flower etiquette

our forsythia doesn’t bloom, never having been properly pruned the workmen (dirty-jeaned, bantering) being more adept at paint and plumbing than the etiquette of flowers © Sarah Whiteley

the uprooting

I imagine the mint went first, followed closely by the flares of the nasturtiums, and the phlox the day of the uprooting the delphiniums would have been crushed, curls of pearl and sky, into the soil that fed the roses when the garden was pulled …

dahlias

in one last, luminous bloom -summer erupts- golden, wondrous sun-drenched sentiment a perfectly whorled farewell © Sarah Whiteley

thresholds

a brace of camellia buds,
pale gold and swollen,
nod knowingly in the rain

March puddles may come,
but the thrush still shouts
when he’s discovered his mate

April is at the threshold
and soon a parish of sparrows
will be singing themselves silly
in the branches of the wild plum

© Sarah Whiteley

early autumn walk

now the jasmine’s done,
the Russian sage stands
taller, though leggy
in the September sun
and I begin to look
for purple bursts of
asters on my walks

here and there,
the anemones still bloom,
though half-droop as if
weary of the effort
to shine beside their
hardier counterparts

soon the crows will
gather in the beech tree
in raucous reunion –
a return to their winter
roost-mates and safety
in dark numbers

and I find comfort
in the crunch of leaves
the fires dripped
by trees for me to
ponder through, always
the words blooming
and roosting raucously
in my wandering head

© Sarah Whiteley

The first (and the absolute worst) of the work deadlines is past and I’ve somehow again managed to muddle through it. Tired, ruffled, feeling very behind on writing and reading, but alive all the same – and that is enough for now to be thankful for. Looking forward to a weekend of relaxing and catching up on the dusting before things pick up for the second work deadline. And I’ve got LOTS of reading to catch up on!

weed philosophy

by the roots, you say,
but sometimes the roots
are impossible to get at

or they’ve spread immeasurable
tendrils in countless directions
so that even when pulled,

pioneers still bust the sod
and burst in yellow jeers
at all my efforts

may as well give in
(nature always wins)
and call that weed a wildflower

© Sarah Whiteley

bumblebees

so many bumblebees,
the locust flowers
tremble in delight –
my window is open
wide to wonder!

© Sarah Whiteley

I do love the locust tree outside my window. The flowers are just beginning to fade and fall, but it’s still abuzz with fat little bumblebees all day and in the evening the Anna’s hummingbirds come for their share of the sweet. So fun to watch them! To top it all off, there’s a squirrel nest in the tree and near dusk, the whole family of them scampers past along the power line on their way home. Lucky, lucky, lucky me.

If you haven’t seen the crow news lately – go and check it out! Exciting stuff happening!