Life as art

porch rocker

the tilt between

life and still-life*

first published bottle rockets

Lightning and stillness

Lightning struck a tree about 500 feet from my kitchen seat. I was reading Sunday's paper (on Wednesday) and my head was angled just enough to capture the storm outside as well as the words I was reading.

the strike
a flashboombolt
inside my chest

It was as magnificent as it was terrorizing. Fear and awe. I could not process it in my mind - way too close. Stillness was all that was left. And fleeting beauty.

For Dad

floating
above the bay bridge
wings spread still
a seagull collects my thoughts
scatters them into sky

First published on 3 Lights Gallery 2008

Wisdom Wood

Wisdom Wood is a garden. A fitting name for all that it implies. A garden is like a poem - hard to describe - yet beautiful when you come upon it. A garden can fit into a small container or it can contain a large property. Like a poem it expands your horizon.

Wisdom Wood is specifically the garden of Ruth and Fred Palace. It opened to the public yesterday as part of The Garden Conservancy Open Days Program.
www.gardenconservancy.org/



Ruth is a garden designer with a vision who is also visionary in her approach for allowing the garden to inspire and contribute to its own growth. The best gardens flourish because the garden and gardener co-create beauty and ultimately wisdom. There is always wisdom in a garden and beauty in simple truths - wisdom. Wisdom Wood grows an abundance of both.

Bravo and thank you to Ruth and Fred for their vision, dilligence and contribution to all of us by way of sharing their lovely gardens. And thank you to The Garden Conservancy and all gardeners who open their homes and gardens to the public for the sheer joy of sharing beauty.

Ruth and Fred

                                                                                                                  

An approach to the Japanese Dry Stream Garden



The Bog Garden

lingering

deep into twilight

a robin and me



Sunday night blues



Sunday night is quiet. Sometimes in preparation for the week ahead. Sometimes in reflection of the weekend events. It has its own mood.
I would color it blue. Sunday night has the feel of voices in the distance. You cannot understand what is being said, but you know there is conversation. Twilight absorbs the light and saves it until next Sunday night.

trailing dusk the great blue heron skies

haiku first published in Presence #42