desert birds of paradise
lavender, catmint, Mexican hats, feather grass
early summer Joy
flowers
Iris Everywhere
Iris
barely buried by the barn
caliche covered at drive’s end
along the retaining wall
Sunday Haiku
scissors snip blossoms
strong storms bring destructive cold
final flowers of summer
Sunday Haiku
crystalline air, intensity colors the atmosphere
dragon stands guard
reblooming lavender iris, scarlet sage, shadows
Sunday Haiku
clouds, grey, purple, black, drift after the rain
flowers smile
puddles reflect, evening falls, a night hawk calls
Sunday Haiku
Iris, blackfoot daisies, catmint, salvia,
asters, penstemon
springtime flowers carpeting my heart
Surprises
Life sometimes graces you with lovely surprises, the unexpected sunrise, flowers in unusual places, the rarely seen bobcat climbing the canyon wall. Today, tired, bag full of papers to grade, I entered my house, smelling a puzzling sweetness. The stage manger of Les Miserable lived with me two weeks. She left a bottle of red wine, a heartfelt note, and a bouquet, snowy lilies, golden roses, blue bells. Lillie scent pervades the room. I walk in beauty. 
Friends and Flowers
On my way home from work today, I stopped by a friend’s house to get some Black Eyed Susans. She and her husband run a bed and breakfast with a spectacular garden in the back. Iris of every color are blooming, yellow, lavender and white, peach, every shade of purple, and one a combination of colors I have never seen before. The lavender and white combined in one flower I gave her in the fall of 2012. They rebloom and spread rather rapidly. Because of that and the fact that I cannot bear to throw any away, I have them by the barn and here and there. Some do better than others–a lot of the soil here is either clay or caliche or a combination, not very conducive to anything but the toughest. She has a rose bush taller than I am which means it must be about 5’6″ or 7″. Another deep red rose was already blooming. She gives me flowers and I wait and see how they do or if the deer or bunnies will eat them.
Today’s weather brought perfection, a rare treat of just the right temperature, sunshine, and no wind. When I arrived, her husband was napping in the garden in a lawn chaise. He got up, we all walked around the garden, looked in the koi pond, and commented what flowers seemed to flourish more readily than others. Many flowers which do well in town either die out here in the country only twelve miles away or fail to thrive. They just sit there and do nothing. She and I have shared flowers for years, flowers and conversation and wine. We all decided to sit town and share some wine and cheeses and crackers and visit. They travel widely and always have tales to tell. He is from Jordan so we discuss world events. Part of today’s conversation centered on Boko Haram and the differences between Shia and Sunni. He is Sunni and I used to be married to a Shiite. Often we discuss extremism and how it harms everyone, regardless of religion. None of us understand the hatred some people seem to feel toward others who are different from them either my race or religion or ethnicity or gender.
As soon as I returned home and changed into gardening clothes, I fed Rosie, and planted the Black Eyed Susans with a big dose of water and root stimulator. Who knows if they will make it. I will wait and see. If they do, they will contrast nicely with the purple of the catmint and the white, tiny, native Blackfoot Daisies growing wild among the other plants in my little garden. What more can a person wish for than spending time with good friends among the flowers. And a little wine never hurts.
The Sound of Silence
For years I puzzled over what this phrase means. This evening I discovered the answer. Unlike the first part of the week, today was sunny, little wind, high 70s, what most consider a perfect day weather wise. I ran home from work, gave Rosie, my horse, some food, let Isabella, my dog out for a bit, and then ran back to town to see my grandson perform. He attends Wolflin Elementary School. The physical education teacher selected a group of students called the SWAT Team who perform at different functions. The last time I saw them, they performed at a local high school’s basketball tournament. Today they executed four routines at their school’s annual gala, a fund raiser with games, food, a silent auction, dunking in the water, that sort of thing. It really astonished me. I have no idea how much they practiced, but these routines were not short and everything was perfectly choreographed. First, the boys performed using basketballs to do various tricks and movements in unison to music. Then the girls did this complicated sort of dance over these long bamboo poles that other students clicked together. The only other place where I have seen anything like this is in Thailand at the Rose Garden near Bangkok. The third routine included both boys and girls and they used this giant circle of multicolored cloth to dance around, in and out, make the cloth into a sort of yurt like shape. I have no idea how they kept it up like a giant circular tent one minute and flat the next. Finally, they competed with hoola hoops to see who could keep going the longest.
After I returned home, I hosed off the front entryway, planted some flowers in pots, and watered other flowers, all in preparation for a fund raiser tomorrow night at my house–to raise money for a local senior citizens center. Rosie is shedding her winter coat and seemed miserable itching so I brushed her. Now tufts of pale rose colored hair lay everywhere in her corral. Finally, a bit after eight I came inside for a late dinner. Then I noticed. No sounds, no wind, no appliances humming, no coyotes howling, no birds singing, no dogs barking, no sounds at all. Nothing. The patio doors are open; I walked outside a few minutes ago. Nothing. I sit here before the computer and hear the sounds the keys make when I hit them. When I stop, nothing.
Rosie
Isabella on the patio in winter.
They started blooming today.
A Happy Birthday with Three Penny Opera
After a certain age many of us do not expect all that exciting a birthday, but mine this past week was a huge exception to anything I could have expected. First, on the day before, these spectacular flowers arrived from my son, Erik Karlsson. Parie Designs in Amarillo, Texas, really knows how to do flowers out of the ordinary.
Almost two weeks ago, Walker Lewis, the Director, and Jeromy Hunt, the Production Stage Manager, of the upcoming production of Three Penny Opera (Amarillo Opera Company) arrived to stay with me for three weeks. Yesterday, my birthday, was an off day for them. Chad Armstrong, one of the baritones, came over to ride my horse, Rosie. Romy and Walker gave me a bottle of good cab and bought me a birthday cake. We relaxed on the rim of wonder (my patio), ate, and rode Rosie. Then last night we all went to the annual opera gala. Unfortunately, one of the opera performer’s husband became ill so now I will have my tiny fifteen minutes of glory playing the madame of the brothel, pretending to smoke a cigarette, counting money, and watching “my girls” and the customers, or so they tell me. Later today, I go for a fitting and start the one week of rehearsals remaining until the first performance on Saturday night.
I could not have ordered a better birthday.
Chad Armstrong on Rosie, Walker on the left and Romy on the right.
While Romy, Walker, and I hiked around, Chad rode off here and there, disappearing for a while and then showing back up. Rough riding in canyon country. Neither Romy nor Walker had ridden since childhood.
Walker Lewis learning to ride–on Rosie. He loved it and will ride again this coming week. He kept smiling all over!!!
Romy on Rosie with my dog, Isabella resting in the shade of a juniper tree.
Apparently, riding Rosie produced so much fun that the other singers want to come over later this week and ride. Nothing beats fun friends, fabulous food, and pretty well broke horses for a day to remember!!!
writingontherim 