Friday’s Poem: Flowers Do Not Forget

Every other breath could be a reminder

of where he was that day when

much that was wild and miraculous– like raindrops

illuminating the backs of her strong hands–

came to an end.

The finality held no sound;

his breathing paused as

she measured her steps through the grass–

as if afraid she could lose her balance–

and so it was she departed, soon a ghost of love.

He returned to the garden, watered flowers,

kept all pestilence at bay;

watched bees circle and taste offerings, flit away.

He called her after time carried him forward.

She answered, said

your voice still sounds like honey,

and laughed away sadness.

It was those words, her laugh that he recalled as he

sliced flower stems, separating very few

from the group, embracing them with a loose grip

until he found a vase for a home.

And the bees followed, sunshine blessed and waned.

But he did not bring in bouquets, anymore,

those colors and fragrance a triumph.

Such a gift he could not accept–

so left them to the quiet of evening,

forgetfulness of night,

until another tending of his garden,

more gathering of any love left there.

Monday’s Meanders: Flowers to Chase Off the Gloom

I am in search of color and light today. Sometimes I need liberal doses of enchantment. An external jarring of vibrance that stirs my insides. Beyond my window, it is grey and rainy–after all, it’s winter. That is mostly alright with me. Just not recently. I am feeling wrung out by the trauma of my country and its people being harmed by the mobbing of our Capitol building and its results, the ongoing upheaval; struggles with chronic health issues; and life being lived on a somewhat dizzying edge during pandemic times.

We are all worn out. So, then: flowers. Who can deny their scintillating beauty, their bold good cheer? Such varieties! Their innate charms go far, and they have capability to offer hope of the steady seasons’ cycles and refreshed thoughts of finer human aspirations.

Cannon Beach

I feel better already. Hopefully, you do, too.

Friday's Passing Fancy/Poem: Sweet Fire

Photo by Cynthia Guenther Richardson

Persimmon bloom dense

with light, hallowed heat,

brilliant with scent that spells

senses and spirit, an ignition of fire,

tender icterine dazzle of petals,

sacred heart secret within coral canopy,

this passion of sweetest fire

and perfection of design:

a revelation of harmony, love carnal and divine

Monday’s Meanders/Photos: Dilly Dallying Snow in Green Places

White lace lays upon the usual vibrant greens in the Northwest and contrasts with signs of a slow but certain spring. I know this spattering of snow on the ground doesn’t impress, but that it is there at all is not so usual in the Willamette Valley. It snowed perhaps two inches or more 3 days ago but I grew up in Michigan…snow isn’t a major event to me. Since it has been warming to the 50s and higher, I didn’t expect it to last three days! My walks have been a bit slick and frigid–and then today it reached 60 degrees Fahrenheit. I still required a medium weight jacket, unzipped and flapping in a wind that often slices through the woods here at a whopping 800 feet.

Cascade Mountain Range

Since everything is shutting down around here, I treasure even more my long meditative–or not so meditative–walks. I found some pretty spots and a couple of comical ones.

A few families were out and about–not as many as I expected with schools closed. May all the kids stay safe, be fed, and make good use of this time despite the constraints and worries.

Ivy, ivy everywhere–looking more like usual

I was tickled to find that snow people–near pretty cherry blossoms– built a couple of days before were still standing, as if engaged in a sort of paused pantomime or mock battle, or perhaps an interrupted conversation. One snow fellow/gal was slumped on a stone bench, contemplating trials of spring–or, perhaps, simply snoozing. One never knows–they may do a few things after created by enthusiastic but we quick-to-discard-toys human beings… and then surrender to the sun.

Mt. Hood in the distance

Here’s hoping for good health for you and yours, and that you can find some peace during these troublesome days and nights. We will carry on the best we can manage and try to keep ourselves and others safe, I do pray. Seek fresh air; look for small wonders. It always helps.

Friday’s Photos: Under a Brief Pretense of Spring

Photos by Cynthia Guenther Richardson copyright 2019

We are currently under a winter storm warning in Portland. I await enchanting first flakes– very few of which we have had so far this year. Perhaps it seems much ado about nothing for someone who grew up with four foot snow drifts to rollick about in, to play the brave explorer with three layers of clothing– but we will see. I know may parts of the USA have suffered very recently the bitter cold and dangerous snowfall.

In the meantime, enjoy a few photos that not long ago indicated a different change of temperature–as it often does here this time of year. I will have patience–both for a velvety swath of snow and for a flourishing of flowers.

A park where we will soon be walking more after our March move

And there have been hints of an unfolding of tender jewels of springy blossoms amid more hearty wintery ones…

Marc and I were going to the beach for a mini break before we move– but nature changed our plans. We are now immersed in the many and sometimes arduous tasks that go along with packing and preparing to leave one place for another–but there are hot teas and tasty treats to keep us going.

Daphne–what a fragrance!

Wherever you are, may your week-end bring safety and satisfying–even happy–moments!