I correspond regularly with one of my cousins from Illinois. We grew up in the same community, went to the same school, and know/knew many of the same people. She was ahead of me in school by a few years and was settled nicely, raising three beautiful daughters by the time I was in high school. Her grandfather and my grandfather were brothers. Gail is multitalented and I am amazed at what catches her attention, and how she executes each idea into a delightful outcome.
One of the things we have in common is the limitless boundaries of nature. In an email from April 2011, she covered an array of particulars that had kept her busy. It was full of images, the use of sensory and visual detail, and what a poet might say, “tangible particulars”. I was struck by all these and more, and took her email, reformatting and adding very few modifications to read as a prose poem. Celebrate April with us!
Although I have many things to do
I would rather write to you.
It is raining down and my noodles limply hang,
‘tis, not a good drying day I’m afraid.
A new cottage garden awaits my imagination
with a circle that ends under the Red Bud tree.
Hostas will be moved and ferns from the woods
will drift alongside in the morning and afternoon shadows.
The sunny spots shall sport two red, one white Astilbe and
a Blue Cardinal.
Foxglove is nestled into the ground and their long-time
friend, Delphinium, invited new visitors from Alaska–a
wild seed flower will join this warm weather chorus of color.
Divisions of Loose-leaf and Coneflowers galore
and friendly Columbine waving in the spring breeze.
A trek up a cemetery hill folded in a clump of Dwarf Blue Flags
and the tiniest, petite Irises I have ever seen!
Strawberries are mad with bloom and bright green
stems of asparagus await our family dinner table.
My mind drifts to alternating rows of tulips and azaleas
and a little treasure I plan to someday capture—Persian Buttercup
that I discovered at the Botanical Gardens in St. Louis. Makes
me wonder if Grandmother Lois was as charmed as I at this one
huge white blossom on such a small plant.
The rain has now let up and my country garden beckons.
Noodles can wait as I grab my trowel to sink my hands
into the soil and allow my knees to dampen from this
lush morning of window gazing.