Archive for the ‘Plants’ Tag
Manzanita – Little Apple — Image by kenne
The manzanita
Adds color to mountain trails,
Small apples to some.
Symbol of accord
Between the old and the young,
Always turning heads.
A mystical plant
Brining forth the hues of thought,
Our earth is reborn.
The smoothness of red
Against the wrinkles of gray,
To make young again.
— kenne
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Creosote Bush — Image by kenne
Evergreen and Common,
The desert smell we love —
So bring on the rain.
— kenne
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Little Ones Along the Buff Trail — Image by kenne
Hi, sweet little thing
Nice to see you this morning
Adorning my path.
— kenne
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Brittlebush Flowers — Computer Painting by kenne
bee sits on flower
buzz buzz bee sips sweet nectar
quick! next flower waits
— Roberta Gibson
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“Hi, Little Friend” — Image by kenne
There comes a point in your life
when you realize who really matters,
who never did, and who always will.
– Unknown
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Desert Chicory (February 14, 2014) — Image by kenne
Design is the fundamental soul
of a human-made creation
that ends up expressing itself
in successive outer layers
of the product or service.
— Steve Jobs
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This Agave Stalk Has Grown Over Twelve Feet Since Thanksgiving.
The Power of Tequila! — Image by kenne
Agave [Cactus]
by Carol Hamilton
You don’t squeeze tequila
from a pumped up, rubbery leaf.
Nothing is easy in Mexico,
and everything takes time,
patience, muscle. Hacking
and digging and hacking
and a deep pit and fire
and time and time and time.
I lose time, forget it at
the other end of the tequila,
but left to me, that cactus
would still be standing there
on the [Sonora] Desert
undisturbed.
This poem can be found in the book, AGAVE —
“If you like tequila,
you will love the art,
songs, poems, stories,
and recipes in
AGAVE.”
Since moving to Tucson and becoming a Sabino Canyon Volunteer Naturalist, I know agaves are not cacti, and I live in the Sonoran Desert, not the Sonora Desert. However, since poets like to take poetic license, I will give Carol a pass on this one.
kenne
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Desert Marigold Blooming Early In The Desert (January 29, 2014) — Image by kenne
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Honey Bee & Fairy Duster — Images by kenne
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A Prickly Pear Cactus Growing on a Giant Saguaro in Sabino Canyon — Image by kenne
Plants have been known to grow in some of the strangest places. Many people may thank of plants out-of-place (whatever that is) as a weed. But, when you think about it, plants don’t have the option of moving to a better place — it’s make the best of it, or perish!
Obviously, this prickly pear cactus is trying to make the best of being in the arms of a giant saguaro cactus. So far, the conditions have been right — may the force of nature be with you.
kenne
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White Rose — Image by kenne
Daylight comes later.
Picked-up the morning paper.
Went running.
The usual walkers were out before light.
The hill slowed my run.
I will forget the pain when I finish –
It’s always that way.
The first freeze is forecasted for Friday.
Say goodbye to the bougainvilleas.
Their fall color will be missed.
Knowing that they will return consoles.
Come Saturday, the white rose will still blossom.
Signifying courage through the long winter night.
A symbol of the poets struggle.
They will not be silenced.
— kenne
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“Still Adding Color To The Trail” — Images by kenne
ARIZONA WILDFLOWERS
Hanging
on for tomorrow,
Arizona wildflowers.
— kenne
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Bee On Mexican Bird of Paradise — Image by kenne
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“Green On Green” — Image by kenne
Long green cattail leaves
Bear stems with flowering spikes
In desert wetlands.
kenne
Cattails — Image by kenne
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Pinwheel Rainbows — Image by kenne
The Pinwheel, Green Jade and Rusty Blues
My rainbow colors,
spinning in the breeze
where I stand
shoulder to shoulder,
with Green Jade in his pot,
and Rusty, an old
barbwire-horseshoe windmill.
Then one winter,
my colors now fading,
Green Jade grew weak from the cold —
Rusty and I stood our ground
hoping Green Jade’s strength
would return in the spring.
Year after year
we hoped against hope,
I having lost all my color,
and Rusty, well,
becoming rustier,
as we continued to shared
Green Jade’s pot.
After a while,
the hurricane winds
blew in from the coast —
the strong winds were
more than Rusty could stand,
now he lies restfully
at my feet.
My spinning, having,
taken on a wabbly gait,
slowly weakening my pin —
when one day a gust of wind
blow off my wheel,
leaving only a stick
standing alone
in Green Jade’s pot,
with Rusty at my feet.
— kenne
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Becoming is Superior to Being 