Today’s poem is a straight-forward seasonal inspiration from the garden. I always cheer to see these tiny, luminous spring ephemerals. Sometimes the timing of their blooming has coincided with Memorial Day and I have included them in bouquets I have made to place on the graves of Corrine and Elvin Heiberg in nearby Oak Lawn Cemetary. Now, researching them for this morning’s poem, I am aware not only of the power of their beauty but of their powerful poisons–not sure I will pick them again. If I do, it will be with caution and even more reverence.
Again, I am filling in the gap left by Rosendahl (no entries for “Y” in his otherwise extensive glossary.) I think yarrow, a member of the aster family, is very beautiful, and I am drawn to its pungent scent. I also love that it can, warrior-like, hold its own against the juglone secreted by our black walnuts. Today’s poem, “Common Yarrow,” rises out of my explorations into the botanical name for common yarrow (Achillea millefolium) and the plant’s presence in human history in Europe and Asia. Thinking about the different histories and uses of this familiar garden flower helped me to get to know it a little better. I will be tucking a little more yarrow into our garden in the coming weeks!
Red Hot Pokers in Point Arena, CaliforniaHeadland, Point Arena LighthouseMount Shasta
Lacking a Rosendahl entry for the Letter “X,” I decided to use the term “xeric,” which means “dry” or “arid.” That term brought back recent memories of my trip with Tim to the California coast last August. The poem, “California Flipbook,” draws on these memories and images taken late last summer, when the air was smoky from wild fires was ablaze near Chico, and the natural world was at once fragrant and beautiful but also demonstrably stressed and fragile.
Wishing you blue skies, wherever you go today, LESLIE
Full Rainbow Outside of Northfield, MinnesotaAfternoon Rainbow on Our Kitchen Floor
I associate outdoor light and shine with Earth Day, and I have every since I was sitting on our porch swing on Earth Day in 2000, with a nine-month-old Julia on my lap. The light rainfall ceased and a double rainbow appeared across the street. “Julia, Julia!” I said, “The Earth loves us back!”
Today’s poem, “Earth Day, 2025,” echoes that emotion for me.
These photos of sedums in our front garden were taken yesterday. They are “glazed with rainwater” in a way that I think that William Carlos Williams would appreciate, and we are thrilled that these robust, low-lying plants are coming up again, vernicose and welcome.
The prompt word that I chose today from Rosendahl’s glossary, “vernicose,” was not known to me before. I was quite taken with its definition, “shiny, as though varnished,” especially when applied to growing plants. As I sought to learn more online, I was questioned repeatedly about the spelling–did I not mean “varicose”?–no, I did not! I conclude that vernicose is not a commonly used word. I did, however, learn that vernicose leaves, especially in houseplants, are a sign of radiant health.
Wishing you a day of brightness and brilliant health, and the same to our beloved planet, Earth! LESLIE
The poem that resulted today is a bit of a stretch from the prompt word found in Rosendahl’s glossary, “unarmed.” What, I wondered, does this adjective have to do with plants? I learned that “armed” plants are those with thorns. From there–with a hop, skip, and a leap–I thought of the anniversary trip that Tim and I took two years ago to the place we serendiptiously found on our honeymoon, then later returned to as first home-buyers, but had not seen for many years. This time, the little house we had briefly owned was not to be seen from the street due to overgrown vegetation, and this reminded me very strongly at the time of the fairy tale of Sleeping Beauty, of the impentrable barrier of thorny brambles that repelled visitors.
From there, I thought of images from that summer–sails that remind me of thorns and, conversely, the statue of the unarmed woman, called “Flower in a Crannied Wall,” beloved by Frank Lloyd Wright and reproduced in several locations in his Spring Green, Wisconsin home, Taliesin.
Wishing you a fairy tale happy ending to a magical day, LESLIE
