Weekly photo challenge: Green!

Vacation of a lifetime in Ireland with my sisters, niece and cousin. Six women. Two rental cars. It was breath-taking and heart-stopping, magical and amazing!

Farm fencing

This is actually the woods behind the Frost Farm in Derry, NH. This was not the inspiration for this poem. 🙂

Incredibly huge blown glass sculpture by Dale Chihuly in the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston

Giant lily pads

It’s May and it’s GREEN!

Thought I’d add a photo of a cool old tree in Roger Williams Park in Providence since I couldn’t take any photos in Isabella’s beautiful home.

A jar of pickles in the canning competition

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… that late afternoon light glowing through the last leaves still hanging.

Most trees have lost all their leaves, so those that still cling to the branches seem the most jubilant — the ones that won’t give up.

Finding this bridge of leaves over a street in Calistoga, California, was a special treat!

Weekly photo challenge: Shine (through leaves and trees)

The “shiny” negative space in this photo imitates the  leaves. That’s why I love this one.

This photo wasn’t from this fall. We had a dry summer and it seemed that the leaves were dull and boring compared to other years. I did enjoy one beautiful weekend in Connecticut with a group of friends from my hometown. We stayed at my daughter’s home for a long weekend, and the weather was perfect. We visited wineries and Newport and the beach and the casino and an apple festival. The leaves in CT were at their peak and surprised us all along Rte. 2 south of Hartford. We had a wonderful time, but it was over before I knew it. And I don’t think I thanked them enough for coming.

Wherever the road leads

 

The longer she kept walking forward, the less often she looked back.
The less often she wanted to turn around.
The less often she waited to see if anyone was coming up behind her.
She liked the sound her sneakers made on the gravel roadway.
She could hear a creek running far below.
She could see the morning steam rising off the hillside.
She knew wherever the road led would be fine.
Because she’d never been there before.

The headstones

 

How the trunk twists

and the limbs gnarl

like silent screams

above two headstones

that echo the names

of two slight lives

from long ago.

Sunflower Field

Every summer when I visit Marcus,

the last thing I do is walk in the field of sunflowers

south of town.

It reminds me of my comings and goings

and how life goes on.

The grasshoppers will be jumping,

and the dew will drench my sneakers.

I’ll track mud back to the rented car,

and that little bit of Iowa

will travel across the country

with me.

 

 

 

“Is this heaven? No, it’s Iowa”

I used to dream a lot of flying.

Not flying, really.

Soaring. Lifting right off the ground.

I could do it whenever I wanted.

Just slip free of the earth

and look down from on high.

Maybe it’s because I grew up here,

where the sky is wide

and there’s a lot of room to soar.

Or maybe it’s because

I never really felt

rooted

anywhere.

The wind was always

going somewhere.

Urging me

to come along.