Standing in the shade, under cover of pretty paper bark maple trees with their small green leaves and cinnamon-colored bark, softly peeling and curling yet holding on. Two tall rocks, snuggling like they’re married, meant to be together now and forever.
Here’s the backstory, from a small book of Chinese poems: “Did you know about Father Chang and old lady Cheng? They went away and no one’s heard from them since.”
“But the old people love to exaggerate.” I read that in a book this morning. And “Every occasion calls for a poem.” Here’s a good picture.
Too bad I didn’t get that picture, so here’s another one.
This side of heaven, a lone traveler on a thousand-mile journey getting his fill of ambrosia.
Just down the street there’s a patch of sprawling vines, creeping out all over a front lawn. It must be 25 or 30 feet across. I first noticed this weeks ago and wondered what it might be. The large tangle of leaves didn’t look like zucchini. Yesterday I spotted this watermelon, you couldn’t miss it. It was a looker! I walked around and found tucked away peacefully amid the mass of leaves, 10 big beauties!
Thoughts on a quiet morning. I once took a picture of a cat down there gazing up at me, carefully stepping, step by step, on the bed of polished rocks along the shallow waters of the creek. Now there’s no cat, no water, no rocks. I can’t help but wonder, is this the beginning of the end of the world?
In my prime, I loved the chase. I enjoy these simple days now, free from time—easy walks smelling the flowers, playing with paper, and composing poems as I please. Lucky old dog. 🐶
We were standing in the middle of a crowded parking lot, filled with families during last night’s special neighborhood event at the township headquarters. Her eye 👁️ was fixed on a butterfly 🦋 stationed on top of the outside mirror of a police patrol car. She kept looking and finally said, “It’s not moving. It isn’t real. It’s not real.” “It is real,” he insisted, “or possibly a drone.” He took a step closer and waved his arm—it flew off!
By the way, I looked it up and that sure looks like a Question Mark Butterfly. Another first for me.😉
If I could choose one flower to be the queen of summer, it would be Queen Anne’s Lace. Like dandelions, it grows wild in fields. It’s nothing fancy and not pricey at all. All it demands is sunshine and rain, a bit of grass and good earth under its feet and it keeps blooming and blooming all summer long. I think it’s the prettiest flower around.
The tree was small, no more than six or seven feet tall, sparsely covered with softly curving branches of long, hairy needles and just one nut or fruit hanging from it like a Christmas ball about an inch and a half in diameter, the size of a rather large walnut. It was green. I zoomed in close at the texture to see tiny fan shapes clearly embedded all around its surface. It was so pretty. I think it may have been a very young Pond Cypress tree. Finding something for the first time was intriguing, I must go back again to see how it grows.
Seasonal allergies sneeze my nose all summer long. Isn’t it pretty, not my nose, but the bottle brush grass. I don’t think it makes me sneeze. I do like the way it tickles my nose.
High noon, a tea shop on the road side. What’s your pleasure—iced or hot, sun or shade? Inside in the shade two pretty women, chattering softly, brewing teas.