someday the needle will rise and fall again, guiding thread into fabric, connecting pieces together with looping threads.
holding tight this creation
dVerse quadrille prompt with the word rise and form of a haibun
History is no joke. It is a record of what is happening, happened or didn’t happen. “Fake News” becomes history. A current event is history tomorrow. History is ancient or recent. Ninevah was a real city buried in sand, with a real gate, resurrected and bombed.
History is a joke when used to advance an agenda. My fifth grade textbook world history teacher could never get to the chapter on the Middle East. I would read ahead. Daydream of the Hanging Gardens of Babylon. I wanted to dig deeper to see what was under the sand.
mind craves for meaning
ammunition for profit
know who benefits
dVerse prompt – haibun on April Fools Day – being pranked
In March we make our move out of the state of Texas. Head southwest towards the border, a northerly keeps us cold and provides a tail wind. I want to see the border for myself. I want to eat tamales and count butterflies along the Rio Grande.
Tomorrow we will go on towards Davis Mountain and see the stars. If the temperatures rise, we will swim in a spring fed pool but it is March. The weather is unpredictable and we go day by day hoping for some sunshine.
freeze in South Texas
tornadoes in Alabam
flee to promised sun
dVerse prompt on March Madness
Sun was setting on Lake Pontchartrain so I hurried along the road where once a sugar cane plantation stood. Past trees hundreds of years old. I did not expect such solitude. Only a young pelican learning to dive close to shore broke the calm of the lake.
On the walk back I saw a white-headed woodpecker and three deer standing on the fringe of the marsh. The fading light surrounded everything.
rare winter bird calls
hidden in the long branches
to be discovered
dVerse prompt on solitude
Less than a week of being off the water of the mighty Colorado River, my body is still rocking. Some call it disembarkment syndrome when your mind is sensing movement that is no longer there.
My mind returns to the shore of the Grand Canyon, Poncho’s Kitchen, thick sand, rock ledges where the silent scorpion was ready to pounce on a moth that night. How it glowed white under Danny’s UV light and we watched it move in its own darkness.
what we cannot see
hidden in summer shadow
more than time and space
dVerse prompt on sounds of summer – most scorpions make no sound – saw my first one while camping on the Colorado River in the Grand Canyon