Dig In With Pen or Trowel

 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!

Many Things

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.

4 thoughts on “Dig In With Pen or Trowel

  1. You are welcome and correct on family writers. Some call themselves ‘doodlers’.

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