It was late at night between Christmas and New Year’s, January, 1968. A time where mini skirts,fish-net stockings and short pea coats were the fashion…never warm enough for those winters in Quebec. A tuque or beret was fashionable but never worn covering the ears…that would not be stylish. The walk from the rec centre was several kilometers to her home by the river. How he fell in love with her baby blues…
I was up all night last night writing to catch up and well, my muse was ready so when she’s in the mood, I follow. Not always wise to stretch myself like that when I had only one day off this weekend.
I watched the sun rise in front of my workstation my patio faces east. The sky started its purplish hues, then turned pink and suddenly I looked up from my laptop and this big round ball of bright yellow above the horizon stared at me. I took photos but it would never do it justice what I witnessed. It looked like it was a ball of fire. It reminded me of something I remembered in religion classes, tongues of floating fire. Within minutes the sky turned misty and the sun just shied away. For about twenty minutes I witnessed this and I wonder just how many people actually did see this beautiful act of nature.
I love sunflowers, my nom de plume in French, Tournesol. Here is a Troiku created by Chèvrefeuille which is a series of haiku. To learn more about this form click here.
The thunder of the waterfall echoed in the distance. Cher looked up at the sky and noticed dark rain clouds. She would have to hurry home soon if she didn’t want to get drenched but first she was curious. She walked all the way here for an hour from the other side of the village. She heard there was a path towards a secret garden. Her great-grandmother told her about it just before she died. “Cher, go to the garden luv, you must not miss this last chance to meet true joy.” She thought her grandmother was in her moments of dementia when she said that but still…what if?
Cher was near the falls now and the booming sound of tons of water falling was impressive and a bit daunting. Should she continue, she thought to herself peaking in the little opening between the two plum trees…and then she saw…
wild flowers competing for attention bursting in colours
There were mini gardens within the largest most spectacular garden she had ever seen. Daisies, buttercups, marigolds, lilies, sunflowers and so much more. At the centre of the garden was a cherry tree and the fragrance from the blossoms were so tantalizing. There was a section beneath the tree that looked like a velvet emerald carpet it was surreal…too perfect to be grass…and yet it was with tiny clovers interspersed and part of this exquisite verdure. She sat beneath the tree, picking at clover leaves and tasting their sweetness. She lay on her back for a moment admiring the clear blue sky …funny how the clouds disappeared here, she thought. The scented cherry blossoms seemed to have a hypnotic effect on her…she closed her eyes, “Just for a few minutes, I am so tired”…not realizing she was actually sleeping on a bed of poppies. They were so minuscule and not visible to the naked human eye.
She was bathing in bubbling hot springs and suddenly soft laughter of what appeared to be children, woke her up from this wonderful dream. She looked around and saw little people the size of her thumb dressed in glitzy costumes of gold, silver and her favourite of all…azure blues. They giggled louder when they saw her raiser an eyebrow. A chipmunk sounding voice shouted, “Come along, let’s set the tea and sweets. The human is awake…quickly now!!”
It took ten little people to push a porcelain floral cup and saucer towards Cher. When she realized the tea was for her, she reached out and picked it up saving them another two “human” feet would have taken another five minutes for them. The tea was sweet like honey and fragrant like cerise noir. She felt like a queen being served by these tiny people. Could they actually be fairies, she thought. She must be dreaming.
honourable guest visiting the Cherry garden Way of Tea
She heard a melody that seemed familiar as she put her cup down. Over by the daisies, on an elevated grassy turf, a beautiful petite woman with a white silk gown sang like an angel. She must be an angel, Cher thought, Oh, my I can’t seem to get out of this dream. Gosh! I don’t want to get out of this dream!
voix mielleuse refrain d’amour et longue vie transpire doucement ~ honey tones refrain of love and long life gently trickle
Closing her eyes, she let that sweet voice wrap her in a spiritual wellness. Each note lightened her heart, made her feel refreshed… reborn.
bathed in pure positive energy born again ~ born again releasing her grip softening chi
*Tetsuya says that holding on to the bow too tightly too long only weakens the bow. I must know when it is time to soften my grip. This garden is one way to be in the moment and float on a bed of poppies…drift away from worries, work. Here I am me, beautiful and perfect in all my imperfections.
Cher left the garden feeling refreshed and revitalized; she reminded herself to come back more often and not wait until the clouds turned dark and heavy…regular visits here would be a mindful choice.
May it be an evening star Shines down upon you May it be when darkness falls Your heart will be true You walk a lonely road Oh! How far you are from home
Mornië utúlië ([Quenya:] Darkness has come) Believe and you will find your way Mornië alantië ([Quenya:] Darkness has fallen) A promise lives within you now
May it be the shadow’s call Will fly away May it be your journey on To light the day When the night is overcome You may rise to find the sun
Mornië utúlië ([Quenya:] Darkness has come) Believe and you will find your way
Mornië alantië ([Quenya:] Darkness has fallen) A promise lives within you now
At Carpe Diem we have a hokku by Jackie Le Poidevin to complete to form a Tan Renga. After reading Georgia’s at Bastetandsekhmet, I loved her completion and decided to add on to hers. I reread my completion and noticed it seems to fit well alone with Jackie Le Poidevin’s hokku but tells a more complete story with Georgia’s, so here it is:
Bare branches touch Over the lane where we walk, Fingers entwined.