Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Azaleas

A little poem and some gorgeous photos

Sometimes I don’t know what to say. I just know there’s something inside that wants out. So here are bits and pieces that come to mind.

First, a little poem. Yesterday I went to see one of my doctors. As I was driving away, I saw an older couple making their way along the sidewalk across the street. I wrote this when I got home.

fragile and disheveled
the woman inches along
behind her walker —
sunlit hair gleams in the light
shining from her partner’s eyes

I hope I’m so happy when I’m that old. As for right now, I’m grateful for D who has done a lot of heavy lifting during the last three years. Often accompanied by one of his gorgeous smiles that begins in his eyes.

Second, one of D’s favorite things to do is record flowering shrubs around our yard. Here are some of his latest captures. Those are periwinkles at the top. Happily invasive, I wish they would completely over-run the ivy along our driveway.

blossoms outside my office window, Azalias below

Lilac blossoms below

and Spring Christmas cactus blossoms in our kitchen

Third, a photo I took this morning with my Ipad after I got back from an early morning walk. D had just finished mowing the yard, and the peonies were irresistible.

Finally, one more photo I took in the house. Smudge is sitting in his new (now old) favorite space, watching us clean things up in the kitchen. You can see his battered red birdie toys on the floor.

Gratitude. That’s what’s on my mind today. I’m grateful I’m alive and connected to so many people I never thought I’d meet in just this way. Blogging is part of what’s kept me going for the last four years. I could, I suppose, do it without you. But it wouldn’t be nearly so rewarding or life-changing for me.

Hoping you’re having a great weekend and Sabbath rest.

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 May 2018
Photos taken by DAFraser and ERFraser, Spring 2018

searching for Spring

haunting song
of a lone flicker
pierces cold damp air

azalea Springs
of pink coral and magenta
float in the distance

a teary sort
the woman searches for Spring
gone missing

Looking at these haiku, each written on a different day this past week, I’m struck by how well they tell me what’s happening. Not simply in nature, but in myself and in my life here in the USA where we seem stuck in a rut.

All I can do is follow my heart, the way these haiku follow it, and keep writing about it. There’s a blessing and a curse in being old enough to remember not just where we’ve been, but how eerily familiar the terrain feels. Especially in the realms of politics and religion.

And then there’s the unseen realm of things going on in my body and my spirit. Changes I didn’t ask for and never thought would happen to me.

All of it will play out. My part is to keep recording what I hear. When I’m able to write about it, I know I’m in touch with myself and I’m letting it go. Writing the last chapter of my life.

Looking forward to Sabbath rest,

©Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 April 2018
Photo found at

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