August 1

Taking a summer vacation from haiku for a while...

Posted with Blogsy

July 31: Water Lily

A bird whose song I couldn't recognize was making noise outside my office this afternoon, so I wandered out with my binoculars to try and track it down. I never did see the bird, but I ended up at the river's edge surprised to realize that I hadn't been down there for a few months. Or at least, not recently enough to have remembered there were water lilies growing near the shore there--including one big white one in full bloom.

Water lily's beauty
amplified by the river
reflecting blue sky, clouds.

July 30: Hostas

Berries on cereal.
Hosta blossoms hum with bees.
So begins my day.

July 29: Hollyhocks

Maroon hollyhocks
along the weathered gray shed.
The past, always with us.

July 28: Long drive home

Husband at the wheel,

Red Sox on the radio

the whole drive, winning.

Posted with Blogsy

July 27: Grand Lake Stream

Spent the weekend Down East in interior Washington County, at Weatherby's sporting lodge in the lakeside hamlet of Grand Lake Stream. You get there after a 3-1/2-hour drive through very rural Maine which included a Passamaquoddy Indian reservation, torrential rains, and a flooded road on the route we took. This weekend was the GLS annual arts and crafts festival, a quality event that attracts people from miles around--so the tiny town of one store is suddenly abuzz with festival-goers overwhelming (and probably overlapping with) the usual crowd of fishermen and ATVers.

 

We stayed in a little cabin at Weatherby's. Saturday we visited friends at their camp tucked into the pines on the shore of West Grand Lake. We enjoyed an afternoon cocktail on their porch while listening to the sounds of the summer lake. The sky had cleared at last ,and the lake sparkled as we rode back to town in their classic square-sterned Grand Laker canoe, just in time for dinner together at the lodge.

 

Screen door's slam, slap of

flip-flops on dock, lake warm

under my trailing hand.

 

Posted with Blogsy

July 26: Short run in the morning rain

Still sore, short of breath,

but the soft summer rain

has washed my skin clean.

Posted with Blogsy