Anyway, we start off today with a close up of some flowers on a bush that I have no memories of what it was called, but it was purchased at a nursery somewhere. I planted it where it is by an old cedar stump, and it has not thrived. Many summers, I have thought it dead. It lives! This is the first time that I looked at the blooms very closely. It's kinda neat.
This is a close up of an asparagus bloom. I thought it was cool how the tips seem to be glowing as if they have a light inside of them. If you know asparagus, you know that I missed a chance to eat this delicious sprout about a week before. Shame on me!
This is the most beautiful color of iris that I have--just my personal taste in colors. I only had this stalk of blooms in this purple and black. There are no other plants that look like they will have flowers. Still, this one stem had three flowers on it.
Remember the unknown bush from above? This is a bundle of blooms on the other side of that bush. Some of the individual flowers are exquisite.
Okay, now, remember the iris bloom from above? This is a closeup of one of the blooms below the other one. I really, really like the tiger-like stripes on either side of the beard.
Well, you know me by now. I see something weird, strange, or colorful, and I like to take a picture of it. A live oak tree in the yard has these three distinct colors of moss, lichen, or algae growing on it. The all look very alien if you zoom in on them. The color of blue on the lichens is very beautiful, almost robin egg blue.
Finally, above we have two different pictures of wild roses. I have some in my yard, but the ones across the back road in the woods had many more full bunches of flowers on it, so I got the pictures of the ones in the woods. On the top picture, some kind of bug decided it would like to model for me. Little stinker!
Oh, yeah! The poem! This one is taken from the middle of a poem that I wrote in 1984 just after I got out of high school. The whole poem was probably what you might expect an eighteen year old to write. It wasn't very good. And I should probably also admit that I took twelve lines from the original poem, changed them around a bit, and added one line to each stanza. Then, I named it something that has nothing to do with the original poem. It is a different poem, but it is also the same poem. I think there might be some irony in that. Enjoy!
Irony
Stones grow up
Through browning grass.
Rain erodes soil from
Around all their roots.
Lightning struck limbs
Stripped of gray bark
Wave shiny green leaves
On their whipping tips.
A stump of an oak tree,
A mealy, brown trunk,
Stands supported by twisting ivy,
Briary vines that killed it.
Stones roll in water currents
Wear into round brown pebbles
Break into angular sand crystals
Then settle as silt near the sea.
Comments