Morning Glories

Blue, magenta, violet, and white,

reaching and swooping like a tail of a kite,

while clinging to cover an offensive sight

of barbed wire protection from thieves in the night.

These morning glory blossoms, so gentle and frail

take what once looked like the back of a jail

and beautify the view into bright and pale

tuba-like petals doing the dance of a sail.

This poem is a true story of the barbed wire fence that surrounds the football field behind our house.  It's another example of how lemonade can be made out of lemons.  Now, when I look at what used to be an eyesore, I can't stop looking at the beauty of the morning glory blossoms.  Thanks to the kind words of a reader, I expressed today's post in the form of a poem.  Thank you, Sandy.

 The photo, "Bottle Bottom" is new and has nothing to do with the poem, but here is a picture of my morning glories:  

School Dreams

God gave me a gift this morning.  It was a dream.  I woke up in the middle of it when my alarm went off.  As a retired school teacher, I usually start having dreams about working in a classroom around this time of year, and that's what this was, except, my daughter was with me.  She and I were trying to have a conversation.  I could see her smiling, and it felt so good to be with her, but then hoards of students invaded our space.  I heard the number 51, and thought that was way too many children to take care of by myself.  

The layout of the room was also strange in that it was actually three rooms, each with a corner attached to a common area in the middle, like petals of a daisy around its center.  I was able to calm the crowd of kids down in one room, but as soon as I left to greet students in the other rooms, those in the first one were out of control.  The whole time this was happening, I just wanted to be with my daughter.  Finally, when I was awakened by my alarm, I remember that we were eating together while someone else was in charge of my students.  I woke up exhausted!  

Whether you're a retired teacher, or are still teaching, I'm pretty sure that as soon as you see the first back-to-school commercial, your dreams begin.  It's a sign that summer vacation is almost done, and your heart will once again belong to someone else's kids.  You bring your job home with you.  You breathe it, sleep it, and can't get it off your mind.  

Now that I've been retired for seven years, school dreams take on a whole new meaning for me.  I'm in the process of trying to decide what to let go of in order to make my life less busy.  I'm learning how to say, "No".  This morning's dream was a reminder of how much my family means to me, and has cemented some decisions I've been struggling with.  What a gift!  After all, I retired to spend more time with my loved ones, not less, and certainly not just in my dreams. 

The above photo is called, "Under Water II, with Ink Line Filter".  I paired it with this post because it has a bit of a dreamy look .

Treasured Tree

Even from a second story window, I still can't see the top of the mighty oak that stands stretching to the heavens just eight feet away from our house.  Five trunk-sized branches stem out from the top of its core as the shade from this tree covers half of our yard and a good portion of our neighbors'.  If I were to give this magnificent tree a hug, it would take three of me to encircle its entire circumference.  Squirrels get their morning exercise running in a candy cane striped pattern around and up the trunk.  Then branching out, these nimble little creatures can leap to just about anywhere they want to go.  Now and then, I'll be awakened by an ornery one as it perches safely above the world and scolds the other squirrels for coming near it.  Who could blame it, though?  If you snooze, you lose, and the first one to the top of this leafy tower earns its bragging rights.

As I gaze upon my treasured tree several times each day, no one time is in less awe than another.  I think of the countless Michigan storms it has survived.  I'm grateful for its strength.  The breadth of its leaves makes me look at the ground and imagine how far its roots must go.  I'd like to know if someone before me had planted this tree or if it had sprouted from a squirrel's buried treasure.  Either way, for the joy of those who come after me, I hope its days will outlast mine.  I hope others will greet the morning with this tree in their view and realize what a gift it truly is.

The picture above is of a fossil out of Lake Michigan.  It has me puzzled.  I think it may be part of a horn coral, but I'm not sure, so if anyone out there knows what it is, please let me know.  I found it this week, put oil on it, and photographed it over sand with natural sunlight.  I used an ink-line filter in Photoshop, along with a frame effect.  I chose this picture because if you turn it vertically, it resembles a tree.
 

The Surf

You taunt me.

You tease me,

and if I am patient,

you please me.

Relentlessly persistent,

you make the hunt hard

for sea glass and fossils

and broken clay jars.

I saw the green one.

I saw the blue.

Then, all of a sudden,

they were pulled back to you. 

The photo above is called, "Glass Glued on Water Color, with Poster Edge Filter".  I thought it went well with this poem that came to me as the waves kept causing whatever I had my eye on to disappear.