Blooming in my garden: Anemones

24 03 2012

All through the long winter, I dream of my garden. On the first day of spring, I dig my fingers deep into the soft earth. I can feel its energy, and my spirits soar.

—Helen Hayes

© Cindy Dyer. All rights reserved.



2 responses

2 04 2012

I really love that anemonie with its blue and purple blend of color. It’s gorgeous. We could call it blurple, I suppose, or perhaps purblue, but I like blurple better.

Uh, oh!

I sense a highly expressive, rhythmical literary piece assembling itself, a poem, unbidden but definitely wanting to be heard. Of course it could be nothing more than stomach gasses.

Nope, it is definitely a poem, and here it is, my Ode to a girl with rosy cheeks:

Thy cheeks are rosy,
Anemones are blurple,
You are sweet,
But so is maple syruple.

Okay, I know Roger Miller would turn over in his grave if he knew I was torturing his song like this, but I doubt that he is reading it. He’s probably too busy singing with the angels.

l love that thar Annie-monie. It stirs my emotions and releases the bard in me.

2 04 2012

Your other readers may note that I made two similar comments here. That’s because I hit the wrong button and sent the comment while my creative juices were really boiling, and the photographer won’t get off the phone so I can ask her to cancel my unfinished creation and approve this, the corrected virgin – oops, I mean version.

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