The Thinker - Small Stone - 12

 

I watch Angelo from my kitchen window

sitting amid the Forget-Me-Nots

always serious, always thinking

staying mindful

small stone

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Pansies Make Me Cry - Small Stone - 5

pansies raise their sweet faces toward sunset's glow

thinking of my mother who loved pansies

passing from this life on a July evening

her pansies still blooming

I remember her in the comforting twilight

as tears fall

small stone

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End of August - End of Summer

 The end of August at high altitude means the end of summer.

The forest floor changes day by day.

Nights become cooler - soon frost will appear.

My gardens splurge on one last burst of color.

We hike in early morning on trails we've used for 30 years.

We rarely meet another person.

August has been very dry, but today rain fell.

Our forests need moisture. There are 4 wildfires burning in Colorado.

dawn turns the trees golden

We continue to isolate at our mountain home.

There is no place we'd rather be.

We've enjoyed our gorgeous high altitude summer.

We're staying well and staying hopeful.

I hope you are, too.

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Small Stone - Wild Blooming - 15

July is the time for blooming. 

I have no formal gardens, only gardens without borders.

Both wildflowers and perennials self-sow.

I never know what will come up or where.

My gardens and wildflower yard are prettily disheveled. 

.

These photos are from my front yard.

Hybrid Lupine and Shasta Daisies are the first to bloom.

Next will come Fireweed, Dianthus, and Maltese Cross.

I know people who keep formal gardens are appalled.
For me, the colors and disorganization are bliss.

I'm in love with each day's new discovery.

A "wild" yard doesn't mean I don't weed.

I spent several hours this morning pulling up Chamomile Daisies.

They're a noxious weed in Colorado - I've been battling them for 30 years.

They grow all around the neighborhood and seed onto my property.

They like to make believe they're Shasta Daisies, but they don't fool me!

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Wedding Anniversary

Today is our 53rd wedding anniversary.

We plan a quiet, candlelit dinner for two here at the house. 

Next week, we'll celebrate again by going to Vail for several days.

I remember how young we were 53 years ago.

We had no idea then the adventures we'd have.

Through turmoil and calm, good and bad, the marriage endured.

We're very grateful for our life together.

The blossoming love I felt on August 14, 1966 is still in my heart.

When we awoke this morning, Bob said,

"Happy Anniversary to my Bride of 53 years."

My husband is my One Good Thing today

(and every day we are given).

Photos are of flowers in our gardens taken with Olympus OMD-EM1.

Thank You for visiting.

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Finding Good in Sad Times

Angelica, my garden angel, 

lends grace and beauty to my garden.

Do you see her presiding serenely from the rear?

She has blessed the blooms for 15 years.

Whatever the weather brings, she stands, calm and peaceful.

Even when younger, she had a weathered appearance.

However, you could read her signs and admire the little gardening tools.

Now she's falling apart.

Her wings are cracked and peeling.

The tools and ornaments have disappeared.

Her heart is rusted.

She's rickety.

Angelica has weathered so many storms.

She speaks to me of perseverance and hope.

But, she will not make it through another summer.

Sadly, Angelica has seen her last garden season.

I'll miss her - she's been a quiet presence and a good listener.

Thinking of all the years Angelica has been faithful is my one good thing today.

Even in sadness there are good things to remember.

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This and That from Breckenridge

My world is awash with color.

The aspens are shouting in orange and gold. 

A few hardy blooms survive the colder temperatures.

The rest dry and go to seed.

I welcome change.

The Denver house sold - the new owner took possession today.

Our glorious fall is nearly over at high altitude.

Snow last night and again tonight signal the coming of winter.

Between unpacking boxes and rearranging the house,

I'm learning a new camera and editing system.

Wherever you are in the world,

I hope something is making you smile!

(All photos Olympus E-M1, Micro 4/3, edited in Lightroom)

Seeds of Hope

summer blooms

in fall I sow seeds with fanciful names:

gay butterflies

red carpet sedum

origami columbine

sightseeing veronica 

thriller lady's mantle

victoria forget-me-not

noble and red flame lupine

violet and white gayfeather

mystica and rondo penstemon

silver carpet snow-in-summer

fruit punch, harem, pizzicato, and queen alexandra poppy

dreaming of summer blooming

wilting daisies keep me company

white upon white

hundreds of dreams now dormant:

seeds of hope

covered by snow

doze until spring

through trial and error

over 24 years at high altitude

my method is this:

wait until a snow that will form the base

mix seeds and sand in a pail

determine areas of sunlight and shade

fling the seed with all good wishes and plenty of hope

wait patiently for June when the first green shoots emerge

I believe in miracles

I believe in One Good Thing

(it's snowing hard at this moment - the seeds sleep)

Running Wild - Morning Glories - They Grow on You

Remember the story of Jack and his Beanstalk?

Well, my magic beans are Morning Glory seeds.

I threw a few in the dirt beside the house in Denver several years ago.

I had no idea they're so prolific.

Each spring, I yank tiny tendrils when they appear.

Every summer, the vines multiply.

Late this season, they overtook the Nasturtium.

They scaled the climbing rose.

Spiral threads reach toward the roof.

Pink and purple flowers peek jauntily through my windows.

They've turned my narrow side garden into a jungle.

They're uncontainable:

Glories of the Morning

Here's what I've learned:

I'm not going to win this battle.

I'm starting to marvel at their tenacity and perseverance.

I think maybe I'm even enjoying them!

They're starting to grow on me.

Sunflower Days

morning in the city

alley cruising on garbage day

scavenger man nods and smiles

me working up a sweat

him all business

sentry of sunflowers

keeping watch

One Good Thing - a sunflower day

Spending time in Denver over the Labor Day weekend, I rise early to exercise before heat bears down on the city. A Latino man in a white pickup is out early, too. I "meet" him several times as I run my route. He enters and exits the alleys, looking for cast-offs left behind garages and on curbs. We "recognize" each other in passing. 

A sunflower morning unfolds for us both.

(iPhone 5 photo edited with Snapseed and Titlefx)

Taking Time...

Summer at altitude is short and sweet.

I'll stop posting for awhile.

Nature beckons.

I'll find One Good Thing each day -
I hope you do, too.

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Morning Meditation

stillness
gold touches treetops
 a young buck watches.

light leaks to sky
haze veils peaks
faint trail beckons

only this moment
morning meditation

Still gardening, hiking, and enjoying the summer here at high altitude in Colorado. 

Wet in Breckenridge

dripping from trees

shower caps shield blooms

bugs take shelter under umbrellas

drop by drop by drop

a cadence of cleansing

(much needed rain is falling in Breckenridge, Colorado)