Category Archives: Seasonal

Walking With Joy

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What a significance wild flowers have, more than the tamed productions of the garden! They seem Heaven’s own messengers sent straight to man to bear glad tidings of universal and undying love. ~Henry James Slack, English journalist, activist, and science writer

A

Fence line

Adorned by

Dancing flowers —

Pink, yellow, and blue —

Can’t help but make me smile

As I take my daily walk.

So much color! So much beauty!

I wonder if the homeowner knew

His patch of posies would bring so much joy?

Note: Poetry form is Etheree.

RIP, My Tiny Friend

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All stories end in death, and he is no true storyteller who would keep that from you. ~Ernest Hemingway, American journalist, novelist, and short story writer

You

Were so

Tiny that

I didn’t think

You’d ever get big.

Yet a Pandemic tree

Had nothing to do but grow.

And over these past five years you

Did exactly that! Each year saw you

Get taller and fuller and healthier.

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While I hated to do it, I had to

Have you cut down so others could live.

Sacrifice is never easy

And I thank you, Tiny Tree,

For your superb service.

I’ll miss you, you know,

But you’ll live on

In photos

And my

Heart

Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree.

Ladybug (Ladybird)

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Let your imagination… fly like the lady-bird, “north, south, and east, and west,” but take care that it always comes home to rest. ~Robert Southey (1774–1843), English poet

Once there was a ladybug
A-sittin’ on a tree
Chomping on her dinner
Never minding me.

Ladybugs eat insects
And are considered “good”
So I let her feast unbothered
As she likely hoped I would.

But why are males and females
Called “lady”bugs, I croak?
They’re named for Our Lady, Mary,
In art, wearing a red cloak.

Note: This is some sort of rhyming verse, as best as I can tell. I’m open to learning more, if anybody wants to educate me!

Mother’s Day 2025

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Mother, have you ever thought, dear,
That some day our lives must part,
And the fated one must linger—
Linger here with broken heart?
~W. Dayton Wegefarth (1885–1973), American writer

When my neighbor moved in next door, she transplanted some luscious phlox to the fence line in our backyards.

But apparently, phlox doesn’t recognize a barrier, and it’s spread onto my side of the fence. Not that I’m complaining!

I think it’s delightful how this plant is sharing its beauty with both of us.

In fact, I like to think of it as my late mom’s doing. She tried, but never could get phlox to grow when she was on earth; now that she’s in Heaven, I’ll just bet she’s smiling!

Note: Happy Mother’s Day, everyone!

 

Storm Cleanup Time

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For the man sound in body and serene of mind there is no such thing as bad weather; every sky has its beauty, and storms which whip the blood do but make it pulse more vigorously. ~George Gissing (English novelist), “Winter,” The Private Papers of Henry Ryecroft, 1903

It’s been kind of a rough spring here thus far.

We’ve run the gamut: high winds, thunder, lightning, heavy rain, and even tornadoes share the docket with practically perfect sunshine and calm. And the temperatures? If nothing else, Illinois in spring is erratic, ranging from the 40s to the 70s by day and the 20s to 50-ish by night.

But you’d like to see pictures, wouldn’t you? Okay, here goes:

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Greening and Pinking

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To this day, color is an enormous delight to me. It means experience, adventure of all kinds. ~Harry Behn, American screenwriter

When

You walk

With a dog

Outside in Spring,

You can’t help but see

That the world around us

Is greening and turning pink,

As new life bursts into color,

Trees shed their spent flowers, and sidewalks

Become magical pathways of beauty.

Note: Poetry form is Etheree.

Silent (Easter) Sunday

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The return of springtime always brings with it naturally a revival of the sweetest hopes and deepest joys of human nature. The heart of man in springtime is naturally joyous; all nature rejoices around him, and he cannot but participate in the general anthem of thanksgiving, and unite his voice with the universal pæan of praise. ~W. J. Colville, English medium, lecturer, author, 1886

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Happy Easter! Can you stand five more photos of Spring? I’ve turned off comments so you can enjoy without having to work too hard!

Looking for Spring 2025

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The first day of spring is one thing, and the first spring day is another. The difference between them is sometimes as great as a month. ~Henry Van Dyke, American author, educator, and clergyman

I can’t speak for everyone, but it seems to me that Central Illinois is weather-weary.

Tired of gray days and cold temperatures. Bored by day after day of rain and thunderstorms. Frustrated at the capriciousness of Mother Nature.

Still, on the one pretty day we’ve had since, oh, I don’t know, February or so, the Monk and I managed to get outdoors and look for signs that Spring is on the horizon.

Take a look at what we found!

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What’s Up, Buttercup?

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No man has a heart pure enough to interpret the freshness of flowers. ~Auguste Rodin, French sculptor

A

Pretty

Yellow gold

Bulb was blooming

Beneath a large tree

Waiting to be admired

By me and Monk on our walk.

After appreciating it

And checking my plant app for ID,

I learned its name is Winter Aconite.

 

Native to Europe’s woodlands and meadows,

Part of the buttercup family,

One of Spring’s earliest bloomers,

Winter Aconite attracts

Pollinators, but is

Poisonous to man

And pets, so look,

But don’t touch

It at

All!

Note: Poetry form is Double Etheree.

Frequent Visitor

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The robins were singing vespers in the high tree-tops, filling the golden air with their jubilant voices. ~L. M. Montgomery, Canadian author, Anne of the Island, 1915

An inquisitive
Bird sitting in a tree
Can sometimes seem
Dreamily calm
Even as it’s obviously
Fraught with tension
Giving an observer
Half a chance to wonder
If it is even thinking at all.
Just so, the bird and I are
Kindred spirits
Loving the outdoors
Making music at will
Noticing whatever moves
Oh, how wonderful it must be
Perhaps for a day or more
Quietly flitting from tree to tree
Round about the yard
Settling high in the branches
Taking notice and being noticed
Under the bright sunshine
Volume turned up
With eyes wide open
X-ray vision
You can’t help but admire
Zealous living.

Note: Poetry form is A-B-C Poem.