currant events bear plentiful low hanging fruit ripe for the picking
(Extra points if you noticed the stink bug in the photo đ )
tenuous flame clings to woven hope lest it drown in the molten sea
staving off darkness one brief flicker at a time your candle lights mine
I will light your way I will make your shadows dance you will feed the flame
Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol
âAs a child, I always knew it was springtime when I opened my bedroom window and caught the subtle, heartwarming aroma of the seasonâs first blossoms wafting across the swamplands of home. Yep, if the skunk cabbage was blooming, summer was just around the corner.â
If you were to ask me my favorite flower, I might tell you it is the Lysichiton americanus. But that would be far too pretentious. You know that whole âa rose by any other name would smell as sweetâ line? A Lysichiton americanus, by its other name, smells like⌠well, like its namesake.
âSkunk cabbageâ didnât get its name from any black-and-white striped color scheme. Itâs named for its distinctive âskunkyâ odor. So am I joking that itâs my favorite flower? Nope.
Growing up in a âwetlandâ area (formerly known as a swamp), the smell of skunk cabbage was indeed a harbinger of spring, which meant warmer weather and maybe just a tad less rain. Or maybe it meant warmer rain and a tad less weather. I forget.
But the symbolism of the skunk cabbage doesnât just stop at being a seasonal reminder. Despite its stinky name, the plant is quite beautiful. Large, lush green leaves, bright yellow flowers. It livens even the fustiest of swamplands. And it does so by rising regally out of its surrounding mud and mire.
Somehow I find that inspiring. More so than a hothouse rose or a pampered orchid. It is raw no-fuss nature at its best. Simple beauty despite its odoriferous moniker. To me it symbolizes dignity, poise â maybe even grace â while amidst the muck of worldly living.
So, come Motherâs Day or my birthday or any other day one might be compelled to send me a bouquet of flowers, let it be roses. Come on, you didnât expect me to say skunk cabbage, did you? Symbolism only goes so far.
Weekly Photo Challenge: Symbol
About five days into a summer cold and partway through my evening meal, it dawned on me that I couldnât taste or smell the food I was eating. I was too congested from the cold. How long, I wondered, had I been impaired in those senses without even noticing?
I began to think about how I really take my five senses for granted, and I decided to try focusing on one sense for an entire day and see what I noticed that I may have otherwise missed. I chose the sense of touch since it wasnât being effected by the cold.
I think of all the senses, touch would be the most dangerous one to lose. Feeling pain helps me pull away from potential harm, helps me realize that I need to realign my back when I am sitting improperly, helps me enjoy my pets, and helps me connect with others. Just for starters.
Here are some observations from my day:

Feeling the spiral wiring on my notebook, the ridges caused by my pen on pages I have used, the smoothness of clean pages waiting to be used, all adds to the pleasure of writing my daily journal entries.

Parched? Waterlogged? I talk to my plants on occasion, but so far they have suffered my neglect in silence. If the brown leaves arenât a “dead” giveaway, I can feel the soilâs saturation level to determine their needs.

Petting my soft cat is comforting and pleasurable. Plus I can catch him when he tries to use my leg as a scratching post.

I discover sooner rather than later when I should scream and do the get-that-creepy-thing-off-me dance.
Itâs been an interesting experience to focus on the sensation of touch. Iâve decided to try this with each of my five senses (maybe even my sixth sense). Stay tuned!
Weekly Photo Challenge: Door
[Editorial note: Yes, it’s another dog post, but I promise to swear off dog posts for the rest of the month, maybe even longer. Promise. Cross my paws — fingers — heart.]
Triumph is when you are doggedly chasing after a goal,
and you finally catch up to that thing youâve been chasing,
but you manage to come away with a smile
in spite of it.
Photo 101 Assignment 20: Triumph
A plethora of pillars perch on a porch,
planks peeling paint that past periods parched.
Partitioned panes perfect the perception,
perhaps prim proprietors previously peeked
past the posts to preening patrols on parade.
Hold on a minute! Are those pillars or columns?
A column of columns congregate on the…
oh, never mind.
Photo 101 Assignment 18: Edge and Alignment