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Posts Tagged ‘sunflowers’

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Ring of Fire Sunflowers, photo by Margaret Simon

My daughters packed their cars, their dogs, a toddler and returned to New Orleans on Saturday. The house was cavernous and quiet. I needed to do something for myself or I knew I would sink into the sofa and sulk.

Petite Anse Farm advertised a cut-your-own-bucket-of-flowers weekend. On Sunday morning, I grabbed my coffee and smoothie and hit the road. The farm of beautiful Jennifer and handsome Andrew Graycheck is about 8 miles south of town. I was greeted by Georgia, their Australian Shepherd and Lorelei, their 5 year old.

Lorelei helps me choose the best zinnias. Their stems need to be strong and not springy.

In the warming breeze, I set out with a bucket of water and clippers. I stopped to take photos. I took Lorelei’s picture, and she took mine. She also helped me choose the best stems to fill my bucket.

Photo by Jennifer Graycheck with my phone. She’s a fine art photographer and gave me some great pointers for using “portrait mode.”

When I checked out with Jennifer, I asked, “What am I going to do with all these flowers?”

“Give them to the people you love!”

At home I gathered jars and vases and cut the stems again to place in arrangements. After lunch, I set out to deliver flowers.

My friend (and my husband’s cousin) Annie has been called as a priest for our church. She is the first female priest in charge for the Episcopal Church of the Epiphany in its 165 year history. I wrote an article for our local newspaper about her. You can read it here. I stopped by to thank her for all the little things she is doing at our church to make it a stronger community of caring people.

Madre Annie Etheredge flashes her smile.

I made 4 more stops. It took me 2.5 hours because everyone was home and ready to visit. I caught up with friends and delivered a bit of joy in the process. Literally and figuratively filled up my bucket.

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Today is my 60th birthday. I gasp when I see that. Sixty years is a long time! I share my birthday with two sisters I met right here, connecting through blogging, Linda Mitchell and Julieanne Harmatz. Happy Birthday to you, too!

This week’s photo is a fun one. I found it on Instagram, posted by Trina Bartel, another fellow blogger. She tells me it was taken at Bergsbaken Farms in Wisconsin.

(The photo) is from a sunflower farm in a tiny town in Cecil, WI (NE WI). It’s a huge field of sunflowers that you can visit for a suggested donation of 2 dollars each. There are props (like the bike) that you can take photos with. The bike is on the edge of a huge sunflower field. It is at the entrance. This sunflower farm is about 3-4 years old. I believe it was created as a way to generate money for a struggling family farm.

Trina Bartel (click to follow on Instagram)
Blue bike on Sunflower Farm by Trina Bartel

A bouquet of sunflowers
in a basket just for you
sing “Happy Birthday!”

Margaret Simon, draft

Please join me today by writing a small poem in the comments. Try to respond to others with encouraging words. Thanks for being here. I love you all!

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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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