Forsythia in Bloom

The yellow birds sing

throats full of spring. In windows,

forsythia sun.

Spring Squills

 

The first flowers of spring

in our yard

are the squills (scilla bifolia).

 

They pop up in the places we planted them

and in the places

where the squirrels moved them...

always surprises.

 

 

They grow in a circle under the crab apple tree

and in waves though the grass.

 

They don't stay long,

but long enough to comfort 

my heart's hope for spring.

 

Happy Mother's Day 2014

Mother's Day, though commercialized, is still meaningful.  Without mothers, none of us would exist.  For birth, for life, for support and love on my life's journey, I am thankful for my mother.  

I am thankful for my own mother and grandmothers, and thankful for those mothers, to whom I am able to be mother and a grandmother.

I'm sending a special Happy Mother's Day wish to Melanie and Melissa, to Julie, Jeannette and Pascale...each one a great mother to our grandchildren.

Happy Mother's Day to each of you with love.

Crocus Flowers Bloom

The sun shines

The crocus flowers bloom

My heart hums a tune

the song of robins

Need I say more?

A Perfect Rainy Monday

Raining...again…today.  I wanted to be outside raking winter’s debris from the yard, but it’s raining again today.  I look out the window and can see work, which needs to be done.  I can’t see past my list: rake, trim, stake and repair.  The list nags at my brain.

My internal critic wants me to be out there getting stuff done; ticking off another chore from the list.  It’s not a good way to begin the day.

But, what’s this in my yard?  

A pair of mallard ducks have landed.  They waddle up the gravel path to the paved driveway.  It, too, needs work, as the frost has pushed and heaved the driveway into humps and depressions where puddles of rainwater pool.  I wonder if the ducks are looking for a drink from a puddle, but no.

They are looking for something else, necks outstretched and clearly searching.  Ah, they’ve found it, but what?  I can’t see anything but dark pavement, but they are rushing to a flat spot near the puddles. They appear to be eating something.   Heads down, heads up and shake. 

I can’t see anything from inside and know if I open the door to get closer, they’ll fly.  I grab the camera and wind the lens out and watch.  Worms.  Thin pink earthworms are lying on the pavement after the hard rains.  And the ducks are eating them, bending down and sucking up the worms, like children sucking up spaghetti noodles, one at a time.  

I hear myself laughing. What a delight!

I laugh at the ducks.  And at myself for fretting over my list.  Everything has its time and its purpose. The world does not end because I can’t rake today.  

This day is already perfect, just as it is full of rain and worms.  The ducks are relishing the opportunities this day offers, just as it is. 

I will too.

words and photos are ©copyright 2009-2014 Carol Steel

Bright Colours of Spring

At daybreak, the grey sky opened to orange, yellow, pink and mauve.  Though I know this means more grey later today, perhaps dampness and achy arthritic joints, I relish colours anywhere I can find them.  Spring has been long coming and the usual swathes of bright flowers are nowhere to be found, not yet.

 

At least, they have not yet appeared in this yard.   I wait with the pale grass bleached by winter, the grey rock wall and the grey squirrels that explore there, the aging cedar fence broken under the weight of winter, the garden too wet to rake; wait for the fresh green of spring to push through matted leaves and the detritus of winter.

I long for the bright colours to burst open.

Photos and words are ©2009-2014 Carol Steel

Spring and Yellow and Poetry

It’s been a long time; a long time since I’ve written any words in my blog. 

Time has passed, full of worry about my mother and weariness from her care.  Time passed regardless of whether I wrote or whether she grew worse or well.  The months rolled on; time and circumstance changed both our lives.

Mum deals with her new fragility.   She struggles for strength, relishing every day and every accomplishment, pushing her energy forward to healing.   Back in her own home, she manages with help from family and a hired caregiver, a good friend.  She learns to cope with the changes in her body.

I am recovering my own energy and relishing the seasonal changes, the bright places in each day.   My focus on writing, particularly poetry, has returned, and though rusty, is responding to re-writes, polish and hard work.
 

The grey and brown days of spring give way to splotches of fresh green, flashes of colour—the goldfinches at the feeders, the dime-sized yellow crocus, the larger purple ones, the hint of red and gold on a blackbird’s wing. 

I welcome these signs of colour, renewed vigor and fresh life.    It’s been a challenging winter.  I am grateful for the lessons of love and the wisdom hard won, as I move into a transformed thankfulness for each new day.

Spring and yellow and poetry and purple fill the sweet breezes.  I am ready.

Photo and words are ©copyright 2009-2014 Carol Steel