She worried about the camera, at first.
But quickly gained confidence.
Publication note: My poem “Dragonfly” appears in Issue 11 of Victorian Violet Journal, which launched yesterday.
in the yard
The Old Cactus
When we moved into this house in 2001, we found a potted cactus abandoned by the previous owners. Since then the cactus has outgrown three pots, survived snowstorms and hurricanes, and inspired a cactus-themed flower bed. But it isn’t a pretty creature. Spiders haunt its tightly-woven spines, spinning dense shrouds of web around its base. Leaves cling to it, and its barbs penetrate leather gloves as easily as they run through flimsy cotton. Its trunk is twisted, half-collapsed on one side, leaning heavily against a trio of stakes. I wonder, sometimes, if it aches with age. If it feels the listing slump of years and yearns for the tall, unblemished symmetry of youth.
And then it blooms. More and more blooms each summer. More and more beautiful…
Hot Weather and Dragonflies
The forecast says cooler weather is on the way, along with rain. I’m ready for a respite from the heat, but I’m not sure the dragonflies agree.
The first one is a Black Saddlebags dragonfly. The second is a Blue Dasher.
Clouds on the Horizon
This morning started with anxiety, and the day has continued with anxiety. It’s a nebulous, eerie sensation of “something wrong” that has absolutely no basis in observable fact. Except, there are these clouds…
Failed Nests
The yard’s nests are having a tough year. In April, I discovered a robin’s nest in the wax myrtle. A few days later, a heap of feathers hinted that hawks had claimed another victim. Broken eggs soon joined the feathers.
Now the recent dove’s nest is also empty. I don’t know what happened, only that the nest held two eggs one day, none the next.
Both losses tempt me toward sadness, but how dare I claim sadness? Failed nests are blissfully minor tragedies. Wouldn’t it be a joyous day, if the only news worth reporting involved bird nests?
Rae Spencer 