outside my window air hangs heavy
yesterday’s rain now stale
drops in slow motion from the gutter
exposed trees stand breathless
caught in damp morning heat
I hear the rhythmic beat
of tires coming and going
on the road beside our house
August is the saddest month
weary of relentless summer
it languishes—
counting the days
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 August 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Symphony
The way ahead runs like a ribbon
through autumn hills
draped in early morning mist.
Foreground reality sturdy
and reassuring frames
this snapshot of life–
an adventure into unknown territory.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 2 August 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser, Autumn 2015
Driving through Cairngorms National Park, Scotland
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Foggy
This past Sunday D and I visited Chanticleer. It’s only a 20 minute drive from our house. You can walk through the entire garden, with a few off-path adventures, in a couple of hours. Alternatively, you can spend the day exploring tempting side paths. Bring your picnic lunch and eat at one of the picnic tables, or on your own blanket spread anywhere you like on the grass. Or you could sit in a lawn chair and read a book all afternoon.
On Sunday it was a bit crowded, but not too much for a leisurely stroll punctuated with stops for photo ops. D took the photo at the top on Mother’s Day in May 2015. It’s one of my favorites. Later this week I’ll post a photo review of Sunday’s visit.
During the last few weeks I’ve begun reviewing all my Haiku/Poetry posts, selecting some for possible publication in an ebook. The poem below is among them, inspired by the photo at the top.
the garden of my heart
sits quietly waiting
chairs placed side by side
beam with glowing luster
tadpoles swim
mosquitoes buzz
flowers dip and sway,
music from a springtime breeze
invites me out to play
lily pads provoke a game
of hopscotch cricket-style
dragon-flies flit overhead
and clap their wings for joy
cool water laps around the reeds
a gentle under-tone
announcing your arrival soon
to be with me
alone
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 16 June 2015
Photo found at Chanticleer Garden Guide
Chanticleer Pond Garden
Time to get back to sorting through those lovely poems. Surprisingly, I’m feeling more energized about this project than I anticipated. Thanks for all the likes and comments you left in the past, especially on my haiku/poetry posts. It’s heartwarming to see and read them again! Even inspirational.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 1 August 2017
It’s Summer 2016. In early April I got my pacemaker (Lucy); two weeks later I broke my jaw and had my teeth wired for 4-5 weeks. The idea of going on the cruise we’d already planned seemed crazy. But it wasn’t. My main activity during the cruise was resting, sleeping, and eating soft food! In other words, it was, for me, a huge Sabbath Rest.
One year ago D and I, with our daughter and son-in-law enjoyed a huge once-in-a-lifetime cruise down the Rhine, Main and Danube Rivers. Here are random favorites that depict the heart, if not the full reality of Sabbath rest. The ducks at the top are showing how it’s done. We spotted them at Kinderdijk. The photos below were taken on the way to Cologne and in one of the parks there.
For starters, here’s a photo of me sound asleep, doing Nothing.
Just looking at this makes me go all limp.
And what about those snazzy socks!
Here are some rather limp cattle we passed along the way.
They didn’t even look up or ask what we were doing!
Just kept napping, chewing their cud, and chilling out.
Not to be outdone by cattle,
this water fowl family is getting into the spirit of things, too.
Doing mostly nothing but enjoying an outing together.
And here’s a young couple also doing nothing
but resting and enjoying this beautiful view of the river.
I wonder who they are?
Here they are again!
We saw them quite often during the cruise.
They smiled a lot. Definitely a sign of Sabbath joy.
Well look at that!
This Sabbath rest thing seems to be popular with everyone.
Especially when it means enjoying nature.
Here’s our trusty photographer, aka D,
taking a picture of himself in front of a reflective screen.
He’s enjoying relaxed time in his very relaxed outfit!
You don’t have to dress up for Sabbath rest, you know.
Nearby was this calm bunny taking great joy in a favorite snack!
There’s that good-looking couple again!
They look like they’re enjoying each other and nature and
a complete break from their normal busy, creative lives.
Just as I’m trying to do right now.
You might say nature enjoys Sabbath every day.
But sometimes it outdoes itself with beauty. Natural beauty.
This looks like Sabbath-day best to me.
And this little bee is having the feast of a lifetime.
You might say its cup is running over with joy and delight.
Back on the cruise ship, D got this evening shot of
the Cologne Cathedral, spires pointing upwards.
A silent reminder of the source of our life, our rest and our joy.
Blessings of peace and rest to each of you.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 29 July 2017, reposted on 6 August 2022
Photos taken by DAFraser, Summer 2016 Viking Cruise
Here’s an Emily Dickinson poem that appeals to the child in each of us. I also find it timely, all things considered. My response follows her poem.
Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Man from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called “Morning” lies!c. 1859
Emily Dickinson Poems, Edited by Brenda Hillman
Shambhala Pocket Classics, Shambhala 1995
Dear Emily,
I wonder what was on your mind when you wrote this. Maybe the War between the States? Family members who fought in it? Or how about the devastation left behind when so many cities and fertile fields were laid waste via fire?
Some people don’t think things here are that bad now; others don’t agree. I’d say we at least have something like it.
Then again, maybe you were thinking of less visible things. Perhaps a personal loss you couldn’t show the world. Or the piled up anguish of watching one family member after another decline in health and leave this world. Or your keen awareness that this world doesn’t always value what you value, or see things the way you do.
I think we have all of that right now, and more just keeps coming. I also think we’re getting tired of it.
Maybe you were lonely when you wrote this. So lonely that you would have been happy to leave this life behind. You might have been lonely for the birds and insects, trees and shrubs, water lilies and butterflies, sunrises and sunsets. All creatures great and small. Your outdoor cathedral and congregation where you felt safe, understood and appreciated. Without having to explain yourself over and over.
In your poem you call yourself a little Pilgrim. I like that. It’s a very kind and tender way to talk about yourself. Almost, but not quite putting yourself down because you don’t happen to be a scholar, sailor or wise man from the skies. I think you’re already a wise woman, a sailor of sometimes treacherous social seas, and a deep scholar of human life.
Now that you’re There, I wonder whether, as a Wise Woman from the skies, you might tell me where the place called “Morning” lies. Could you? Would you? It seems we have many lost souls here who are looking for that place. If not here, then where? Can you help us find it? Or at least send us a little poem about it?
Your pen pal, Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 27 July 2017
Photo found at collegewritingpoetry.wordpress.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Hidden
rising and falling
earth-born cicada concert
shrieks through summer air
***
Do you live on the East Coast of the USA? This year’s crop of cicadas is huge. Here’s a great article that will tell you how many cicadas per square mile (sit down!), plus other fascinating cicada facts.
Or maybe you’d just like to hear one of these little buggers in solo concert (solo? a rarity in my experience). Check out this video:
All I wanted was a quiet morning walk. Not only were the cicadas ramping up into full morning concert, the tree experts were boring and grinding the remains of a large expired shade tree deeply rooted in soil next to the grade school. No complaints, though, since I already knew the prompt for the day, and enjoyed the walk.
Hoping your day brings good surprises along with whatever else comes along.
Elouise ♥
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 19 July 2017
Image found at livescience.com; video found on YouTube
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Soil
It’s early Friday morning. Rain arrived
late yesterday evening breaking a short
oppressive heat wave. I have one hour
for a walk outside before the rain returns.
Morning smoothie safely tucked away,
I put on my rain gear and open the back door.
The rush of dense humid air assaults my lungs,
my face, and any part of my skin not covered.
It’s mid-summer. No rush of passing traffic
greets me as I turn left from our driveway.
No sidewalk here. Just a curb
and the sound of occasional tires
squishing over dark, damp pavement.
Quickly I turn left down a narrow side street
lined with neighborhood houses,
away from the flow of traffic to and from
wherever people go at this time of day
in midsummer.
I hear the sound of my shoes on wet pavement,
a few muffled voices inside a house or two,
and birdsong filling the air. Invisible waves of
of warm damp air magnify the chorus of bird calls
surrounding me from branches and treetops.
At the end of this short street I turn left
again headed toward more open spaces.
I’m now on a sidewalk, next to the grammar
school playing field on my right, and a church yard
just beyond. A white spire and white headstones
gleam beneath towering trees.
Turning right, between the school yard and
the church yard, I walk beneath trees still
filled with birdsong. Leftover rain and dew drops
fall rhythmically hitting damp ground
and empty parking spaces behind the school.
Circling around the school, toward a public park,
I start up the hill through another deserted parking lot.
My pace slows a bit. I notice
the dying hemlock now marked
with a large white X signaling the end
of its long fight against invasive insects.
Will it receive a proper burial?
A gleaming white headstone?
I circle another tree at the top of the driveway
then turn down a small path through
the park, back toward the school.
Tiny drops of water glitter on tips
of fir needles and low-hanging tree leaves,
brushing my face with cool water.
I turn left to walk behind the school, past
the athletic field on my way home. In the distance
I see the churchyard with its lush green trees.
The weeping beech towers next to rows
of white headstones rooted in earth,
soaking in summer’s gift of life-giving rain.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 14 July 2017
Image found at pinterest.com
gritty monuments to perseverance emerge from salts of the earth
***
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 July 2017
Image of Bryce Canyon, Utah, found at Pixabay.com
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Grit
One split second frozen in time captures my eyes.
***
This is a shout-out of gratitude to my dear husband who captures so many stunning photos. No matter where we are. No matter how much time it takes. No hurry. No worry. I sit in the shade, relaxing, or walk around and then come back, knowing his attention to detail will be rewarded.
Not every photo is picture perfect. But then there are the others, waiting to be discovered. This is one of the standouts.
D took this last week on our visit to Longwood Gardens. For me, the payoff comes in photos like this. They evoke wonder, and invite me to ponder life from a different angle.
They also remind me of our many trips together through life. Memories captured and resurrected each time I return for a look-see. Or post them right here for you.
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 3 July 2017
Photo taken by DAFraser, 27 June 2017
Longwood Gardens Lily Pond, Kennet Square, Pennsylvania
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Dash
Yesterday was spectacular, so we took off after lunch for an afternoon at Longwood Gardens. The newly renovated Italian Water Garden opened several weeks ago. Besides that, we hadn’t seen other areas of Longwood this season. Here’s a teeny tiny taste, with more to follow in a later post.
The eye of water at the top has been dry as a bone while renovation of the Water Garden was under way. It’s always a cool shady refuge. Quiet, with benches all around, and the sound of water spilling over into a creek rushing down to a waterfall that drops from the bell tower to a pool below.
We crossed the creek and walked by towering trees to the bell tower.
The giant trunk below is a dawn redwood.
Just beyond the bell tower above you can see stairs going
down from the Conservatory into the new Italian Water Garden.
The photo below was taken from the Bell Tower–
our first peek at the Water Garden from a distance.
Now we’re headed downhill from the Bell Tower to ground level.
On the way, we go through a shady wooded area.
Here we are at ground level behind the main fountains.
We’re going to go up the stairs for a close-up view of the main show!.
Note the small water fountain in the courtyard,
and the elevator tower just left of the stairway.
It’s 3:00 in the afternoon, time for water music and a brief water show.
Here are a few more photos taken from the viewing platform.
First, directly below us, looking toward the Conservatory.
Second, a look back at the Bell Tower.
Finally, I think the gentleman with the keys is checking out
music/water display coordination.
Stay tuned for more Longwood photos!
© Elouise Renich Fraser, 28 June 2017
Photos taken by DAFraser, 27 June 2017
Response to WordPress Daily Prompt: Sunny
Telling the Truth 