summer creek
the fish in me getting
fish kisses
summer-hot hills
folding together
dry creek beds
without a boat
crossing the creek
pine shadow wind
© Jane Reichhold
She has such fond memories up North in Shawbridge, now called Prévost at the family cottage. It was built by her great grandfather who arrived from Ballybunion,Ireland in the late 19th century. They called this summer place, Kilarney Cottage and it could house at least twenty people with nine bedrooms and only one bathroom in the kitchen downstairs. The house was next to a clear water creek. Children as well as grownups loved to skip the rocks in the creek. If you slipped, you got a startle from the frigid water. She remembers screaming with delight when she managed to skip more than ten rocks. Tucked in bed late at night, the adults still partying downstairs. The fresh cool air and sound of the running water from the creek muffled the laughter and clinking of glasses.
icy water flows
fish splashing at sundown
roaring creek lulls
© Tournesol’16
Tournesol dans un Jardin 
Just a wonderful few minutes spent with your company!
Really a beautiful post. Interesting, warm.
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Thanks so much, Hamish, it was such a lovely place. Your post on creek inspired me to write about it after I tied in something dark with the prompt wisdom. How the mind vacillates sometimes.
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Oh, what a refreshing time spent together in this beautiful memory. Yes, we are Irish kin. The longer my hair gets the more the red is showing up in it among all the grey!
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Yep, I gave up hiding the red in my thirty’s realizing my hair darkened to an auburn shade. 🙂
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I felt like part of the family, reading this beautiful haibun. Lovely memories.
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Thanks so much, Purple Pen:) is that Portland, Maine?
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Portland, Oregon
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Aw you are closer to Vancouver…the other Portland is closer to Montreal 🙂
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and so it goes . . .
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