L'aura del Campo

Flowers, Flower, Duck, Frog, Poppies.

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panthera

L'aura del campo

WINTER: 13 Mulk (19 February) 57º and sunny; snow is melting.

'é a lua, é a lua, na quintana dos mortos'
♣ Federico García Lorca ♣

Flowers

After looking at books on Peonies by Allan Rogers (A local horticulturalist, Bigger, develop a beautiful red cultivar know as 'Kansas') and the Reader's Digest tome on wildflowers (I think my favorite weed as a child was the scarlet pimpernel, Anagallis arvensis and the photos in 'One Hundred Flowers' by Harold Feinstein ... I think maybe I need some flower catalogs and write more about flowers and gardening. Afterall, I started my garden at 9 and accidentally killed my first sunflower by sitting on it. The trauma ...

Flower

♥Flower♥ mentioned a couple times now about moving to Emporia. It is a place I have felt good about for some time. The school there is excellent for library and informational science and even has a degree in writing (BFA). It's a typical small Kansas town of 30,000 between Kansas City and Wichita, Topeka and Tulsa. It sits on the edge of the wide open grasslands of the Flint Hills, which entice me and calm me. As a college town there is a more diverse population than most places in Kansas. Here it is foreign students and Native Americans; there it will be assorted Hispanics. Ya hablo castellano y me alegro saber eso. Otro dialectos, por supuesto, pero eso no me importa.

So ... last night I dreamed of Emporia ...



Emporia in springtime when the redbud blooms.

Me, my friends and my family

My mom's fine; Karen's mom had a stroke; Tom's mom died. And of course there are those who will soon give birth ...

My ribs are still sore. I've had to warn friends that I am not in the mood to play. You would think grown-ups would understand .

I need the sun! So, I slept in and read ... which means I need to post this and take a bath (no shower until my ribs heal) and catch some rays. I'm sitting by the french doors looking out and wishing I were out there.

IMAGES and RAMBLINGS

Warmth; the spears of daffodils and crocuses; over baked biscuits, kinda like melba toast; puddles in the playground; runnels of water everywhere; at Solidaity, the anarchist's calendar of nudes - Toni au natural, John with his clothes on; clear blue sky; fresh wound of a cut sycamore limb, greenish bark; coughing in the cafe; Leighton's red eyes.

Prompts: Katherine Whiteside in Antique flowers tells us about old fashion names for varieties of pansies: tickle-me-fancy, love-in-idleness, meet-her-in-the-entry-kiss-her-in-the-buttery. Plenty of prompts in names of flowers.

WATT'S GNU!

There are beginnings and endings and the Wheel of Life goes round. First there is a report of a duck with 4 legs. Then there is the report of an ancient frog encased in amber. Both speak to wonderment. As humans with finite understanding these events make us question our assumptions about life and death. They are minor articles, of course, but still I thought someone here might find them as interesting as I do.

duck: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070218/ap_on_fe_st/four_legged_duck

frog: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070217/ap_on_sc/mexico_frog_in_amber

So much stays the same over millennia; so much changes within one moment.



The weather has been Spring-like. We'll get a week of this and want more and more. Is this the tease of false spring? or the death throes of winter?

READING

Finished Eye of the Storm by Marcia Muller. Started South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami. Still perusing the poems of David Kirby.

BLOGVILLE

Thanks to everyone who commented about blogging. Blogville is as friendly and supportive a community as we make it.

It dawned on me after reading zwisis's blog that my blog will become more interesting when I do. Part of that is doing interesting things. Right now I am somewhat limited by finances and energy levels. The lack of money may change this year. There is some hope on the far far horizon. As for energy levels? God only knows.

fields of war

white poppies of the morning
orange poppies at the eve
red poppies for their mourning
scattered petals of our grief

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 Kåre Enga

~ until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go. ~ Elizabeth Bishop, The Fish