I know I’m not alone in feeling overwhelmed by all the horrifying happenings in the world right now. In an act of self-preservation, I’ve spent today in a fictional world that exists in my head. I’m revising my middle-grade novel, spending time with some funny girls and “bad” guys who, in the big scheme of things, aren’t really all that bad. I know that I need to return to reality tomorrow and behave as a contributing member of society, but right now I’m hunkered down in a happier place.
Today Zippy and I went to Berry Patch Farms in Brighton, Colorado.
Michelle’s mother and sisters arranged to have a bench and stone placed there in her memory, seeing as it was one of Michelle’s favorite places to visit with her young daughter.
At the top of the stone is a quote from Michelle: “Now this is what a strawberry should taste like.”
Note: the rooster windchime on the tree was there before Michelle’s bench. Can you say SERENDIPITY?
On their frequent visits to the farm with the old red barn, Michelle and her daughter would watch the chickens and roosters.
They’d pick berries together and take home bouquets of cut flowers.
Today, Michelle’s mother, sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces, nephews, and friends gathered in her memory. For the past two weeks or so, the weather has been uncharacteristically cold and rainy, but today the sun was shining in a blue, blue sky. The morning was lovely, and I suspect Michelle pulled some strings to make it so.
It was bittersweet being at the farm without Michelle, but here I am warming her cheery red bench along with three of the Writing Roosters, the critique group she lobbied to include me in its membership. Michelle’s generosity lives on.
Jenn Bertman, Tracy Abell, Jen Simms, Laura Perdew (Vanessa Appleby & Claudia Mills were unable to attend)
As I revise my middle-grade novel, plugging holes and solving plot problems, I’m keeping this sentiment in mind:
Luck is not chance, it’s toil;
fortune’s expensive smile is earned.
~ Emily Dickinson
Honey bees don’t need a pithy quote; they made the connection between luck and toil a looong time ago.
That title is a little play on words.
Why? Because the closer, larger sunflowers should be the focus of the photo.
But instead of being the sharpest images, they’re the most blurred.
Anyone looking at this photo must search for my focus,
which is something I find myself doing more and more.
So, welcome to the club.
Earth is a flower and it’s pollinating.
~ Neil Young
These cheery flowers typically raise their faces to the sky, seeking out the sun’s warm embrace.
Here, they hang their heads and avert their gazes from the hail raining down on them.
Fortunately, the storm has already passed through and they’ll live to smile another day.
Do not waste time dreaming of great faraway opportunities;
do the best you can where you are.
Open your petals of power and beauty
and fling out the fragrance of your life in the place that has been assigned to you.
~ Orison Swett Marden
All fiction relies on the real world
in the sense that we all take in the world through our five senses
and we accumulate details, consciously or subconsciously.
This accumulation of detail can be drawn on when you write fiction.
~ Rohinton Mistry
Siblings know the past
and can help chart the future.
Now, they offer love.
Even in cow dung
one can find grace and beauty.
Still, best to steer clear.
My neighbors have stopped celebrating the 4th of July!
To everyone who had fun without the benefit of explosives,
my dogs and I salute you!
This is what I saw when I exited the building after getting good news from my dentist .
I swear, it felt as if these flowers had bloomed just for me.
And I’m especially fond of this honey bee. I first tried photographing the bees and lavender plants in the backyard, but couldn’t get any good shots. Then I came out in the front and found this bee. He didn’t seem quite so busy as the dudes in back.
This guy takes time to savor the nectar.
The sun, the earth,
love, friends,
our very breath are parts of the banquet.
~ Rebecca Harding Davis
I offer these vibrant helianthemum from my front yard as an antidote to the soullessness and unabashed greed of Agent Orange and the GOP.
Remember, people: ORANGE CAN BE BEAUTIFUL AND LIFE-AFFIRMING!
Poppy downed by May hailstorm before it had a chance to bloom.
If we were to lose the ability to be emotional,
if we were to lose the ability to be angry,
to be outraged,
we would be robots.
And I refuse that.
~ Arundhati Roy
Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.
~ Theodore Roethke
This beauty is blooming in my front yard, despite the 12+ inches of wet, heavy snow that fell on the bud a week ago.
Just goes to show, you can’t keep a good flower down.
They unfurled their blooms
then snow fell like wet cement.
The iris prevailed.
Yesterday, the forecast said it would start snowing this evening. Instead, I woke to smothered flowers and shrubs in my front and back yards. I spent more than an hour outside with a broom, clearing snow from collapsed lilac bushes and apache plume shrubs. I’m probably going to lose my iris display this year. Again. And forget about the poppies.
Sigh.
The finches are handling it pretty well. We’d already called it a season and brought in the long extension cord that heats the bird bath, so that’s a bummer. I filled the dish with hot water this morning and the water has already turned slushy.
The snow’s supposed to continue through Friday and then on Saturday? This:
We’ve got tulips:
Floating in the Museumplein pool.
Growing in a mound as Tracy stands guard over them in a tiny park.
We’ve got a canal view complete with narrow buildings and houseboats:
We’ve got a bicycle built for three, complete with windshield for the tiniest rider:
And last but not least, we’ve got Stroopwafels:
Gift from Femke, our AirBnB host.
Good thing I documented them here, because these delicious morsels are going fast!
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Happiness held is the seed;
happiness shared is the flower.
~ John Harrigan
I just photographed this iris, the first to bloom in any of my gardens this year. This was also the first iris to bloom last year. I’m very happy to witness its delicate beauty again. And I’m also happy to share it here.
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Tracy Abell 