in fall of life

Invited into lovely white farmhouse one September morning, we gather around dining room table set with china, candles, fresh flowers. Vintage prints frame one wall; shelves of antique clocks tick in corner. It’s coffee/tea time, whichever you prefer, complemented by dainty pastries, breads, and berries passed around full circle of women.

Miguela, our gregarious hostess, immigrated years ago as new bride from the Philippines. “Jellie’s” friend secretly submitted her profile to newspaper “dating” column…lonely Iowa farmer responded. Within year of written correspondence and phone calls, she was charmed and they were married. A long distance romance blossomed… eventually seeding two children.

After tea, we admire Jellie’s flowers which surround the house with blooms all summer long. She apologizes the gardens are past prime but plenty of flowers still beckon us. Hydrangeas, zinnias, roses, and exotic Asian plants attract butterflies and hummingbirds.

* * * * *

seven hummingbirds

with green caps and ruby throats

flit among feeders


Later, we spill out of two cars with smiles and laughter into warm autumn afternoon. Clutch of classy lassies has enjoyed monthly outings for twenty-five years; in fact, our charter member planned today’s field trip. Our fun fashion of red hats and purple t-shirts glitter with glam in the autumn sunshine.

Mary, experienced tour guide with a teacher’s heart, shows us around Lakeside Laboratory campus on West Lake Okoboji. The outdoor lab, founded in 1909 covers one hundred forty-seven acres of woods, prairie, wetlands, and shoreline. Dr. Thomas Macbride, University of Iowa, established lab for “the study of nature in nature.”

We hike hilly circuit of beautiful old stone buildings constructed during depression era by Civilian Conservation Corps. Summer students have finished research projects, leaving behind hip boots, fish nets, test tubes and empty hallways. Acorns from ubiquitous oak trees drop and roll off roofs and onto walking paths.

* * * * *

hundred year old oak

rooted strong, gnarly, ancient

acorn in pocket

______________

Haibuns served at dVerse Poets pub with Mish hosting!

Charlie Kirk (9-10-25)

It’s time to ask tough questions (Charlie did). What dangerous lies twist an assassin’s mind to violence? Do we have the moral fortitude to collectively stand against existential threats? Do we tolerate everything or speak truth in love?

Our country, founded on freedom of religion and freedom of speech, stands to lose both. We have witnessed the public death of a Christian martyr whose name means “free man” and “strong church.” May the church repent of apathy and arise with bold faith.

mournful bagpipes play

strong voice of reason silenced

his widow forgives

not all that gleams is gold…

Our Alaskan adventure takes us into the heart of gold fever country from the Klondike in Yukon territory to Cripple Creek, the richest little creek in Alaska. We learn about the steep ice stairs of Chilkoot Pass where miners hauled up loads of grubsteak (each man with a year’s worth of food). Only a few struck it rich while most were flat broke within a year or two.

We tour Fairbank’s Gold Dredge #8 and pan for gold. Between the two of us, we share sweet $16 worth of gold flecks (and spend it on a $24 souvenir charm/magnet to display the flakes). Nothing new under the sun! They can keep their gold nuggets while I bask in the allure of silver…

silver rain puddles

flow in rivulets, cascade

to moon-mirror lake


Linking to dVerse where Frank Tassone hosts haibuns 🙂

momento mori

Tillie slumps in her wheelchair under hand-stitched patchwork for warmth. She’s shrunk with age, both body and mind. She stares, emotionally flat…until they place young grandson on her lap. They sing “Jesus Loves Me” off-key together and watch little birds chirp behind glass.

Eight years of Alzheimer’s…enough for anyone to suffer this long goodbye. Her breathing shallows as family gathers round. Last grandson arrives as they hold matriarch’s cool-veined hands in prayer. She quietly exhales one final breath after family members murmur, “Amen.”

lap quilt for keepsake

her once sharp eyes, now shadowed

trust we’ll meet again

Haibun on “momento Mori” linked to dVerse poets where Frank Tassone hosts pub for Memorial Day.

prognostications

Yes, the calendar says that February 2 is Groundhog’s Day. So what’s that to me? I may be a German groundhog but I am NOT getting up for any festivities, especially for Candlemas. I must finish hibernating and am feeling all tuckered out…now please, just let me sleep!

What in tarnation is all that commotion atop my burrow? Stop ringing that #punxsutawney% bell up there! I thought Gobbler’s Knob was a peaceful neighborhood but it’s gone to the prairie dogs, I say. There’s no shadow of a doubt, I’ve had my phil of winter in these parts already!

winter’s soft shadow

falls upon snowy landscape

seek comfort of hearth


Frank hosts haibuns at dVerse poets in observance of Groundhog’s Day…

hold the gift

My parents’ brought me a treasured gift from their memorable trip to Israel; hand-carved and sold by Palestinian Christians in Bethlehem. This small olive wood creche features the humble family of three under a dazzling star flourish over the stark stable. An angel bears “Gloria” banner with song from above while earthy shepherd watches from behind fir tree. Sentinel sheep guard the vulnerable Lamb of God.

Of course, I want the grandkids to touch and experience the texture of that biblical first Christmas; to be able to hold a bit of awe in their little hands. But I also feel protective, maybe even possessive of the delicate creche; this irreplaceable gift of Christmas. So I purchase a children’s version of stable with plastic figures they can move around, put in mouth, or drop.

Hopefully, we do not cheapen the real story in our efforts to make it accessible.

creches around world
all nations will worship him
Jesus has first place

all fall down

Every fall, our family visits Oak Grove, a nearby park on the Sioux River. It covers five hundred plus acres of combined state and county conservation land with hiking trails, picnic areas, cabins and campsites. We park on top of the ridge and find a trail through the scrub oak trees to slowly make our way down to the river bottom.

The river flooded this past summer, changing the landscape. Sand and debris washed into the woodland, excavator tracks show where dirt has been redistributed and re-leveled. Ancient outcroppings of rose-tinted Sioux quartzite remain solidly undisturbed along the upper trail.

Reaching up, young cottonwoods glow golden in late afternoon. Scarlet sumac stunningly line the prairie grassland. The predominant oaks simply turn brown and drop large lobed leaves on the trail below their gnarly trunks. A few spruce and juniper stand green and ever verdant.

leaves blanket steep trail
hiker’s step crunches, slides on
dry patterns fallen

equinox musings

We retired from full-time farming two years ago. My days are a bit slower now but my husband has been equally as busy as before with home remodel and landscaping. I help him as needed, babysit grandchildren when asked, and volunteer…finding a balance of work and leisure time.

The fall equinox in our hemisphere means equal hours of day and night. We enjoy equal parts cold and heat as sun shines brightly during the day but not as strongly. On my walk, I notice the prairie seems equally dead and alive…some plants bloom wildly in a last hurrah and others have dried brown, boasting seeds.

We reap what we sow and sow what we reap. The past holds seed for a future harvest. Darkness and light, cold and heat, planting and harvest, rest and work, life and death all have their seasons. The clock ticks, the calendar page turns, and another equinox passes.

milkweed pods burst silk

tiny seeds carried away

future monarch’s food

applesauce days

As children, we used to pick tart green apples from the lone fruit tree in our city backyard and peel using a paring knife…slow, careful, deliberate and then slice into chunks by hand to cook. Mom filled glass quart jars and vacuum sealed them in the pressure canner.

As adults, we pick ripe red apples from tree of choice in farm orchard and use a mechanical peeler…set apple on spikes to hold in place, turn handle quickly to create curls of peelings, then remove naked fruit, already sliced. We cut, cook, cool, and spoon into freezer containers.

Family comes together to make applesauce memories in season…working to process the produce, we’ll savor the flavor the rest of the year. Counting filled jars or quart containers is pure satisfaction.

cinnamon sugared
pick, peel, core, slice, cook slowly
chunky applesauce

mono no aware

Mono no aware is not only “a Japanese idiom for the awareness of … the transience of things.” It’s a paradigm through which the Japanese view life. Linking this haibun to dVerse where Frank hosts.


Neighborhood cats chase one another through backyards, loudly caterwauling in the night. Five interested toms follow one breathless tabby who flees under the deck. Food dish is ignored in this spring mating frenzy. Once she’s bred, hormones calm, kittens develop and toms slink away.

Lilacs bud in May, one of the first blossoms to appear. The tight buds open to a thousand tiny flowerets, blooming in bunches of profligate purple display. The delicate scent of each cluster concentrates on fragrant breezes. After a few days, the heads wither and flowers fall.

Young couple speaks wedding vows on sunny May day. The bride wears sleeveless lace gown with tiny corseted waist and magnificent hoop skirt. A fingertip veil, lacey wristlets, and ballet flats complete her bridal finery. She dies of asthma complications a month past their 4th anniversary.

brief season of life
actors pass across the stage
cherish spring vignettes

photo by lynn__

caretaker

free image from pexels-pixabay

My friend Marie is a force of and for nature. She’s come by her fierce soul honestly, through the trauma of living with, not one but two, abusive husbands consecutively; and losing an adult son to hit and run. She’s seen her share of suffering and grief. Yet, she cares about others and about the earth, our home. It hurts her to see people trash it.

She encourages everyone who will listen to recycle. When I lived on the farm (where we burned our own garbage) Marie accepted all my empty milk jugs and other plastics to put in recyclables bin in town. Now I live close to town and bring in our recyclables myself, including cardboard and glass. That makes Marie proud.

Marie picks up trash while on our walks and checks garbage cans for plastic bottles within reach. Sometimes her little car is full of bags of materials to be recycled. It’s almost a part-time job for her, now in her seventies. She may be small but she has a big heart and faith. She believes we must take better care of God’s beautiful world.

earth’s creatures fragile
plastic rings can suffocate
choking on our trash


Written for Earth Day 2024, “Planet vs. Plastics” theme and linked to dVerse poets where Frank hosts haibuns.

equilibrium

The Creator precisely designs and tunes the cosmos so that twice yearly the plane of the earth’s equator bisects the sun which means day and night are in perfect balance. The solar system moves with exact timing, aligned in an intricate celestial dance.

At county fair, teams of horses pull wagons in outdoor arena. Harnessed together, two powerful animals work together in perfect harmony. A white and black team, Daisy & Midnight, are trained to trot around ring in rhythmic synchronization, bells jingling.

Sun and moon mark time on earth, ushering in four seasons in turn. As plants soak in every available ray of sun, equinox signals leaves to bud with new life or dry to die; coloring our world. Our lives cycle through the months, years and seasons.

rhythm of planets

~  metes elliptical orbits  ~

sky music of spheres

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