A Trip to the Tulip Festival at Mt. Vernon

Mountains with patchwork snow,
Trees with scattered blooms,
Families at picnic tables with popcorn and drinks and picnic lunches.
Paths of red and yellow, orange and purple tulips
A windmill surrounded by every color tulips come in.
Tales of past adventures coming from nearby tables,
Tents offering burgers, hot dogs, flannel cakes, ice cream.
Tulip plants and grass vases (!) for sale in the big tent.

Benches for viewing private auditions of a tulip performance.
My three friends and I at this table sharing fudge, chips and stories.
And the sun is out. What a day! And we're still on the move!

We drive by more tulip fields, and stop at Farmhouse Restaurant for a lunch buffet.
Then a jaunt to Padilla Bay estuary, and the nearby visitors center
Where we're welcomed to the exhibits, even though they're closed on Tues.
We watch and read about sea life and birds,
And I hit the button five times for the sound of ducks,
That brings me at warp speed to every duck pond I've ever stopped at.

Now we're driving up to Mt. Erie, with its views of valleys and mountains and farms.
On the drive coming and going,
We discuss Byron Katie's www.thework.com and A Course in Miracles.
Gratitude and hugs are shared for this perfect day.
Our friendship is even deeper. Life is good.

Writing with a Friend: my words and his 8-29-2010

Con and I went to the Bellevue Botanical Garden Art Show and enjoyed the various
sculptures and creative art pieces. While there, we wrote 3 different poems that
started out with the same first line. So I'll share mine and then his. A fun process!

Mine:
1) The wind is around us but not on us.
We're in a rock-decorated garden with circular concrete walks
Among sunflower and plants of all kinds
The quiet here cleanses the spirit like a shower refreshes the body.
Beauty performs on the stage of the outdoors
Whether there are spectators or not

The breeze peeks through and tickles branches
Who shyly bow, then willingly do a dance.
It is all effortless. The tableau is like a table set with napkins and plates
Waiting for people to sit and eat.
I have tasted its grace and its color.
It is inside me. And now I can move on.
-----------------------------------------
Con's:
1) The wind is around us but not on us,
serene, calm, cozy with a woman friend.
The wind, without judgement
caresses everything with loving connectedness,

Wind, one of the activities of Life,
Creating, loving without opinion.
Wind, silent, except when caressing another of
Life's expressions.
Wind, unseen, partner of Life.
Seemingly seen, with its interactions,
Seemingly heard when it interacts.
-----------------------------------------
Mine:
2) A canopied pond invites us to its serene stillness.
We say thank you and sit on the bench provided.
The branches bow their welcome,
And we wait for the performance of frogs jumping,
Minnows moving, the mirror of the surface
Breaking with their tiny movements.

The elm is getting its afternoon tan
While other trees are content to be in the shadows.
Green covers the pond further down.
The explorer in me pictures myself
Walking in and folding the pond around me.

I so want the stillness taking me over
When I am feeling overextended.
Here, there is no hyperactivity.
Here I am totally at ease.
Hm....I'm taking it home with me.
--------------------------
Con's:
2) A canopied pond, Still water,
A bench under the trees,
A breeze moving next to us,
Now slightly upon us,
Tall water grasses,
Sounds of automotive civilization in the distance
and way up in the atmosphere.

Sunlight coming thru the clouds,
Thru the branches and leaves,
A meandering dirt, gravel, well kept-up trail,
Big elephant ear leafed plants,
And a myriad variety of other green and brown and other colors of
Our family. We are all one Life.

Poetry from my book, Diving Right In

Friendship’s Arms
I’m here, you’re there, this special day
Oh, how I miss dear Friendship’s arms.
The feelings thought, but not exchanged
Seem excess weight, unwelcome guests.
My censure bids me see all’s well,
But heart’s encased in dark cocoon
Till trust and time and tender touch
Again give welcome to Friendship’s arms.

To my Good Friend
It is you who first told me, “1 want to know.
What are you REALLY thinking?”
I used to dip my words into deep pools
Where propriety dictated
How quickly I dared plunge in.

You see, there are many pools that LOOK inviting,
Where I hear, “The water’s warm!”, and I rush in,
Only to feel chilled throughout.
Once I’m there, I stay and swim, but,
Braced against the assault on my skin,
I never freely splash and shout:
I know it isn’t warm.

With you, Friend, I rarely test the water--
The temperature nearly always welcomes my headfirst dive.
If I shiver, you notice,
And we warm ourselves before swimming further.

I notice we slow down when the water turns color
And the depth and cold intensify.
Dare we trust our bodies in unswum waters?

When one of us feels sure, we urge the other on
And feel triumphant several strokes later.
But, dear friend, dare we gauge each other’s mettle
On our own moment’s strength?
Do you feel weaker if you say,
“Today I only want to swim half way out?”
Am I just as desired a playmate when I only wade,
Or must we always go past the deep mark
Always push, always stretch limits?

I do not need us to swim as far and as fast
As each other every time.
So if I urge, and your body is a wader today,
Please tell me.
Either way, Friend, “The water’s warm!

Home’s Beauty, Inside and Out
She’s lived here four years, longer than the other roomers.
House and yard beauty is her chosen domain.
Blue and green pots, long wood planter boxes,
Bricks or rocks around these strawberries, those irises.
She mothers the plants, moving them from too little or too much sun.
She regularly places buds or flowers or leaved branches
In colored vases, on kitchen ledges, bathroom chests.
We walk up front steps and see cherries, new carrots.
Breakfast and lunch on the deck treat eyes with color,
Ears with bird songs,
Mind with gratitude for raspberries, for beauty, for profusion.
Even MY mind, so often full of plans and projects, emails and calls,
Sinks into sweet solace, swims in it
As I'm teased into the verdant restful space of Here,
The no-mind place of Now.
Breathing in the garden's rose, now on my desk
Offers release and respite.
I smell freedom from duty and stress.
I am content. And so is she.


Ripeness
I weigh both sides-—can’t know for sure
If this or that is better choice.
Remembering then to drop control
I wait till ripeness shares its fruit.