Is it true, gaillardia, you amazing bit of flora, that your common name springs from the bright and beautiful blankets made by Native Americans, pulling inspiration from Mother Nature’s palette? Oh! I do hope so! I’m drawn even more to your astounding blossoms, and think of the unparalleled artistry of Native American weavers leaving threads of history and beauty in the tapestry of life.
It must be the weather. Scorpions (or vinegarroons?) have invaded our home. Yeah, I know, right? Terrifying to a squeamish hater of all things creepy crawly. I know, I know, every creature on earth has its place in the greater scheme of things, but not in my house, thank you very much. And, yes, the exterminator has been here – twice – and the residual effect of the spraying has slowed the creatures down, and in most cases brought about their demise. And yet, even the dead ones give me the willies.
On a related note, my poor husband has the lasting evidence of a brown recluse spider bite on his leg. The reason I called the exterminator in the first place about three weeks ago. The ER doc said the purple-black spot will likely never go away as the spider’s poison killed the cells in that area. Yikes. All the more reason for me to be unwilling to make friends with the creepy crawly world. Strangely, Bob never experienced pain or itching in the small, affected area but it is not a pretty sight.
Curiously, when I mentioned the bite in the company of several women, three said they had been bitten by a brown recluse or knew someone who had been bitten. In a separate conversation on a different day, I got similar responses. So, the buggers (no pun intended) must be on the move. To be clear, these reports didn’t happen recently but spread over time. Still scary to my way of thinking.
Whether the heat has caused robust insect activity is a matter of speculation on my part, but the heat is definitely affecting all of us in one way or another. The day Las Vegas broke the record with a 100-degree temperature is the day I briefly considered getting an air conditioner of some kind. But the question of what kind stymied me. And then it cooled off, kind of, and we had a burst of rain, which really helped. And then… nothing. And it’s heating up again. We have fans going all over the house to move the air around. Insufficient but it works… sort of, more or less. I took the photo at right the day a mix of hail and rain came crashing down. The hail drummed on the roof, knocked branches off the trees and stripped my potted plants. They’re springing back, despite monster grasshoppers taking nips and rips from everything!
Yes, it has been a weird, weird summer. Despite it all, I’ve managed to find time to be creative. Here’s some recent poetry.
TEACUP Floral swirls in colors bright you hold the musings of my heart in each sip of warm tea, taking me down the path of memory.
STAR Set in the heavens twinkling a winking glow alight with your brilliance ruling the night, star of the show.
PAIN / LOVE Pain and love, four letter words filled with angst.
FLOWERS Gardens flourish and flowers bloom, growing hearts and making room for joy to fill us up, an ever overflowing cup.
IN THE STILLNESS Silence beckons; walk into its solitude to find peace.
Time stops. Welcome the comfort of quiet meditation full of light
Breathe deep, slow your mind, attune your self to the stillness.
TREES Trees are said to come from a single root that weaves throughout the world, feeding, nurturing, sustaining the forests, maintaining the beauty we all need. Did it come from a single seed? Did it spring from Eden in the long ago? Is the root instead the Root of humanity, the progenitor of us all? God, our protector.
SANTOS Art emerges under the deft hands of a skilled crafter of retablos and bultos, images sometimes simple and plain, other times brilliantly carved, striking in color and execution. The artisan chooses; God inspires.
Photo of spider – UC Riverside website archive Photo of storm – Sharon Vander Meer (c)
Rain falls to the earth,
seeps into the soil,
awakens resting roots and seeds.
Where there was nothing,
now come signs of life,
fragile yet strong.
Graceful sprouts reply
to the sun’s call.
Shoots reach toward the sky,
intricate and beautiful,
wonder beyond imagining,
each tiny drop of rain,
reflecting the face of God.
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