Posts Tagged ‘resurrection fern’

Welcome to my weekly photo writing prompt. Take a peaceful moment to lose yourself in words. Write a poem of 16 words or so and place it in the comments. Write encouraging words to others by commenting on their poems. This week we are writing with the hashtag poeticdiversion that Molly Hogan started on Twitter.

This week’s image comes from my friend and neighbor James Edmunds. James does a lot of creative work including photography. I once took a class from him about iPhone photography and learned some cool tricks. I don’t know if he took this picture with his phone, but I doubt it. James, if you stop by, let us know.

Way down south here we’ve been getting a great deal of rain lately. The resurrection fern loves rain, and it pops up in beautiful green carpets on our trees. In nature, there are small miracles like this every day.

Resurrection Fern by James Edmunds, all rights reserved

Inside the depths
of fronds and rhizomes
fairies twinkle

Margaret Simon, draft

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Find more celebration posts at Ruth's blog.

Find more celebration posts at Ruth’s blog.


I take a walk in my neighborhood.  One of the gifts of living in South Louisiana are the live oak trees.  We have been getting rain every day this summer.  It helps to keep temperatures reasonable, in the 80’s rather than the 90’s, and it resurrects the resurrection fern.

This morning the sun was up and glowing on the fern.  I often refer to this phenomenon in my poetry.  A word search on my blog turned up 9 results.  To celebrate the fern today, I am re-using the lines in a photo-poem.

My senses awake like resurrection fern after the rain,

Grandmother Oak holds her jewels
of resurrection fern and Spanish moss
like modest ornaments.




Fern glistens in the emerging sun.




Her branches open wide for resurrection fern.


Being present is easy
when the light shines
on resurrection fern
making shadows to
fascinate me.


Live oaks reveal God’s name,
open resurrection fern.

I also found this poem gift from Diane Mayr.

Image by Diane Mayr

Image by Diane Mayr

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Discover. Play. Build.

Ruth Ayres invites us the celebrate each week. Click over to her site Discover. Play. Build. to read more celebrations.

My week back from the break was a full week. School every day (no snow days in South Louisiana) and parent conference day on Thursday. Report cards, progress reports, IEP meetings, etc. I need another break!

This week was also full of discoveries. My husband bought my students a gift, a mini-microscope. I passed it around in the package which was covered in foreign characters, no English. Then we took out the little blue plastic thing. They tried the switches, put their eyes to the view hole, and guessed flashlight, magnifying glass–microscope! Jacob’s reaction to the discovery, “Ew! My hand is covered in fish scales.” Fun discoveries.

What is this?

What is this?

My students are loving the white boards that a grandpa made for them. Here, Erin’s lemur friend tells how to make the best Monday, What are you Reading? post. Look at the creative spelling of genre.

Erin's guide to reader

My online writing group is driving me in so many ways. I posted a section of my WIP with “draping oak.” The question, “Do oaks drape?” On a Sunday afternoon walk after a huge rain, we came to this draping oak covered in resurrection fern. I posted it on Facebook asking for help in describing this in writing. Diane Mayr responded with an image poem. She didn’t know what resurrection fern was, so she researched it. More discoveries.

Live oak tree covered in resurrection fern.

Live oak tree covered in resurrection fern.

Image by Diane Mayr

Image by Diane Mayr

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On my early morning walk today, I was alone. My cell phone came along to track my mileage and pace, but it ended up recording my poem. Later when I checked the text, I discovered some funny misinterpretations. “High in the sky” became “Pie-in-the-sky.” “Workday” became “birthday.” The words didn’t really work with the poem I was trying to speak-write, but I had to smile at the idiosyncrasies of language.
After I worked on it, the poem became a grossblank, 12 lines with 12 syllables.

If you want to study the skeletons of frogs,
take a walk after the storm when the sun comes up.
Listen to the mockingbird song, high-pitched grating
like fingernails on the chalkboard. I walk the path
of the fallen limbs and clustered puddles of leaves.
We are washed yet still unclean. New day sun breaks
deepening the green, solid, and strong earth. Red spots
glitter after I glance at the spotlight. God’s eyes
peak through the ghost of a waning moon. Wren gathers
twigs for nesting, flutters off like a thief with goods.
No need for imagination here; all life breathes.
The beat of my footsteps become my prayer.

After a storm, resurrection fern fluffs up and becomes a green blanket on the live oaks.

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