Category Archives: poetry

This, and my heart.

bees, my garden, poetry, , , , , , ,

Western Honeybee and Patchwork Leafcutter Bee

This afternoon the sun came out, but my house was cold, so I took my lunch into the garden and sat in the sunshine, on the edge of the planter box. A few inches away several plants were draping their heavy, flowery stems over the brick area between my seat and the fig tree: Milkweed, salvia, borage, oregano, and lavender were all tucked in close together. The bees were loving it. Carpenter bees, honeybees, some little bees I didn’t recognize. It’s very sweet to be able to take a few steps out my back door and find myself in a world where a thousand tiny creatures are flying about and feasting.

My hands were occupied, I couldn’t take pictures of them, and that was nice for a change. I did take pictures on other days so I am sharing those here. The two just above are from the front garden, where the pincushion flowers are a bit hit. Leafcutter is new to me. While she was buzzing around and I first caught glimpses of all that yellow, I thought maybe it was pollen. But no, it’s not on her legs, it’s her own body that’s so bright. [But YES, shoreacres explains in a comment below, while it’s not on her legs, it is indeed pollen!]

Yes, the pollinators love all these flowers, too: the white echinacea, germander, and salvia clevelandii. I took the picture above just after I propped up the pincushion flowers that grew to 6 feet, looking for the sun. I hadn’t realized that that area is now Part Shade, because of the crape myrtle. I’ll have to move the pincushions in the fall; it’s quite a jumble in there with the flowers in back shorter than the ones in front. I’m in no hurry to do it as long as the bees are so happy.

My first draft of this post was just the poem and painting below,
but then my own bees got added to Emily’s.
It’s all we have.

IT’S ALL I HAVE TO BRING TODAY

It’s all I have to bring today —
This, and my heart beside —
This, and my heart, and all the fields —
And all the meadows wide —
Be sure you count — should I forget
Some one the sum could tell —
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

-Emily Dickinson

Claude Monet, The Summer Poppy Field

Peaceful breath and perfect pie.

books, food and cooking, pie, poetry

LEMON PIE

I struggled ten or fifteen years
To make good lemon pie.
The crust was thin, the paste was thick,
And the meringue was dry.

The crust was thick, the filling thin,
The top was limp and flat!
I thought, I’ve met my Waterloo–
I’ll never master that!

But I toiled on while bitter tears
Fell often on my board.
And now I’ll draw a peaceful breath–
I’ve reaped a rich reward.

I heard the village gossip say,
Today as I passed by:
“I never liked her, but she makes
A perfect lemon pie.”

-Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings

I made a lemon meringue pie only once, and wrote about it here: Pie Amusement

You might think from the way I talked about pies ten years ago that I would have made dozens more by now, at least one a month, right? I have not. But, maybe I will this week — haha! I truly have been wanting to bake some kind of dessert so that I can call — or more likely, text — the neighbors and ask them for dessert on one of these long evenings. For me, baking a pie is a monumental event, and I don’t know if I can change my perspective at this stage of life.

This poem is from the poetry collection Songs of a Housewife, but you might be more familiar with the poet as the author of The Yearling. If you’d like to read more about the housewife-poet Rawlings, Sandy’s Chatter featured a post about her some time back, and shared another poem, “Prize Jelly.”

Showing the good side of my lemon meringue pie.