A Joy Forever

“A thing of beauty is a joy forever” — John Keats.

I used to love to walk through the downtown of my little city, until elected officials decided to call it a “village” but instead ruin it by filling it with boxes of ugly square buildings and a lot more places for people to get nasty drunk.

There’s no longer any charm; the atmosphere is entirely UNvillage-like, actually about as far away from being a “village” as you could possibly get.

I usually stay away but yesterday I found myself in the area and stopped at a little consignment shop, not the same one where I once scored AUTHENTIC Louis Vuitton and Dior scarves in the same day, but one with housewares and touristy stuff.

That’s where i fell in love with this beautiful work of art in the form of a pitcher and HAD to bring it home with me.

She needed a special photo shoot to properly reveal the iridescent green and gold, so I brought her out to the garden to soak up a few rays.

Have you ever seen anything more charming and ENCHANTED? I think not.

There’s no maker mark so it’s not valuable to anyone but me, but I love pretty things and this pitcher will definitely be on display in all of her glory. I’m burying the lede here, but in case you’re wondering, it cost $8.00.That’s it. EIGHT DOLLARS.

A thing of beauty is absolutely a joy forever.

Inner Child ⭐ Love

“It doesn’t matter how old you are, there is a little child within who needs love and acceptance.”- Louise Hay

Do you still wish upon a star? I do, because my own inner child is blissfully naive and unsophisticated.

Star light, star bright,
First star I see tonight,
I wish I may, I wish I might,
Have this wish I wish tonight.⭐

I wrote a letter
To my inner child
And, I told her
How loved she was by me
And, if no one else
Ever told her so
She knew
How loved she was, by me

And when
We grow up
We must never forget
That hidden, down deep
Within us
Is our forever inner child
Resting, silently within us
Forever waiting
Forever hoping
That one day
We shall
Remember it

And, if a star shall fall
Down upon the ground
Why, I shall pick her up
For she longed to be found
I shall hold her forever
Forever in my heart
Knowing that we shall never
Ever again, be apart

By Athey Thompson from A little Pocket Book of Poems

Miles To Go…

From the deepest, darkest part of the ocean to where I feel more at home, following a path on terra firma…

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,   
But I have promises to keep,   
And miles to go before I sleep,   
And miles to go before I sleep.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening — Robert Frost
Artist Micell A. via Pinterest

Summer Solstice 2023

Happy first day of summer and the longest day of the year!

Until recently, I hadn’t known about the practice of celebrating Litha during Midsummer. Litha is a pagan holiday, a time of light, purification, and healing; to reflect on the light and dark within us and the world.

It’s time to appreciate everything we have in our lives and to be grateful for nature and all that she provides.

Pick some flowers to honor the season or build a fire or light a candle. A fire lit on Litha is said to be very powerful and magical.

“Write down your hopes and dreams and burn them in the fire, to do this on Litha night will bring you your desire.”

The Sun

Have you ever seen
anything
in your life
more wonderful

than the way the sun,
every evening,
relaxed and easy,
floats toward the horizon

and into the clouds or the hills,
or the rumpled sea,
and is gone–
and how it slides again

out of the blackness,
every morning,
on the other side of the world,
like a red flower

streaming upward on its heavenly oils,
say, on a morning in early summer,
at its perfect imperial distance–
and have you ever felt for anything
such wild love–
do you think there is anywhere, in any language,
a word billowing enough
for the pleasure

that fills you,
as the sun
reaches out,
as it warms you

as you stand there,
empty-handed–
or have you too
turned from this world–

or have you too
gone crazy
for power,
for things?
– Mary Oliver

Salute The Red Admiral

I’m so excited! This is the first time I’ve ever seen a Red Admiral butterfly. I had installed a solar powered fountain in the pond only minutes before when this little guy came to visit and take a drink. After that, he spread his wings on the sun warmed rocks and I was able to get a good look.

I hope he hangs around for a while…I’ll try to capture better photos if I see him again.

The Red Admiral (Vanessa atalanta) has much more black than the Monarch. It has a black upper forewing with a bright, diagonal red-orange band across it and spots of white on the tips. It also has a red marginal band on its hindwing and the underside is a mottled brown. 

I found a poem about this butterfly and had to share. I wasn’t able to learn a lot about the poet, David Wood, but I certainly do like his poems!

Sonnet 68: Red Admiral

Patrolling small stretches of the hedgerow
Like a silent sentry on guard duty,
Other butterflies they will overthrow;
The Red Admiral, nature’s real beauty.

Seen fluttering throughout summers hot days
From buddleia to Michaelmas daisies,
And sheltering from the suns golden rays,
All the people will sing of their praises.

But they cannot survive the winter’s cold
Their life is all too brief, a crying shame:
Alas none of them will ever grow old
Their short life is all part of nature’s game.

Their beauty we cannot take for granted
For they are delicately enchanted.

Strawberry Full Moon’s Penumbral Thoughts

| Penumbra: a shadowy, indefinite, or marginal area |

I sent you a present last night you know
Though it didn’t address you by name
It was all of those meteors showering, dancing
And falling to earth like the rain

I wrote you a letter last week you know
But it won’t have arrived in the post
I wrote on the bright coloured curves of a rainbow
The reasons I missed you the most

I sent you a message just yesterday
But it wasn’t a message in words
For I spoke to the wind and I taught her our song
And I asked her to make sure you heard

I drew you a picture last Tuesday
But you may not have noticed it there
For I drew round the clouds with the rays of the sun
So they glowed as they hung in the air

No, you may not get gifts like you used to
Or get messages stored on your phone
But I’ll make sure I’m sending something each day
So you know that you’re never alone

And tomorrow I’ll paint something wonderful
I don’t know quite yet what it will be
But I promise you’ll know when you see it
That it’s sent just to you

Love from me
Xxx

From When I Am Gone – Becky Hemsley

Fuchsia Fairy

DIL asked for suggestions about flowers for a hanging basket near their front door.

When I replied that I thought a fuchsia would be pretty, she snortlaughed and said,
“Ring-ring-ring, 1980s calling, Grandma!”

I had never before thought that a purple-pink fuchsia dated me as being OLD, haha. It was a great joke…UNTIL she saw mine, asked what it was, and I was able to identify this amazing creation as a…fuchsia!

So NOW who’s laughing?

How could anyone not love this delicate ballerina of a flower?

Flower fairy and poem credit to https://flowerfairies.com/

Fuchsia is a dancer
Dancing on her toes,
Clad in red and purple,
By a cottage wall;
Sometimes in a greenhouse,
In frilly white and rose,
Dressed in her best for the fairies’ evening ball!

Symphony in Yellow

Symphony in Yellow

An omnibus across the bridge
Crawls like a yellow butterfly
And, here and there, a passer-by
Shows like a little restless midge.

Big barges full of yellow hay
Are moored against the shadowy wharf,
And, like a yellow silken scarf,
The thick fog hangs along the quay.

The yellow leaves begin to fade
And flutter from the Temple elms,
And at my feet the pale green Thames
Lies like a rod of rippled jade.
–Oscar Wilde

This Bush Poppy (Dendromecon rigida) is a California native shrub. It’s a tough and beautiful plant but only if planted in the right conditions. The Bush Poppy thrives on rocky clay slopes with excellent draining. If planted in sandier soils, it can handle supplementary water up to once a month. Prefers full sun. Flowers are beautiful, as are the long, thin, blue-green leaves.

Look at this lemony yellow azalea. I didn’t even know they came in yellow until I used the info app on my phone to identify this gorgeous girl. I think it’s actually called Rhododendron ‘Lemon Lights’.

Dance of the May Queen

Elaine Bayley Illustrations

This is the last day of April. Tomorrow we celebrate Beltane and May Day, and while we can weave flowers in our hair and dance around the maypole, it’s also also called Workers’ Day or International Workers’ Day, to commemorate the struggles and gains made by workers and the labor movement. 

May Day is a far cry away from the international call of distress, mayday. I always wondered where that term emanated from. For some reason, SOS didn’t work, so it seems as if mayday was attributed to Frederick Stanley Mockford, a senior radio officer in the RAF. In 1927, the United States formally adopted it as an official radiotelegraph distress signal, explaining that mayday corresponds “to the French pronunciation of the expression m’aider.” It’s simple meaning in English is “help me.”

Beltane is a Celtic annual festival to signify the return of the light.

Whether you light bonfires, decorate your homes with May flowers, or make May bushes, have a Happy Beltane and May Day!

In May
Yes, I will spend the livelong day
With Nature in this month of May;
And sit beneath the trees, and share
My bread with birds whose homes are there;
While cows lie down to eat, and sheep
Stand to their necks in grass so deep;
While birds do sing with all their might,
As though they felt the earth in flight.
This is the hour I dreamed of, when
I sat surrounded by poor men;
And thought of how the Arab sat
Alone at evening, gazing at
The stars that bubbled in clear skies;

And of young dreamers, when their eyes
Enjoyed methought a precious boon
In the adventures of the Moon
Whose light, behind the Clouds’ dark bars,
Searched for her stolen flocks of stars.
When I, hemmed in by wrecks of men,
Thought of some lonely cottage then
Full of sweet books; and miles of sea,
With passing ships, in front of me;
And having, on the other hand,
A flowery, green, bird-singing land.
William Henry Davies 1871–1940

PoeTree

Poetry. A gentle play on words makes me laugh.

April is almost over and I nearly forgot it was National Poetry Month!

I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
Joyce Kilmer

I looked up at this gnarled but lovely twisty eucalyptus tree trunk and ran my fingers down her bark/skin. It was roughly textured but felt solid and safe. Notice all the nooks and crannies to shelter birds and other living creatures.

I am also protected.

For me, this embodies poe-tree.