- The header art is a detail from one of a series of paintings called "The Quilted Fields of Provence."
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Tag Archives: Spring
“Till summer folds her miracle…when sacrament is done” Emily Dickinson, Poem #342 Chalice after chalice opened day after day Until autumn crocus filled and faded. That holy season closed with their benediction. Blessed be the smaller celebrations of winter camellia … Continue reading
In the cold time of short days and longest nights evergreens preen proudly in wraps of needle green, while humbler trees’ branches, unclothed until spring, bear chill. Then snow in its pity shawls them with white as it quilts and … Continue reading
Spendthrift autumn dances, winds tossing the bright coin of trees in her wake. Leaves—red, golden, brown–curl dry, caught where shrubs meet earth, huddle near roots. Rain softens spent leaves. Frugal winter hoards autumn’s debris in root cellars, stocks those cold … Continue reading
I thought each plant remembered me. Each spike of spiderwort’s first blade, Each thrust of lily pushing loam, Each promise of stargazing pink and scent Piercing the friable flowerbed earth, Each potted bulb awakened, Shoving soil aside to stretch above … Continue reading
The whinny, snort and jump of spring Bolt down its elliptical track; Exuberance shakes off reins of balance in this race. Its silks, the colors of crocus, Lift its weightless rider, Press lightly against eager flanks, Which, whipped by wind, … Continue reading