Tag Archives: flowers

HNBR: Part 4 of Day 4

On the back of the carriage seat we rode on through the Mackinac State Park, someone had placed an apt sticker. We knew what row we were in because of that.

We had 7 minutes to run over and look at this natural formation. The scientific reason for this phenomenon is erosion but the Indigenous story was much better. The beach down below was relatively quiet. It was quite a difference between the beaches in Portugal and Michigan’s. Our driver yelled Marco and we responded with Polo so we knew we had to get back to the tour.

I almost forgot this little beauty. At the butterfly conservatory, there was a terrarium out on the porch with a sign that read “Warning! Attack Turtle” only it was empty. We found out why when the guide at the Wings of Mackninac explained that she took this little tortise out with her when she went on lunchbreak so the newly found friend could enjoy a rich harvest of dandelions.

After we left the tour carriage, we walked down a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill, across from a large park, we found this church. The door was open. We agreed that going in as UU’s was rather obligatory. The hymns and readings were still up from Easter.

We found this directly across from the entrance. We took it seriously, quietly ushered ourselves in, sitting in a pew farthest from the door. A family was in there and the kids were making all sorts of uncorrected noise. After they left, we settled into the peace only to have two older women come in, sit at the back, and talk on their phones. We stayed until we’d looked up the hymns and readings.

Water dancing on the haint blue ceiling. Jen and I were lightly surprised to see such a cajun tradition carried on that far north.

For some reason, there are two signs for the Mackinac State Harbor. We got pictures of both.

I’m vibing with the wooden version of the sign, what about you?

This is one of my favorite pictures of Jen because I was making her laugh so hard she was literally doubled over. I’m not even sure what I was saying to her, but it sure did get her giggler.

A gigantic lilac bush that smelled utterly pure.

A bit of VanGogh brought to you by the Detroit Institute of Arts. It was just hanging around on the harbor path.

Beauty comes in so many subjective forms. These pretties were just hanging out in a field of grass we walked through.

I’m pointing to the seal and the letter M because…Mare.

The view from our room at the Cedar Hill Lodge.

A Royal Visit

Persephone

The blistering wind whistled ice upon my cheeks

the dreary, newsprint colored mountains of labored snow

tower dominion over belching, exhausted cars and trucks

I trudge in divots of icy footprints, slick with travel

As I step from the shade of the building into the lemon sun

Persephone, Queen of the Underworld, Daughter of Spring

illuminates the air in floral scented bursts of joy

She paused, face down-turned as she adjusted her boots.

Her pink-champagne hair refracting the prismatic light

She lifted her face reverently, flowers flowing from her fingers

falling from her shoulders in graceful cascades as

She stripped off winter to tie it around her waist.

She caught me staring, I hadn’t realized I’d stopped.

She grinned unabashedly as I bowed my head to her.

She strolled past me with the confidence of royalty

i bowed as lilacs trailed behind her.

The Redolent Hummingbird

A hum of honeyed gifts

Flutter-flying delicacy

On a hovering whisper

Of nectar filled breezes

Uplifted by psychedelicacies

That tilt lustily to paint

The tender tongued promises

of tiny quilt colored avians

Releasing their tasty philanthropy

Of sensual blossoms to the skies

Serenade of the trees

Wedgewood Park Afternoon

Wedgewood Park Afternoon

Through all my youth I didn’t learn the language of the trees

I couldn’t hear the words to the poetic songs they would sing for me

When I became still enough to listen to the music of the earth

I learned of transformation, regeneration, and rebirth.

What I didn’t know, while true to my childish indiscretions,

were the many truths I’d learned from them, the many rough hewn lessons.

My roots ran deeply through rocky soil, building bridges of emotional gaps

My branches raised up high with deep green leaves fed by spirit’s sap

I was taught the ancient tongues of the oak, elm, maple, birch,

embraced in laughing drumming beats the circumference of my worth

I am a child of the forests, although youth I can no longer claim

I will honor my tree kin’s body; their face; until the earth embraces me again.

“Miss Marge’s Cat”

When I took Miss Marge Swenson on our date, we had a conversation. I tried to pawn my last kitten off on her. She said, “At this stage in my life it wouldn’t be fair to bring a cat into my home. I sure do miss having a cat.” She’s 93 and that was a valid, although sad, argument, it was sound of logic.

We talked a bit more and I found out her favorite color is purple. It used to be blue, but for some reason, she explained, it’d changed to purple. I immediately decided to paint her a cat.

When she saw the painting for the first time, she immediately named the purple cat, “Mr. B.” because that was the name of her friend. It absolutely delighted me to see her aglow with joy. I don’t think it gets any better.

In the small painting in the background, I filled that with four other paintings before I stopped myself and asked how I feel when I see Miss Marge. I see her as a breath of fresh air as if I were standing on a mountain on a clear sunny day in the early spring with maybe a suspicion of rain hanging in the air but not enough to feel any kind of muggy. As soon as I thought that, I saw it and painted it.

I liked the squishy flowers because I wanted them to represent the four Sunday’s in a month (sometimes five) when I get to see my Always Beautiful friend, Marge Swenson.

This took me to this, the 5th try, before I got it right in my head.

This took me to this, the 5th try, before I got it right in my head.

The contrasts were some of my favorites. Don't hate on my leaves.

The contrasts were some of my favorites. Don’t hate on my leaves.

I love warms and cools together. It feels rich and lively to me.

I love warms and cools together. It feels rich and lively to me.

Miss Marge will always have comfortable slippers to wear on this stage in life.

Miss Marge will always have comfortable slippers to wear on this stage in life.

Miss Marge's Cat Mare Martell Acrylic on Board 16X20

Miss Marge’s Cat
Mare Martell
Acrylic on Board
16X20

Winter Daisy

My dear friend Miss Sharon Crane gifted me with a little solar powered daisy that dances in the sunlight. I put it in the window that I stare out when I’m writing. All day long, each time the movement catches my eye, it’s made me smile. I wrote a short little poem about it.

Miss Sharon Crane's gift to me brightened my winter scenery.

Miss Sharon Crane’s gift to me brightened my winter scenery.