Oh! Coleus of majestic colors of red, yellow, and green, standing tall among the pansies and petunias.
The pine New Hampshire mountains, as a back drop, gives the admirer a reflection in the mind. Colorful fantasies even to the blind.
black and white is stark
rainbows from dark clouds bend light
This time, just before dusk, I’ve noticed, on several occasions, a black butterfly. The only reason I notice it, she flutters around the sunflowers, never touching them, and just as quickly, I notice her whizzing by my ear as she flies away. “Sleep tight” I’ve heard.
Now, what the hell is that all about? As I said my prayers.
Loneliness has been good company. It has allowed me to play solitaire with joy and frustration. And eventually urges me to water the plants, for better company.
Old man in the field
Tall grass welcomes summer breeze
Car honks going by
June 15th. 2020 QUAR
Social Distancing to save lives seems to be reasonable:
People seem to be gathering in a lightning storm without being grounded. I saw a bunch of them lined up to get an ice cream cone carrying bottled water. Holy shit! Watch out for the lightning.
Traffic was buzzing as I was leaving off the coast of Rye as I exhale coastal air; heading back to the mountains of Sandwich NH to inhale the rivers, ponds, and lakes. It is different “air”, but here in New Hampshire, neither would exist without the other.
I didn’t speedup, nor had to use my brakes too often, on my way home.
life is in color
each one has its own nature
mindful in the eye
June 16th 2020 QUAR
Father’s day is looming in between the sun and clouds. Each day, as I remember, was a celebration of love and birth.
Life is ongoing
Breaks the ground for a new born
Blooming where planted
I set out to explore an overgrown garden that a previous tenant had started. It still is a beautiful space that someone had lovingly taken care of. Flowers pop up any where they want- in between the tall grass and other nomadic residents.
I put on tick and mosquito repellent then sat down re-thinking my reason for wanting to walk in there. Starring into the old overgrown garden, I saw a path that seem to be inviting me. I got up and walked though it not disturbing anything.
Thursdays have always seemed to be quite days for me. yet on Fridays, I groom and saddle the horse… and ride her into Monday; tired and happy I walk in with a smile, saddle sore, bow legged, and never wearing spurs.
owl sees at night
daytime sees quick moving grass
best of days are here
June 12th. 2020
I went to the coast today to help an old, self-quarantined friend, Miss Holly. Before heading off from the mountains, I texted her a note. Asking her to text me and let me know what she needed; I would pick it up on my way there. Please text me the list, because I may forget what you have said over your speaker phone; while you were watching the jewelry channel. 😊
The first text listed four items. The second text added another five. The last text included provisions for a bunker and don’t forget toilet paper.
No problem. When I arrived, she sprayed all the bags with disinfectant. I could hear “thru her deep suit diving mask” saying a loud “thank you” and bowing with grace, “ be safe”.
She couldn’t see the smile behind my mask; so I winked at her and told her “I would see you next week. I’ll call and check on you during the week”.
June 13th. 2020
Miss Holly, has sold her house and has moved into a “senior village”. As usual she’s a little paranoid of people spaced within 300 feet or less of her property. She feels safe there but she still locks her door.
After I run her errands, from groceries to printer ink, to medication, and to the next town for a scooter battery…( that was impossible to replace, having sat there for 2 years melted to the casing). I would sit, as I usually do, a little tired and smiling, on Miss Holly’s porch. I open a bottle of beer, lite a cigarette and take out my notebook and given the space to write, enjoying where I am.
I’ll often look up to see strolling villagers. I think there’s about a hundred of them; widowers, widows, old couples and friends. Not all stroll by, but those that do wave and we exchange our gratitude for the day.
The butterflies were flying around the flowers and blooming blackberry bushes. Fluttering about in scenes of frenzy before they landed on one of them; wings upright and still.
With their bright colors in the noon day sun, they enjoy their nectar for lunch. Then, they flutter away; wings never stopping, across the grass and flirting with the branches of the trees. But, they never go to the top of them, with no such dreams.
nature is alive
productive and on purpose
enjoy who you are
regardless of all my perfections and ignorance, I still seek redemption, in my Sacred nature.
I’ve been washing dishes since I was twelve years old. Sometimes wiping, sometimes scrubbing, and once in a while soaking. Which brings me to my current state of six spoons, four forks, and three knives. And an assorted accouterments that rattle and roll freely every time I open and close the drawer.
To make a long story short, at seventy-four, I use one spoon a day. Then on the seventh day I have to do the dishes. I rinse one out for the day’s coffee, having run out of spoons and noticing the mess it has created during the week before, I throw it back into the suds; and begin my day of service.