Post 7 : A Haiku A Day

Sweet summer roses

Spicy warm and full of life

Let me walk with you


The chill of the day, and the lack of feeling very chipper made me need something summery.  Roses fit the bill.  My rose, showcased in the picture, is Playboy.  One of the sweetest smelling roses I know, without all that cloying annoying scents you can sometimes get.  A nice old fashioned rose.

Signing off



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.


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.


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


Hazy Shade of Summer

We sat there in the sun, my sister and I, baking, warming from an altogether freezing dip in the pool.  Though 73 is far from cold, it was a shock to our systems.  Rugburn, my dachshund, crashes in the sun, drying from his unwanted swim in the pool.  He rubs his face dry in the long grass.  Scratching, Rubbing. Rolling.  A lazy, contented daze crosses his face as he stares at a floating hover fly a few from him.
The sun has that September feel to it.  Burning, but subtly different from the blazing, burn of July.  More hazy.  I feel the heat from it, warming my back.  A warm breeze blows down from the mountain, bringing the sweet resinous scent of pines that have baked all day in the sun.  Warm sweetness of dried grasses intertwine with dry dusty earth.  A brush of sweet smoke.  A faint flavor of cow manure graces the breeze.  Not unpleasant.

The lawn is weedy again.  With plantain seed heads and wide-bladed meadow grass that grows three times faster than the soft mountain grass.  It needs to be mowed, but then it will lose it’s last summer feel to revert back to the clipped neatness of full on summer.

Sunflowers are heavy with seeds, though the golden disks are still blooming wildly at the top of ten foot spires.  The trees are heavy with winded seeds.  Rustling gently in the wind.  There is a lazy feel to everything as flies buzz restlessly.  The yarrow has gone to seed.  Weedy heads like too tall trees sway slightly.  Stellars jays chatter raucously  as they fly over.   Landing to call from a tree.

Tomatoes are ripening.  Bright red globes of juicy sweetness.  Sweet berries hidden in cane patches demand munching.  Grapes hang from spiraled vines.  Warm and sweet with juice.  Golden hard squashes ripen on vigorous growing vines.  Consuming flat ground, seeking purchase.

I watched a dragonfly zip by a wheelbarrow before landing for a moment.  Rusty brown with etherial wings.  He buzzed off in a hurry, to who knows where.

This weather demands pitchers of iced tea and good books to be read on a porch swing.  Naps to be taken in a hammock.  Endless games of croquet to be played leisurely.

Signing off



I was just feeling like some free verse.  Nothing spectacular. Not even great, but well, a feeling I was having.


A path winding

Leading to a place

Cool, shady, hidden

Ferns so high

Reach the sky

Trickling waters

Flash of jeweled feathers

Birds dipping by

Golden sunlight shining

Crystal light

Warmth flowing in

Feeling the serenity

Of the moment

Breathing so deeply

Filling oneself with






Signing off