Mother’s Garden

garden

Last night steady rain fell here in the garden,

flooded now with memories of my mother.

The morning sky

still hangs low with heavy clouds

but leaks pale yellow light here and there.

“Sunshine is good for the Cannas,”

I hear her say.

I wonder if she ever knew how little I cared;

how unimpressed I was at the time

with her gardening wisdom?

Nurturing her garden was my mother’s gratification

… a diversion from the unfair hand

she was dealt.

I pull weeds from a patch of Begonias

and remember her happy.

I watch ants parade through the Peonies

and remember her healthy.

I prune the Roses, deadhead the Daisies,

and tie the Clematis a little bit higher for dramatic effect;

but my efforts don’t match the beauty

of Mother’s garden.

Sunlight fades; the air is still.

I realize I’ve tended the garden all day long.

I imitate the Lilies

which have folded themselves in prayer.

“God, grant me another day,” I ask

“filled with memories of Mother’s garden.”

The Quiet Battle

cropped-img_4222-21.jpgA (3)

We left home several years ago in the wee hours of a January morning to attend a 10:00 funeral that was 3 1/2 hours away. On the drive we passed a beautiful farm where the morning fog was just beginning to lift. Last week we made the same trip for yet another funeral and we passed the farm again, but this time it was a bright summer’s day. I took both photos through the car window with my cell phone. Same farm, different season, years apart!

The following is a re-post of a story I wrote the first time I saw the farm:

THE QUIET BATTLE

Morning fog invades a lovely Kansas farm in the pre-dawn hours of a clear winter day. The fog will lie low for a spell, transforming rest into stubborn courage for the fight that looms ahead: an inevitable skirmish between Fog and Sun.

As Fog hunkers down, it blankets winter wheat and hugs the stubble of last year’s corn which lay dying in the field. It settles itself along the fence that separates the farm in stately fashion and it laces haunting fingers through the trees. It covertly surrounds the silo, the barn, the shed; and forms a luminous halo around the single light left burning to ward off possible dangers tempted to lurk in shadowed corners.

At sunrise, the battle begins. Fog is brave and refuses to yield, but the fight does not rage for long. Sun is a strong and formidable enemy. Flanked on all sides with no place to hide, Fog is swiftly defeated. Forced to surrender, a virtual white flag is waved as it retreats.

When the farm is fully bathed in golden rays, you would never suspect that a quiet battle had ever taken place here.

The Web

dew on a web

On my walk this mid-summer morning, the sun was shining just right through the trees, illuminating the silver threads of an enormous spider web and revealing the intricate artistry of the spider who built it. The web was an extravaganza of activity! On the outer edges, the spider himself was working tirelessly to expand his domain, while near the center, a small moth was attempting to free himself from the clutches of the sticky strands. The frantic flapping of wings disclosed his desperation, and it tempted me to reach in and save him. I resisted the urge to interfere with nature’s balance and kept walking. On my return, I passed the web again and noticed the moth was gone. In an effort to convince myself he was not lunch for the spider, I now imagine the moth is free and on his way to my house in search of fabric to snuggle into after his ordeal! Maybe I should buy some moth balls!

For RDP/daily word prompt: Extravaganza

Image from web search and daily.jstor.org

Foto Friday #46

2005

Lovely Lugano, Switzerland is perfectly positioned on the edge of a crystal-clear alpine lake with the Swiss Alps in its backyard. Beautiful photos in this picturesque town are easy to come by. One of my favorites, however, is not of the lake or the mountains, but of the orchids on display at an outdoor flower market in the center of town. They simply couldn’t be more exquisite!