Sunday, April 17, 2016

April’s ablaze with blossoms and a-flurry with breezes





What better way to celebrate April as National Poetry Month?

Soon, in Eureka Springs, a gathering of poets from surrounding states and Arkansas will begin the annual Lucidity Poetry Retreat held at the Inn of the Ozarks. The first session is at night on a Tuesday (non- season rooms are less expensive then) with workshops, lectures, read-arounds, renewal of friendships and beginnings of new ones.

The final meeting is always on a Thursday night with the Awards Banquet, but many of us will prolong our goodbyes at a local cantina.

Poets from Arkansas, Missouri, Texas and Oklahoma will travel here, not only to enjoy the seasonal spring flowerings, but also to renew inspiration, to perhaps gain new techniques for writing, and to savor the ambience and fellowship of like-minded folk.

Laughter and conversations around tables at Myrtie Mae’s restaurant or Sparky’s will enrich the experience further. New friends become old friends and old friends become "family."

On the last afternoon, the group is free to ride the trolley, visit the masseuse, the flea markets, the trinket shops downtown, Thorncrown Chapel, Turpentine Creek Wildlife Refuge, attend an additional read-around session, or to nap.

As usual for the past few years, I’ll soon be a resident of the Writers Colony at Dairy Hollow for a week, which will include the poetry retreat. Besides writing, organizing, editing on the non-Lucidity days, I will stop in at the hospital’s Purple House thrift shop, the Echo and what used to be The Red Barn—all favorite places to pick up bargains in books and other things that please my eye.

Since last year, I have made Facebook friends with Dan K., so I’ll visit his workplace and several other places he’s suggested in his newspaper columns. Oh, and the Railway Winery out past Holiday Island—I’ll have to go see friends Vicki and Greg. I will make sure to pick up an issue of the Lovely County Citizen, which is full of writing ideas.

Billy Collins, former Poet Laureate of the U. S. has written a clever, more-truthful-than-not, poem, called

INTRODUCTION TO POETRY

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to water-ski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author’s name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

[from Sailing Alone Around the Room: New and Selected Poems, by Billy Collins]






Tuesday, April 5, 2016

It's April once again in all its beauty










Google image
 

Now that taxes are done (but not filed) and before going to the mountains in a while, I intend to sever the upper-arm-of-a-body-builder-sized trunk of the vining wisteria in the north yard. Why? Two reasons. Or more. It hasn’t bloomed well recently. AND, I learned lately that it is on the non-native, invasive plant list. PLUS, there are crape myrtles in the mix that DO bloom. Since I have a large yard, I had rather have the bush variety of wisteria that’s in bloom now.

Crossvine
 

The vine growing on and around the mailbox is blooming now, though not in the floridness of the photo (Google images). This is the second year it’s had flowers. The bud is a maroon capsule. On the underside is a hole with a white stamen that reminds me of a jack-in-the-pulpit. When it blooms, the flower has a deep throat of maroon and a yellow flange or collar. It does spread. So is it also on the "bad plants" list?


 


Another blooming plant in full array is what I have been calling the Yellow Rose of Texas, but the real name is Double Kerria Japonica, according to Bing. Recently, I cut out all the dead stalks and dead parts at the ends of stems and trimmed the privet, saw briars and honeysuckle from around it. Talk about invasive—honeysuckle and privet are also on the list of what NOT to plant.

Oh, oh, oh! Two pink buds are showing on the newly-planted Knock-Out rose! White and purple iris are blooming along the edges of the yard and around the oak stump. The dianthus that I’ve planted still look sprightly. Must get the others in the ground ASAP.

The five houseplants I took to the front porch seem to have weathered the back-and-forth nightly temps okay. Three ferns, a Chinese evergreen and a begonia look as healthy as when I moved them out. Now, for the others. Soon—and very soon.

I’m in the process of turning the hydrangea area north of the porch into a full-fledged bed. After trimming back the old stalks, raking the leaves and pulling out the English ivy (another non-native, invasive plant!) I scattered a layer of pea gravel and added a piece of driftwood. More dianthus will edge that bed and I’ll put some lantana between the small and the large plants. Hydrangeas can be rooted easily with a rock holding down a stalk at ground level until a new plant appears.

The ten-year-old azaleas (gifts after Mom’s death) have bloomed spottily this spring. The reason(s)? I didn’t deadhead last fall’s blossoms, and (hand over eyes) I didn’t feed them. But they ARE beginning to pink up.

Weren’t the lorapetalums gorgeous this spring? I’ve never seen the bushes so beautiful. And now, they are ready for the pruning blade.

I have pulled out handfuls of oxalis and yarrow plants—two other invasive-but-not-on-any-list I’ve seen—from the front beds. They are overtaking the cone flowers, the coreopsis and the Easter lilies. Janet Carson calls oxalis a weed, but I first remember seeing it in a hanging pot at Grandma Flossie’s. Like wild violets and privet, its bulbs somehow travel underground and the pink flowers pop up at the oddest places.
oxalis
 

Thrift and/ or creeping phlox is also bright and full right now. And my two-year old camellia bush from the Florida panhandle had two blossoms and a bud! Small ones, but still. . .

April is National Poetry Month, so indulge me further, please: "from the roadside trees/ a windblown pollen drift/ covering my car." (from in the rainy dark, 2005)

I trust that you will enjoy April in all its beauty.

















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