PAD Day 17 – Haiku – A Bevy of Haikus

Lilac

Lilac (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Lilac blooms above
scenting the air with perfume
a moon winks his eye

Apple blossoms fall
the wind tossing pale petals
Ah spring is near gone

Apple blossoms

Apple blossoms (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Rushing creek waters
bubble and burst forth happy
a piney wind blows

Waxing Gibbous Moon

Waxing Gibbous Moon (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

The green lawn freshly cut
a sharp smell of green and new
Robins come to eat

Buzzing busy bees
go forth to buzz in flowers
the lilac sways here

Honestly, the thought of writing haikus today did not put me in a poetic mood. I go through phases where a haiku or two is on my mind. But for the most part, I have never had them capture my interest quite like CB Wentworth has been able to do. She is amazing with how she writes so many all the time. I am semi envious, other than for me, my poetic form is something else. So to each his own. I am glad that these haikus turned out so well. I was sitting out under the lilac after a walk and the almost waxing gibbous moon was visible. The smell of pines was like summer and just the way the lilacs waved overhead inspired me. Thank goodness. I was actually worried there as I was ready to put a pox on haikus.

I think walking is a great way to be inspired. If you are walking along a rushing creek with the smell of fresh mountain air blowing down on you, you get double points of inspiration. So a walk was clearly a need.

I hope others, if they are doing the PAD had luck with their haikus. I am excited to see what tomorrow’s prompt will be. It’s hard to believe it’s already the end of the 17th!

Kate

Morning in Prose – Poetry

Winter DaysI’m not awake as I wait for the coffee to perk, my dog trying to make sure I love him with head-butts nd snuffles since he is why I’m up; he knows I wanted to sleep in as we now sit crashed on a sofa, him under my old baby quilt, fast asleep and cozy while I’m bleary-eyed waiting for the only thing that makes the mornings tolerable, while outside the sun shines warm, trying to beat back the cold north wind of a blustery March day, trying to be spring as winter hangs on with sharp, clutching nails, though the violets seem oblivious to the cold as their warm, sweet scent floats up, mocking the cold.

Now the mountains are shrouded in mist and cold, a wild needle-like wind bites and sinks into the skin, and I feel like I’m back in January while the calendar says spring is moments away, or years, or just days…. Only the weather seems to know what the mornings shall bring…..

 

Just a bit of prose, I think.

Kate

Springtime, French, and Should I Write About It

English: Dirty Weather Over Hagg Wood Not quit...

English: Dirty Weather Over Hagg Wood Not quite the May weather I had in mind for my walk. From the path above Swinburn’s Park (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I set about to walk to town yesterday and it was a lovely walk, albeit a bit on the blustery side.  For some reason, I always manage to walk when the nastier weather is coming down the mountainside.  Yesterday was no exception.  Fortunately I had my cloche hat on, though it did require me pushing it down squarely several times due to a brisk wind.

As I walked, I had a selection of French music playing on my mp3 player.  There is something about spring, wind, rain and French music that just goes together. The old adage of springtime in Paris perhaps?  Whatever the reason, Zaz’s La Pluie was tres parfait for the moment.  I highly recommend the song.

As I walked I contemplated on how the weather was perfect for something to write about.  Have you ever noticed that right at the height of a season, you are so immersed in it that you must write about it?  And yes, even though it is right at the ‘first of spring’ we are smack dab in the middle of it.  Spring started back in February when just the start of things came out.  I’ve only come to this realization after reading Liza Dalby‘s East Wind Melts the Ice, which I commented on just the other day.

But seriously, when you are at the height of the season, you just want two immerse yourself in it and kind of wallow.  I feel that way in the summer when it’s hot and muggy, or when that summer storm comes through with all it’s ravaging brilliance of a thunderstorm.  The lightning and thunder, the oppressive moisture cloying the air and pressing down.  Or in autumn when the leaves swirl around you as you walk home.  The all consuming desire to wear plaid and eat apples while carrying a pumpkin home to carve.

Okay, it might be just me, but seasons, weather and nature are very important to me.  They impress upon me not unlike music.  It’s all very important to me and my writing.  So, now I have to add or write something about walking in the blustery weather, wearing a cloche hat and French music playing….. Funny thing, all but for the French music thing, I started something last year that highlighted some of that. I just never finished it.

Typical.

Signing off

~Kate

Rainy Nights In The Springtime

Here I am on a rainy spring night.  Yes, it is really finally spring.  Bing is confirming it. (I had to check)  It’s one in the morning and I just had to type something.  I should be picking a picture for Wordless Wednesday, but you are going to get two posts today.

There is something kind of magical about rain on a spring night.  The freshness.  The clean mountain air where I live.  The silence that is far from silent.  The air moves differently and you can feel the change.

Right now I’m reading Liz Dalby’s East Wind Melts the Ice.  It’s a journal mixed with cultural and historical information of Japan.  It takes the Japanese calendar and breaks it down into individual weekly essays.  It’s incredibly fun to read, though I have yet to ever finish the book despite checking it out half a dozen times from the library.  It’s one of those books that’s so good you don’t want to finish it.  Ha ha, that is a really sad excuse, but it’s actually true. I’ve shied away from finishing it.

I am drinking a tepid cup of coffee, though it was hot a bit ago (black, no sugar) and I have Penny and Sparrow’s Ten Boom album playing.  Penny and Sparrow are a new band I found after seeing a post by rainydaysandblankets a Tumblr blog.  Her blog has got to be one of my most favorite to visit.  I really should do a favorites of Tumblr’s blog post.  There are some really great blogs out there.  Anyways, Penny and Sparrow is a really amazing band of two guys.  Check them out if you can.  Quite impressive in the folk-slash-rock genre.

Well, now to see what to post for Wordless.

Signing off

~Kate

An Autumn Sort of Morning

Autumn

Image via Wikipedia

It’s a cold autumn morning, but it’s not

as crackling grasses shudder in the cold north wind

deer hunt for succulent greens

their backs turned to the biting force

only the calendar says it’s March

those grids of numbers and lines

words to trick us into believing

that warmth is just around the corner

but I’m not fooled

I know that it’s still autumn

As the cold wind blows.

Okay, well I looked out the window this morning to see deer grazing in the open pasture behind the house.  The wind was blowing a very cold draft from the north, biting and with the brown grasses blowing, it felt and looked just like autumn.  Three days ago it was a balmy early spring day, but not so much today.  It’s frigid, and cold, and I do not want to be outside. 

Enjoy!

Signing off

~Kate

Violet Sort of Girl

Today Jaclyn Rae posted a blog titled, ‘I’m a Sunflower. What are You?‘.   Now, the post didn’t really go into details about why she is a sunflower, but it got me thinking.

What kind of flower am I?

Yeah, no, this isn’t one of those whoo hoo mystically weird posts.  I don’t do that.

But……

If I could be a flower, I would be a wild violet. 

Ok, yeah, this is a johnny jump up, but I can't find my violet pictures.

Granted, that stems partly from it being my favorite flower.  It’s a shy sort of flower, but it packs a wallop in scent.  You can smell them on a warm spring day, the scent wafting up from the shady hidden depths of the lawn.  Though, for the record, they actually do much better in the sun, and sunshine makes them smell better.

I love violets.  They are usually the first sign of spring around here, though lately the wild cyclamen is fighting for that position.  Well, either way, cyclamen, violets, they are both gorgeous in the spring.  Especially after an amazingly loooooooonnnnnggggg winter.  This was one of those years.

After months of rain, snow, wind, snow, rain, fog, clouds, rain, snow, rain, oh and did I mention rain?  It’s been nice to see sun, (though that has been limited) and spring flowers.

Hepatica

Crocuses, hepatica, cyclamen, violets, blue weedy flowers that I have no idea what they are called, daffodils starting to poke their sunny heads up.  It’s about time!  I seriously thought I was going to go nuts with all the rain and snow.

Oh, here’s irony for you.  The first day of spring it snowed eight inches of snow!  Eight inches!  Puleez.  Thankfully it was practically all melted by the time 3pm rolled around.  Go figure.

Now, I am not totally complaining, oh, and I promise the ‘valley girl’ talking will end in a moment here,  but I do crave some sun occasionally.  We do need it to survive.

Someone asked me how my day was yesterday.  I think I surprised him when I beamed at him and said, “really good.  It’s sunny, and it’s always a good day if there is sun.”  I actually coaxed a smile out of this person who never  smiles.  See, so even that made it a good day.

And this post really has nothing to do with anything, but well, I needed something to write about and well, flowers are always a good thing.

Signing off

~Kate

Seasonal Changing of… the Guards

If anyone were to ask me what my favorite season is, I would instantly tell them autumn. To me there is nothing better than the smell of a crisp fall day where the leaves are turning, a breeze is blowing, wood smoke is in the air, and the sun is shining and warm. I would take it any day.

But, I have this fascination with the time right before spring starts and winter isn’t quite yet over. When it rains and the birds start coming back, yet there is nothing green to speak of. No crocuses are poking their faces above the ground. No trees are blooming. No green grass sprouting up. But you can feel that spring is just around the corner.

The clouds are different in that in between time. They are misty. They are more puffy and light, yet they can bring on a drizzle in an instant when they pass over. The scud across the sky, moving at a fast rate as the winds blow them to who knows where. They creep up over the mountains and sit there to mist and float away leaving a dusting of snow. They are quixotic, never staying long, never having any particular direction. Sometimes dissipating if the sun warms them up enough. Magical.

And the birds. That first trilling, water in a creek, sound of a meadowlark. Coming out of nowhere to sound like the happiest of songs. A laughing melodic trill that could make anyone smile. Or the completely happy chatter of the first robins coming after a rain. It is a feeling that anyone understands. Spring is coming. The birds know it. They are shouting it to the world. They are telling us.

It is in the fierce gusting strength pushing you along. Whipping and spiraling around. Making the trees bend and sway in an ancient dance. Or in a whispering warm breeze blowing up from the south, bring a sweet, fresh smell. The scent of new earth as if plants are just waiting to burst forth in glory. You can just feel it. You just know it is there, just around the corner. Waiting to shine forth in a surprising display of color and scents.

Yet, while there is that pulsing, impatient sense that everything is going to burst forth at any moment, there is still the clinging sense to winter. The woodsy smoke still issuing from fireplaces to warm our homes. That spicy smell of fallen leaves and decaying matter. The unexpected snowfall that brings back the call of Christmas and times past. A constant struggle for past and future.

I feel it now. Waiting in the wings. I know spring is going to be here in moments. I know that it is going to blaze forth bringing back old friends in the birds and happy little bees buzzing around. I eagerly await the triumph of the season. In each and every season.

So, though I love autumn in all it’s glory, the subtleness of early spring is magical. Elegant and quiet. And it’s almost here. Spring is coming.

 Signing off.

~K