Tag Archives: writing

Exuberant Garden Offerings

Almost any garden, if you see it at just the right moment,

can be confused with paradise.

                                                                                                  ~Henry Mitchell

treasured gift

Gardens often are a source of inspiration for those who work the soil and tend the plantings, as well as for those who visit. There is such a deep, innate connection and love of nature for most of us. Do you feel that way?

Diane, a local poet extraordinaire, visits Rose Cottage on a late afternoon for a stroll amongst the early fall garden beds. The gardens at Rose Cottage are simple country gardens . . . and wax and wane dependent upon the weather and wildlife.

Old garden with stone bird bath FAV

Elizabeth joins us for tea and berries in the garden, too. She is an amazing gardener. Will you join us? There is so much to share . . .  The three of us laugh, talk and are frequently in our own thoughts as we are mesmorized by the exquisite lighting in the garden.

Fra Dagmar Hastrop FAV

The sun sinks low behind the trees and hills. The gardens glimmer in jewel tones while song birds sing from the tops of the white pine, red cedar and basswood. The leaves of the quaking aspen rustle in the soft southern breeze. The heady, unmistakable  fragrance of heirloom roses fills the air. Breathless.

Petunia Double Pink FAV

It is one of those times were magic abounds in the garden. . . our hearts sing with the beauty of the moment. . . our spirits are filled with peace and exuberance all at once. It feels like paradise . . .

Bird with a Broken Wing FAV

the heart sings in poetry

 A few days following our dreamy late afternoon in the garden, Diane is eager to meet. She hands me a sealed envelope. “It is my gift to you. After visiting Rose Cottage, I couldn’t sleep until I wrote what was in my heart and on my mind.” This is what she penned . . .

Light Play

In the garden of Debbykay (almost Monet)

In the village of Afton (almost Giverney),

We cannot even see Elizabeth’s hat,

One of the straw varieties reserved

For outings such as these,

Until she backs out, fanny first,

From the forest of tomato vines

Where she picks the still-warm

Exuberant offerings of late August.

 

Rub and sniff, fingers filled with pineapple sage,

Punctuations of pleasure that dart and surprise

Displacing the butterfly-bee rondelets, garden opera,

With botanical poetry from seed catalogues, we are

Divas in the moment when shimmer meets shadow.

This one’s and that one’s version

Of gardens known, imagined, want to be,

Would be if we were a bee (or a butterfly),

Revelers dancing in the sparkle of sunspray.

                                                     ~Diane Pecoraro

Pink Dahlia FAV

Diane’s poetry is an amazing gift. It is truly humbling to realize that our simple little parcel of land that we tend inspires another. Diane’s generosity is encouraging on days when it is easy to be discouraged and weary. Her poetry is a reminder of the brief glimpse, as if through a small crack in a window, of paradise captured on a spectacular early fall eve at Rose Cottage.

What inspires you about gardens you visit or tend? 

 

Stroll over to A Southern Daydreamer to see how others are enjoying the early days of autumn outdoors, and visit Melissa at The Inspired Room and Julia at Hooked on Houses.

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Mailer’s Malady

a postscript note to Valentines

I have to come “clean.” I am afflicted with with a deep-seated disorder–“Mailer’s Malady!” Never heard of it you say? Maybe, you have it too? Mailer’s Malady affects everyone–men, women and children, young and old and rural or urban dwellers. Mailer’s Malady knows no boundaries, and it can lurk anywhere.

Vintage Sealing Wax and a Red Rose

Vintage Sealing Wax and a Red Rose

The symptoms are unmistakeable and emerge throughout the year. Although, there are certain times of year the symptoms are more evident and difficult to conceal, such as Christmas and other celebratory days. 

Inside one of the drawers of my beloved Grandmother’s secretary is additional evidence of the ailment: stacks of the most amazingly beautiful cards and stationary carefully selected and purchased to pen off words to those I love and care about. Some of the pigeon holes in the desks even have addressed cards and notes in sealed envelopes with 21 cent stamps. How long ago was that?! Yes, at one time 21 cent stamps were in vogue and used by some!

There are gentle reminders around Rose Cottage patiently telling me to post a little note to someone dear every time I pass them throughout the day.

Victorian Paper Mache Writer's Desk (c.1880)

Victorian Paper Mache Writer's Desk (c.1880)

 A lovely Victorian paper mache writer’s desk with delicate inlaid mother of pearl encourages me every morning and evening…but I look the other way and the confounding malady afflicts its grip on me once again. 

Tucked inside a well-worn address book are words of wisdom from the past to encourage me to overcome this desperate condition. The words confront some conceivable reasons for not writing…

Time…

“A letter not be long to be welcome.” ~Emily Post

“A line is enough for memory.” ~Old autograph album

Money…

“Good words are worth much, and cost little.” ~Geroge Herbert

Not sure what to say…

“I can no other answer make but thanks, and thanks, and ever thanks.” ~William Shakespeare

“Begin at the beinning, go on until you have finished, and then stop.” ~Anonymous

however…

“Love in a letter endures forever in our memories.” ~Emily Post

and

“Blessed be letters–they are the monitors, they are also the comforters, and they are the only true heart-talkers.” ~Donald Grant

Today, I resolve to send a long-overdue note to a friend

who has been on my mind…after I find some stamps!

Will you send me a comment below and let me know what you think?

Will you send me a comment below and let me know what you think?

 

 

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Filed under Family, Home, Vintage