There is no question that we are galloping towards summer. Cold nights are coming to an end and lately, days have been hot and dry. It was a tumultuous early spring for my partner and I. We both had health issues that kept us indoors. Meanwhile buds were bursting and grass was growing high. Some areas of the yard needed to be trimmed so we could walk the dogs and navigate around the house and vegetable gardens. When I was finally able to work outside, I had to accept that spring was in the lead.
wading through long grass
on the way to the kale patch
leaves flaunting wild abundance
thistles nestling in sweet greens
I learned about how to look after a yard from my father. I watched him trim hedges, regularly mow and rake grass, trim cedar hedges, plant pansies purchased at the May Fair, turn on the sprinkler. The result was an orderly lawn on a small city lot. Now, a country field surrounds my house. It teaches me to question convention…to let go and appreciate natural rhythms, both wild and orderly. Every year I discover new plants and see new waves of growth….this year, fields of yellow dandelions preceded dazzling white daisies trimmed with red clover.
emerge in fields of colour
dVerse Poets Pub Haibun Monday—Complexity of Freedom
Today Ontario woke up to a new majority government. Sad news for those of us who care about social and environmental issues. The new Premier has been compared to the current President of the United States. Time will tell.
No sparkle today
a Conservative landslide
fireworks to come
a bird flying with fledglings
Photo credit: Pixabay. com
“I’d rather be a sparrow than a snail”–lyrics I’ve known since a long time ago when music was on vinyl LPs…when Simon & Garfunkel wrote a song called “El Cóndor Pasa”…when they didn’t know the music was not a folk song but was part of a musical play composed in 1913 by Daniel Alomía Robles of Peru.
The Cóndor has been passing over the world for over 100 years inspiring hundreds of lyrics and arrangements…in Peru it’s a beloved national song and now as I listen to the melody wings open wide to surf the Andean winds.
broad wings soaring
condor of mountain ranges
vast canyons your home
Carpe Diem #1443: Music to close our journey
I wake up to a rushing sound. ‘It’s raining’ percolates my sleeping mind with a splash of pleasure… a break from hot sunny days will be pleasant…after all, it’s spring. The seeds I will plant prefer cool soft breezes over sultry winds. I sit up…golden light flickers behind the blind…the rotating fan purrs like rain.
sweat streams down my face
where is spring?
Heeding Haiku with Chèvrefeuille May 30, 2018, Sunny Days
The photo is from Pixabay.com.
I am not a mountain dweller… my everyday world is flat with an occasional hill or rocky climb…but I have seen and felt mountains.
It was September 13, 2001. Our flight was booked and my sister was getting married 2100 miles away on the west coast of Canada. Airports had just reopened after the 911 attacks and air travel felt risky but we were not willing to be intimidated. We would not call off our plans…through grey clouds our jet climbed to the stratosphere.
My memory shifts to mountains I’ve seen on Vancouver Island and in Jamaica…narrow winding roads hugging cliff edges, eyes glued to the road steering a rental car…or hands gripping seats in an old bus hurtling at breakneck speed while we pray for no head-on collision on a thoroughfare barely as wide as the bus.
air is thinning
sheer cliff one foot away
climbing a mountain
I inhale deeper
trusting the one at the wheel
This month’s theme at Carpe Diem HaikuKai has been a Journey into the Andes. The May 28 episode (#1441) features a video ‘Music of the Andes’. The images of narrow mountain roads in the video remind me of my similar experiences. The music is from the album ‘Flutes des Andes’ performed by Alpamayo:
murky feelings in a hand-me-down shirt linger as last remnants…there but not there…silenced by practicality and a reluctance to discard…the hand-me-down stays much longer than it should…until I vow to keep essentials only and clothes that whisper joy…I give the shirt away and soon a new top comes bearing longer sleeves and a length that drapes my hips with comfort…and the murky shirt feelings? they fly away like dust in the wind.
creating new inner space