What Pablo thought

Picasso brain flex
Value in fresh endeavors

All are beginners

Pablo Picasso said that every child is born an artist, the problem is how to remain one once we grow up. Something very primary clicked in me when I grasped my Crayola Oil Pastels on a September 2015 Sunday afternoon. I was at a drawing class at the Iowa Arboretum with Carla, a gentle, competent teacher. Although I sometimes say that I can hardly think without a pen in my hand, I haven’t considered drawing in years. My last art class was probably in junior high. But some part of me remembered enough to not be afraid.

Pollinator paradise

Busy guests arrive.

Hummingbirds and orioles

Farewell, safe journey.

Calling Emily

The rocks called to me,
“Check me out.”
“Pick me up.”
“Take me home.”

I waded awash in cool polishing water
Slipperiness undermining balance in one breath
Counterpoint with solid comfort each tread.

Ledges Canyon a long shallow version
Of Harimau Cave
Half a world away.

Where Emily and I dipped
And glistened and exclaimed over rocks.
Selecting one, tossing another,
Unspoken criteria for the keepers.
We paused to admire the other’s prizes without coveting.
Then dove again for beauty.

We were younger then
By a long shot.
So were the rocks
Albeit only by a planetary blink.

I brought my smooth canyon treasures home
To keep them wet, in my gaze.
Silent souvenirs of solidarity
Outlasting time and geography.

Late Summer Nourishment

This is precisely why we did not remove the volunteer sunflower. (Recalling Summer Weeds July 31st) Await, allow, accept, attend.