Autumn Retreat Day 11

Carpe Diem's Autumn Retreat 2018 Love 

Day  11 Autumn Retreat 2018  Love Eternal

golden pond

a pair of swans 

preening

Thursday, October 25, 2018

Autumn Retreat Day 10

Carpe Diem's Autumn Retreat 2018 Love 

Day  10 Autumn Retreat 2018  Love Eternal

lonely cry of geese

rends the autumn sky

love’s eternal sleep

Skating

Carpe Diem #628, ice skating

I remember my mother’s white ice skates, with there sharp silver blades as a thing of fascination.  My feet still not big enough to fill her shoes.  My memory only recalls seeing my mother skate one time.  We were in Virginia at the time.  My mother took all six of us to a frozen lake.  I still remember how she tested the ice and her warnings about the darkened ice.  She wore a white wool coat with a black furry trim around the hood.  She gracefully skated over the ice, pulling us two at a time on a round silver sleigh.  I ran after her in my red rubber boots, the snow on the ice crunching.  There was no polished ice surface, bright lights or shimmery costumes.  But to me this bundled figure was the most glamorous I had ever seen.  The bumpy ice beneath my feet and the slight spray from the sled on my face and my determination to catch her and become beautiful and graceful fond memories of a cold afternoon.

boot tapping pond edge

large stone hefted on the surface

testing ice thickness

Silver Creek - Richmond, Kentucky
 (do not have a picture of the skating event except in my mind.  This is a photo taken years later on an icy creek.)

graceful ice-skater

glides over the frozen lake

pulling child in sled

Mountain Cabin

Carpe Diem #626 Mountain Cabin

It’s been just shy of thirty years since I’ve been in a mountain cabin.  Although nothing would suit me better for my idea of a perfect vacation.  I love the woods and mountain air, being out in nature with no TV, radio or even phone.  That perfect trip ruined by my sorrow. I had married Dr. Jeckle, but awoke to Mr. Hyde.  How could a person change so dramatically  overnight.  How could such a beautiful setting be blurred by so many tears.  Although, it took me only one day to realize my biggest mistake, it took me five years and two children to gain the strength to walk away.  Since then I prefer tent camping.  No room for extra baggage.   (Side note: I have spent the past 21 years married to a wonderful man, who unfortunately is not a hiker or camper.)

quaint mountain cabin

steady flow of water

river and me 

_

dapple sunlight
spills on the cabin floor
earth fragrances dance

First Snow

Carpe Diem Time Glass #13,  First Snow

The first snow a surprise, much earlier than expected.  There were no phone calls telling of closed schools - you retired this year.  There were no delighted squeals or racing feet above our heads.  The boy’s long grown, our daughter recently in college.  The first snow came quietly, and the solitude stayed.  The only footprints, mine and that of the devil raccoon, back to steal another suet feeder.  My garden blossoms dusted in white and ice.  I cut a rose and bring it in for the breakfast table.  Our love not yet grown cold.

garden roses

weighted heads tipped

first snow

Winter Moons

Carpe Diem # 619 Oak Moon

If you have ever consulted the Farmer’s Almanac, you would find many names for the full moon.  Many of the names come from the different indian tribes in North America. Each season has different full moon names as well as each month.  The moons during the winter are from the December solstice to the March equinox.  There is also a blue moon, when two full moon’s occur during one month.  The next winter blue moon is in January 2018.  For my haiku, I also included the November moon since we often have frost and snow in November.

November - beaver moon, frost moon

flurry of activity

reinforcement of dams

beaver moon

December - cold moon, oak moon, long night moon

first snowflakes

glisten in the air

under the oak moon

coldness and dark

settle between us

long night moon

January - wolf moon, ice moon, old moon, moon after yule

ice moon rises

howling wolves 

lament

February - snow moon, storm moon, hunger moon, crow moon, lenten moon

storm moon hangs

in snow covered branches

ice crackles

March - worm moon, chaste moon, death moon, sap moon, crust moon

slushy days

during the worm moon

frozen nights

winter’s thaw

refrozen hearts

the crust moon

Rainbows

Carpe Diem time glass # 11 Rainbow

Looking up information and folklore about the rainbow,  I found many diverse stories.  The most familiar in the US are probably that of God's promise not to destroy the world in flood and that of the Irish pot of gold at the rainbow's end.  Many see the rainbow as good and some as a bad omen. Amazonians shut their mouths to keep out disease,  ancient arabians thought it was a tapestry woven by the south wind.  Bulgarian legends feel if you walk below the rainbow you will change gender, at least in your way of thinking.   The haiku are not as strong as I would have liked but they should share a little rainbow lore.

Chinese folktale of Hsienpo and Yingt’ai: 

star crossed lovers

await rainbows appearance

to be together

Buddhist: 

highest accomplishment

conscious and desire extinguished

rainbow body

Navajo:

Navajo brave

rides the multicolored serpent

receiving guidance

Nicaragua:

parents hide children

fear they may look or point

rainbow curse

Karen’s of Burma:

painted dragon

devours children

the rainbow

Celtic:

love making

under the rainbow

fertility assured

Josephine Wall

Greek goddess Iris:

Iris on golden wings

leads the dead

to Elysian fields

No stone to Set - Guardian Angel

Carpe Diem #606 - Guardian Angel

Warning - Haibun is sad so if you want skip to the haiku.  It is a rewriting of something from years ago.

NO STONE TO SET

Aimlessly wandering the world a blur a mother's grief unrelenting.  I find myself in an old cemetery
searching for a grave I couldn't bear to face in 20 years. Yet, I come having no other place.  He was in the Catholic section, wherever that was.  I run my hands over cold marble, tracing my finger in the carved letters.  Finally in a back corner a statue of the virgin mother, the grass overgrown.  I search, search for a lamb.  I discover a small stone half covered; a tiny etched lamb.  Disappointed I pull a handful of grass "See I will not for get you I will hold you in the palm of my hand" plays over and over in my head.  I carefully tend the marker.  His was not the courage of the battlefield, but enemies fought within.  His bravery was of needles and bone marrow transplants.  The courage to smile through it all always thinking of others.  I could never be as brave as my brother.  Why did I end up here?  Time passing without reason.  I talk about my sons, changing denominations, rambling on...

At the end of my prattle I ask him to watch over my little one lost with no grave, no name. I hear his laughter echoing a sense of peace fills the air.  All fades I awaken, the morning light illuminating my room and I am bathed in some sense of contentment and sanity.

on the edge of dreams

guardian angels play

leaving footprints

hearts of sorrow
touched briefly
by angel wings

laughter
guardian angel’s
sweet kiss

Ligo Haibun Challenge "Guitar & Mountain"

Ligo Haibun Challenge "Guitar & Mountain"

It’s November again, another anniversary passing. 

unannounced flowers

left on the table

for me

Peace, Love, and Kill Western

I think back to the mountain valley where we meet.   Rival supporters for college football.  One dance with you sealed my fate.   You played your guitar and slid across the floor on your knees.  I tried to fix you up with my best friend who went to the same school as you.  She wasn’t interested in the least.  I was head over heels about you, but had a boyfriend.  

We dated for awhile.  I was too immature for a serious relationship, yet our friendship lingered.   Through all my broken relationships there was always you, your guitar and rock concerts.

mountains and valleys

strangers, music and guitars

and always you

Your proposal was bitter sweet. You came early in the evening and played with the boys.  You returned later with your guitar.  I was wrapped in blankets to keep warm and you kept singing love songs.  Finally feigning a headache, I went to the car in search of Tylenol.  I sat there and a mountain of tears flowed. We’d been dating about five years and had talk about marriage. School was beginning and with our teaching schedules, I knew we would not mention it again until summer.  I dried my tears and returned inside.  You were packing your guitar.  How my heart broke.  Standing in the door way you said, “How would you like to attend a wedding?” My answer a flippant “Well that depends on who’s wedding.”  I honestly did not know this was a proposal.

Since then we’ve climbed many of life's mountains together. And sometimes you still pick up your guitar and sing me love songs.

warm autumn

the mountain's song

still plays

Dusty Old Records

Ligo Haibun Challenge based on Jim Croce songs "Photographs and Memories""New York's Not My Home"

I sit in the empty house, sifting through old photographs, wondering if and when these times existed.  Tattered memorabilia, faded roses now brittle like my memories. Jim Croce keeps me company in my misery.  The people in these photos, strangers to my heart.  I cannot tell for sure if someone hasn’t switched them out ...can’t remember such happy times.  They look vaguely familiar, like old black and whites of distant relatives.  False memories you think you might remember because you’ve heard the stories time and again. Photographs and Memories plays and the verse “Morning walks and bedroom talks are how I loved you then” reminds me of how we use to read to each other, take long walks and talk.  Seems like a lifetime ago; sometime before we said, “I do,”  before Jekyll turned to Hyde.

I organize the photos pausing as the next album drops and Jim sings more to my pain. Tears spill and drop on the photo of you smiling.  The album so worn it sticks and repeats after “I gotta get out of here, I’m so alone”.  --so alone, so alone, so alone...  I pack up the memories, dust myself off, go for a walk, change my perspective.  At last I close up.the record player, pop in a tape and blast Ricky Lee Jones as I dance through my chores preparing for my children to return.  Now there is joy, I never will regret.

old photographs

static reminders

of past I cannot change

old vinyl records

pull on my heartstrings

another dusty rose

dusty photos

draw me into the past

but can’t hold my heart

The Great Bear Constellation

Carpe Diem Time Glass # 10 Great Bear

The great bear
roams the night sky - never setting
or finding rest

Their are many stories about the great bear, but one fact is that this constellation is always in view whether high or low in the sky.  I love the greek myth where Callisto, a virgin huntress falls in love with Zeus, bares his son Arcas, and is turned to a bear by Zeus’ jealous wife Hera.  Later, Callisto sees her son and raises her arms to embrace him.  Fearing for his life Arcas raises his bow to kill her.  Zeus saves her by turning her son into a small bear.  He supposedly grabbed them by the tail and hurtled them into the heavens for their protection.   Hera for her own triumph set them in the celestial hemisphere where they would wander never setting below the horizon.  Other myths link the bear to King Arthur, some say she is Artemis herself.  In China, the seven stars of the big dipper that form the bears back is the celestial home of the Lord on High.  The star Sirius is the heavenly wolf that guards the palace.

heaven’s watchman 
Sirius - guards the bridge
of the gatherer

The Great Bear roams
the celestial heavens
seeking hibernation

jealous gods
light the night sky
with fire and imagination

Kamishibai Extreme, Winter Feeling

Carpe Diem Kamishibai Extreme #1, Winter Feeling

Wickedly cold snowy day. You pose next to your first snowman in your favorite pink hat. My bare ears and fingers numb with cold.  We retreat from the weather with steaming mugs of hot cocoa.

snow falls silently

blanketing the garden bed

dreams waiting in darkness

~

white knight 

always rescues princess

from frost monster

Boneset - Scared Flower of Autumn

Carpe Diem # 600 Boneset

Our prompt is another of the seven sacred flowers of autumn - Boneset or  Fujbakama,  The Latin name is Eupatorium Japonicum. I found an American flowering herb called Boneset with the latin name Eupatorium Japonicum. Native Americans used Boneset as a medicinal herb.    Boneset or Thoroughwort is common in low meadows and damp ground in North Florida.  This slightly aromatic herb stands about 2-4 feet high.

indian maiden
harvesting Ague-weed
wind kissed hair

"A Dream Within a Dream"

Carpe Diem Ghost Writer #32, A Dream Within a Dream
This prompt was from Jen of Blog It or Lose It

I was inspired to write a haiku, a tanka, and a haibun

sound of my sobs

muffled in the crashing waves

my heart erased

~

sands of time held still

one last kiss upon your brow

I pause, hold my breath

afraid to open my eyes

your footsteps washing away

_

Haibun for Karen

When a family friend passed away at age 51, it brought tears to my eyes and heart.  She was an athlete, took good care of her body, ate healthy, lived a clean life.  They received her diagnosis on a family vacation to the ocean.  As she walked with her younger sister they found a broken sand dollar.  Her sister remarked how it was a shame it could not be whole.  Here in my friend remarked about how she liked the broken pieces best.  That they were like all of us incomplete; you never knew when two pieces would fit together to make something beautiful.  Her brothers combed the beach that night and collected buckets of broken sand dollars.  These were passed out at her celebration of life along with the story much better told and her words more elegantly written.  My fragment has long since been ground up in my purse and the paper lost in an avalanche of things to keep,  but reading Poe’s “A Dream with in a Dream” brought this to mind.  Life is a messy journey and even broken things hold much beauty.

   

sand dollar fragments

wash in on moonlit shore

fragile life, wanes