Replenishing the Well

 

I had hoped to sparkle back your way this week, but truth be told, the well is still replenishing (not that dryness is actually the issue, here…)

So I simply offer this image of a spontaneous moment on Monday with hopes that  your well is replenishing well, as well–

Muguets Muguets & Tissues, photo and all text © Irene O’Garden, 2014

If you really want to listen to my clogged-up voice, please click here:Muguets and Tissues

Oh, the fuzzy muzzy muddle-headed mediation of a cold! Right in the middle of this scurrying season, the flow of life congeals, senses blanketed in thick subterranean retreat, jello in the veins and brain.

Though people come and go throughout your day, forget your appearance–nothing makes your puffy self attractive. Red rims every feature of your face, your cracking voice seems to be emerging from an antique bathosphere, and the few movements you care to make are like a stop motion animation with the motion mostly stopped.

But there is comfort in withdrawal after a week of intense effort. And perhaps at day’s end, you can, in your pajamas, gather sorrel from the garden, roast garlic and shallots, chop the last potato, sip that savory soup, mix a toddy of brandy-addled ginger tea, climb into bed with an old-fashioned whodunnit, blessed by the faint but detectable scent of  a nosegay of muguets you plucked. And that’s nothing to sneeze at.

 

City Tulips

City Tulips, photo & all text © Irene O’Garden, 2014

As the old song goes, while strolling through the park one day, in the merry, merry month of May, I was taken by surprise… by the colossal size and the glory of the tulips on the way. These opulent beauties are gracing Madison Square Park for a few more days.

But I cannot linger to describe or draw conclusions from them (not that they need it) for I teach a dozen poetry classes this week to help our local schoolchildren cherish the natural world. (Thanks to the Hudson Highlands Land Trust’s  River of Words program.) So it’s a short post today.

Monday was School Forest Day here in Garrison, and I was asked to conduct a few sensory awareness exercises with first-graders. We watched leaves dance, listened to myriad sounds, learned to know a personal rock by touch alone.

Here are the blooms I’m cultivating in our country woods–with any luck, they’ll keep blossoming for years and years.

 

Country blooms

 

 

 

fiddleFiddlehead, photo and all text, © Irene O’Garden, 2014

To listen to this post, please click here: Fiddle Dee Day

At dinner the other night, John and I were served a delicious dish of sautéed fiddlehead ferns. I always feel a bit guilty eating them, since they burst so with promise, as did this one outside my cabin door last Friday.

As we munched, I was reminded of my slenderest little volume, eight pages long. Tracy Strong and I conceived, designed and printed it spontaneously in a single day in 1995 to accompany my show Stand-Up Dreams

psychic compassPsychic Compass, photo © Irene O’Garden, 2014

As you see, it’s entitled “All Points on the Psychic Compass Turn In.” It’s a tiny collection of thoughts that occurred to me waking up from sleep. (The title itself is one.)

Such thoughts have a different quality from either dream or waking reality, and while I don’t always know what they mean,  I enjoy attending to them.

The one I recalled was this:

 

Fiddlepage

 

It made me laugh when I wrote down, but I didn’t fully get its meaning until I took this photograph a few moments ago. That’s the very same fern in the top photo, but how the days have changed her. Her head is nearly all unrolled–though, for the moment, her leaflets are fiddling still.

This fleet season, these few days when opening leaves are V’s on the trees, is like that ephemeral state between sleeping and waking–a sweet surprising passing gossamer of consciousness.  Reminding us that life, at any stage, still bursts with promise.

 

What are you fiddling with these days?

1show current page