It’s Spring–Or Is It? Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge

Photo: Tomas Sobek via Flickr–labeled for non-commercial reuse.

It’s Spring—Or Is It?

The first year after we moved to Reno, my sister sent me a gardener’s diary. A thoughtful gift-giver, she knew of my newly born enthusiasm for the garden that we were able to plant in our large yard. Each week I dutifully entered notes: what we planted, sowed and dead-headed, the weeds we battled, the heights of the tomato plants and their yield, the weather conditions, what fared well, what needed more light or water, what didn’t make it. This journal offered us the surety that the following year we would know exactly what to do when spring first showed her colors.

The second year, I abandoned the diary. The slopes were open to skiers on the Fourth of July; tomatoes planted after the last snow on Peavine wilted; blossoms froze on the Stella cherry tree,which subsequently gave no fruit and the sweet peas and jasmine didn’t have a chance. Spring and each season that follows is a new experience every year. We have grown to love the adventure of extreme gardening.

Snow covers Peavine
Morning sun bronzes her slopes
Spring cowers behind clouds

Linked to Frank Tassone’s Haikai Challenge. Peavine Mountain is just northwest of Reno. Local lore has it that you don’t want to plant your tomato seedlings outside until the snow is off of Peavine.

Mud Pies–dVerse Poetics

Image: Pinterest

Mud Pies

When we were young, two little ones at play,
our families thought that we belonged together,
so sweet, like milk and honey.

Sticks were our bows and arrows, then
Look closely. See that scar you gave me,
reminders of a rough-house game of kick-the-can.

When we played house (you acquiesced),
“That’s not a game for boys,” you said,
so I said nothing when you fed mud pies .
to my beloved, fair-haired doll.

Now, in my garden, thoughts of you swirl in the loam
—the scents of clay, the grainy texture of dank earth.
No longer play, but poignant memories tinged
with just a hint of sadness, just a hint of wondering

what might have been, had you not died so young?

I’m tripping back sixty-some years to a time when, living in a rural area, my only neighbor was a boy, a year or two my senior. We played together in the wild outdoors. He made a tomboy of me and I tried to domesticate him. I would be writing an epic poem if I tried to recount all our exploits.

I recall so well, after we had moved away, one evening during dinner (we were eating chop suey) the phone rang and I learned that my dear playmate, at the time only about 13 years old, had been crushed to death when he and a buddy had climbed a fence and tried to ride an oil well.

Please join us at dVerse Poetics where Bjorn invites us to play with words and dirt.

Nature’s Nurturer

Photo: V. Slotto
David’s veggie garden last year

Nature’s Nurturer

It begins toward the middle of March, while we are still in snowbird-land. He drags out the bag of potting soil, his seed-starting paraphernalia and tiny heirloom seeds he’s ordered from catalogue. I cringe, knowing what I will face in the kitchen when the sowing is done.

That’s the shower in the guest room becomes a greenhouse, with the help of sunlight from the Solartube™ and a grow light. Several times a day, I find him there on hands and knees, watering, fertilizing and watching. It takes only few days till he beckons me to come and see tiny sprouts, emerging from the moist soil. In a few weeks, the first transplant occurs, giving them room for roots to emerge. Within a month, another transplant and then shorts spurts of outdoor acclimation and desert sunshine.

By the first week of May, our migration north sees the passenger seat of his car sporting plants that are already 2-4 feet tall. I follow him in my larger vehicle, the dogs sleeping in their crate in the back, waiting for him to be pulled over on suspicion of transporting pot. Upon arrival in Reno, sub-zero weather at nighttime prevails, so the routine of acclimatizing begins anew. As soon as the snow is “off of Peavine,” as Reno wisdom dictates, they are placed in their newly mulched and soil-amended raised flower bed. Going forward the day begins with watering and attentive care until at last

water, summer sun
engender fruit of labor
harvesting begins

Gayle is our hostess today for dVerse Open Link Night where we can post a poem of any topic and form.

Photo: D. Slotto

Photo: V.Slotto

Surrendur–dVerse Haibun Monday

Photo: popsci.com Labeled for noncommercial reuse.

Surrender

“When he fixed the foundations of the earth,
then was I beside him as artisan;
I was his delight day by day,
playing before him all the while.”

Proverbs 8: 29-30

In 2008, we returned home from the Southern California desert with rattled nerves, having experienced a 7.3 earthquake centered not far from us. Our expectation of relief shattered immediately. Reno was experiencing swarms of temblors, upward of 100 daily. True, they were not that large on the Richter scale, but because they were caused, most likely, by excavation of the foothills for yet another residential development, they were quite shallow and the effect on our multi-level home was that of a truck slamming into its façade. Jumpy, tense, frightened, edgy—so many adjectives to describe our state of being.

It was to Mother Earth, to nature, that I fled—discovering solace in her damp spring soil. Touching timelessness in her body, listening to the songs of birds, the humming of bees, inhaling surrender in the loveliness of lilacs and roses. Nature trusted that all would be well because creation was in the care of its Creator. Today, when those smaller emotional or spiritual earthquakes disrupt my well-being, it’s in the garden or walking the dogs along the river that I find harmony, as well as the source of my own creative energy.

Mockingbird utters
songs of trust that have no words—
earth’s sweet harmony.

Please join us at dVerse for Haibun Monday where we are sharing those things that give us serenity.

july wonder–dVerse Poetics

july wonder

as gentle rain slacks the thirst
of our faltering ash tree,
so does your touch bring joy to my heart.

this morning I watch from the kitchen window
as you nurture your garden.
wind chimes laugh. life abounds.

Posted for dVerse Poetics where we are celebrating our 4th Anniversary. My words: gentle, tree, joy, nurture, laugh, life. Please join us! The doors open at 12:00 PM EDT.

Photo: V. Slotto
The gardener with last years tomatoes and Sparky.

rumor has it that the honey bee population is in decline

rumor has it that the honey bee population is in decline

a palindrome

Photo: ars.usda.gov

the bees and i share stories
as we flirt with pink primrose blooms.
we tease lavender—fragrant and seductive.
(gardening comes easy in the company of friends.)
today, the bees are abuzz.

today, the bees are abuzz.
(gardening comes easy in the company of friends.)
we tease lavender—fragrant and seductive
as we flirt with pink primrose blooms.
the bees and i share stories.

Thanks to Mary over at dVerse Meeting the Bar for sharing this fun form–a palindrome or mirror poem. You will notice that the second stanza is the reverse of the first. Try one of your own and join us at the pub!

the great wheel of growth

Photo: V. Slotto

the great wheel of growth

on my knees, praying that great prayer of creation,
i turn dark, dank soil, inhale earth’s sweet-pungent scent,
pluck spent blooms to make way for new growth
and wrestle weeds.

around me, colors explode—buds unfurl.
a lady bug emerges from the depths of a peony
while bees delight, dance with lavender.

there it is (in the sacred sanctuary of my garden)
that peace enfolds me.

The title is a line in Mary Oliver’s Poem “Stanley Kunitz” published in “Dream Work,” 1986.

Shared today with dVerse Poetics. Today’s prompt is to write about our daily life. Since returning from the desert, I’ve been spending much time in my garden–hard, but fulfilling work.

Saturday Garden–dVerse Open Link Night

Photo: Victoria Slotto

We work in the yard
morning to eve. Savoring,
touching, smelling spring.

Earth, moist and ready
welcomes her lover’s caress,
encloses his seed.

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Vegetable seedlings,
started inside months ago,
finally at home.

Photo: Victoria Slotto

Colorful roses,
flagrantly fragrant perfume,
tantalizes, tempts.

The Holiday’s past,
thoughts of young lives lost in war—
memories linger.

Resting on the deck,
we enjoy a gentle breeze
and one another.

May this explain why I’m so late at showing up at the pub with my “photo-haiku montage” for Open Link Night, hosted by Mary. There’s still time. Stop by, read and add a poem of your own! 

Spring Muse

Spring Muse
in response to the July Challenge offered by Blaga at http://brokensparkles.wordpress.com/  for which we are asked to showcase our favorites for each season of the year.

This QUOTE by Canadian author Margaret Atwood reminds me that one of the joys of Spring reentering the world of gardening—close to the Earth Mother we watch new life emerge in an array of color.

In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt. ~Margaret Atwood

Out of so many POEMS inspired by Spring, I chose this one by Katherine Mansfield because of her descriptions and personifications.

Very Early Spring
by Katherine Mansfield

The fields are snowbound no longer;
There are little blue lakes and flags of tenderest green.
The snow has been caught up into the sky–
So many white clouds–and the blue of the sky is cold.
Now the sun walks in the forest,
He touches the bows and stems with his golden fingers;
They shiver, and wake from slumber.
Over the barren branches he shakes his yellow curls.
Yet is the forest full of the sound of tears….
A wind dances over the fields.
Shrill and clear the sound of her waking laughter,
Yet the little blue lakes tremble
And the flags of tenderest green bend and quiver.

My husband and I love to watch classic MOVIES. Singing in the Rain, featuring the song and dance of Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds is one of our favorites. To me, the WORD rebirth sums up the spirit of the season. These two favorites joined to inspire this haiku.

Singing in the Rain
celebrate rebirth with joy
song dance love stories.

I turn to nature to find my favorite SONG and it is that of birds: mockingbirds, tanagers, mourning doves, all varieties of song birds. Another haiku:

Mockingbird rejoice
sun’s gentle rays awaken
greet morning with song.

I can’t resist an opportunity to promote my upcoming BOOK, Winter is Past, that celebrates hope and joy that follows a season of loss.

Chilling winter winds
give way to hope and new life
when Winter is Past.

There are so many ANIMALS that return from warmer climates, that waken after a winter hibernation, or give birth to their young during spring. Out of these, I have chosen the lamb. One year I was making an eight-day silent retreat in Greensburg, Pennsylvania, in a monastery planted in the heart of farm country. This is what happened:

On rolling hillsides
pregnant ewes give birth to lambs
dabs of white on green.

I’ve lived in many places and each TOWN, or city or rural area has their own beauty during Spring. I could write about Paris’ enchantment, Richmond’s (Virginia) azaleas, Washington D.C.’s cherry blossoms, Michigan’s tulips or Reno’s fickle spring that, some years, lasts only a few days. What I’ve come to realize is that my favorite place to be in spring is wherever I happen to be.

Stay in the moment
spring offers beauty to you
wherever you are.

In my tradition, spring is the season in which we celebrate Easter…a feast of rebirth, new life, resurrection. After the deprivation of Lent, the penitential season the helps one to prepare for this day, everyone looks forward to their favorite FOODS. For many, that’s candy.

Celebrate Easter
choc’late eggs and jelly beans
savoring sweetness.

One of my greatest joys is to see FLOWERS begin to blossom or break through the frozen soil. Among my favorite are tulips in all their many colors.

Break out of hiding
in an array of color
paint our world in joy

How can anyone summarize spring in a single IMAGE?

Feast for our senses
Sun returns to warm spirits
invites us outdoors.

Monday Morning Writing Prompt–Gardening

Image by uBookworm via Flickr

For many of us, as summer arrives, it’s time to garden. Weeding, pruning roses, planting a vegetable garden, planting annuals–then sitting back and enjoying the work of our hands–these activities occupy our leisure time. Those of you in other parts of the world are experiencing the end of the growing season. For some, planters or houseplants may be the extent of your involvement with growing things. Whatever your gardening experience–planting or putting to bed for winter–let’s write a gardening poem, essay or short story.

In my experience, working the land offers plenty of fodder to my creative muse. Rich in metaphor and opportunities for description, gardening does inspire.

I hope this prompt will be fun for you and that you will share your work by submitting your link in the comments of this post. Invite someone else to join us, if you will.

Here’s mine:

Skeletal Remains 

Clearing out dead leaves,

I unearth a pattern of life—

lace-knit frames for grace.