Midsummer ~ In the Marina

South Shore Harbor Marina ~ League City, Texas

 

bubbling and eager
water ascends to the sky
seeking perspective

 

 

The metallic drone of cicadas; desiccated and drooping crops; fish sinking toward cooler water even as rising temperatures slow life’s pace for body and mind: such is the arrival of midsummer on the Texas coast.

It’s a season suited for lighter fare, and so I’m offering a small series of images matched with poetry: tokens of a season I love.

Both the photo and haiku are mine.


Comments are welcome, always
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Published in: on July 30, 2015 at 9:19 pm  Comments (61)  
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Midsummer ~ In Matagorda

Saharan Dust Shrouding Matagorda, Texas

 

oasis of light
a susurration of palms
caravansary

 

 

The metallic drone of cicadas; desiccated and drooping crops; fish sinking toward cooler water even as rising temperatures slow life’s pace for body and mind: such is the arrival of midsummer on the Texas coast.

It’s a season suited for lighter fare, and so I’m offering a small series of images matched with poetry: tokens of a season I love.

Both the photo and haiku are mine.


Comments are welcome, always
.
Published in: on July 26, 2015 at 10:27 am  Comments (86)  
Tags: , , , , , ,

Stems Fit For Van Gogh’s Vase

Still Life: Vase with 15 sunflowers ~ Vincent Van Gogh, 1888

Everyone likes to spruce up their home before special friends come to visit, and it seems Vincent van Gogh was no exception.

Anticipating the arrival in Arles of his friend, Paul Gauguin, Van Gogh clearly was hoping to impress. In an August, 1888 letter to Emile Bernard, Van Gogh wrote:

I’m thinking of decorating my studio with half a dozen paintings of Sunflowers. A decoration in which harsh or broken yellows will burst against various blue backgrounds, from the palest Veronese to royal blue,  framed with thin laths painted in orange lead. Sorts of effects of stained-glass windows of a Gothic church.

Contemplating the space which he and Gauguin would share, Van Gogh grew even more enthusiastic. Another August letter, to his brother Theo, conveys his excitement:
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Published in: on July 19, 2015 at 8:44 am  Comments (91)  
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Camping Out By the River Called Time

As the heat rises and summer torpor overtakes the land, a small fleet of Sunfish, Optis, and Lasers splashes its way into Galveston Bay. Sailing camps are in session, and even the smallest skippers are eager to begin tacking their way toward competence.

From my vantage point on the dock, I watch and smile. Older campers look and act like any other group of teens. Studies in calculated cool, their swagger might seem a little too self-aware, but there’s no mistaking the meaning of the jostling and sideways glances that mark their passage through the week. They’re as interested in the social seas surrounding them as they are in the waters of the Bay, and they’re learning to navigate both. (more…)

Intruders in the Dust


Unbidden, unwished-for, they appear: blossoms and tendrils alike awash in sunlight and rain — growing, grasping, greedily seeking to establish themselves in territory reserved for another.
Intruder, thy name is Weed.

As the eldest son of Swedish immigrant parents who met and married in this country, my father surely didn’t teach me the verse. It’s even less likely that my grandparents introduced me to it.  Perhaps I heard the bit of faux-history-in-a-ditty on a playground, or from one of the Norwegians in town who wasn’t averse to a bit of ethnic humor.

But, in truth? I probably learned it from my mother. She never criticized my grandmother — her mother-in-law — openly. Still, a certain tension flared between them occasionally, obvious enough in retrospect to make me believe that a slightly peeved daughter-in-law just might have introduced her own daughter to this bit of oblique commentary on Swedish national character.
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