Swing In A Tree: 2023-03-19

Thursday, March 23, 2023

"April's Fool"

I kneel in awe each spring

Worshiping nature’s rebirth

Stomach flattening to Earth’s coolness

My lens captures the first blush of blossoms

The constancy of nature

Makes me an April’s Fool

Trespassing over field and farm

For one perfect shot

During our first year of marriage, David and I invested our limited funds into two sleek, 10-speed bicycles and a used Pentax 35mm camera. Both purchases provided us with endless, low budget possibilities. With our bicycles, we could explore the entire San Antonio area by either heading into town or riding to the outskirts. If we had a little money, we rode down to the San Antonio Zoo, purchased two tickets to spend the day on hunting the perfect shot of a snow leopard or howler monkey. On weekends when we were truly penniless, we traveled to parks or headed down Loop 1604 to duck under I10 and loop through small towns like St. Hedwig. We took our camera everywhere. At that time, every click of the camera cost money for developing photographs. We diligently wrote down F-stops and ISO numbers in a small notebook as a record to compare to the final print. We strove to make every click of that camera count.

One March morning, we biked over to St. Hedwig and discovered vast fields of spring wildflowers. I remember kneeling down into the dew drenched grass to take my first shot. That picture started an annual tradition for us. We broadened our journey when we shifted to driving our car. We welcomed a digital Cannon Rebel Ti into our lives. It took months before I embraced the freedom of firing off as many shots as I wanted after so many years of hoarding my film, but I grew to love the abandon I feel on these new creative quests.

Once I began blogging, my tradition of taking wildflower pictures shifted to sharing the results with not only friends and family, but with readers from Europe, Australia, and even Asia.

This year, we did our usual trek to St. Hedwig and to our Live Oak Park. However, we added a new location to our tradition with Wildseed Farms in Fredericksburg, Texas. (https://www.wildseedfarms.com/)

I think you’ll love the newest flowers that I can now share!

"Spring Time in Texas"

If I could, I’d pause this time of year and let it linger for month after month. The cooler nights mean I slide my windows open and slumber with scents of honeysuckle and rose. My air conditioner stands silent and still as soft breezes waft into each room. Outside, a polarized filter refines leaves, deepens the sky to cerulean, and cuts daylight and shadow into razor-sharp relief. A trip down any road takes me to fields of wildflowers, a photographer’s paradise. Point and shoot. Perfect moments stretch out eternally.

"This Is Texas"

Mountain Laurel out front

The air conditioner hummed, churning out cool air since the outside thermometer climbed. As usual, Texas teased everyone with an early taste of spring. Our weather casters gleefully warned, though, that one more blast of cold air will surge from the north, plunging our temperatures once again.

Rose out back

During the night, this rush of artic breath exhaled, and Texas shivered. All of the blossoms on the trees screamed, the buds of my roses yowled at the biting wind, the birds retreated to huddle in nests, and the squirrels in our backyard despaired because they threw out the tuffs of cushion padding they’d collected all winter.

I sit smugly at my monitor, fully confident that this final flirt with freeze will usher in spring. Every March, around my parents’ wedding anniversary, winter invades our home one more time. With the fury of a thwarted two-year-old, winds will howl. Sometimes we’ve had rain and ice with this final tantrum. Sometimes hail the size of golf balls hammer our roofs and dent our cars. Sometimes snow flurries whirl and swirl, leaving the ground dusted in white.

I respect this final ferocious fit of winter.

Clover peeking through the new woven fence

"A Field of Flowers"

The seed
planted deep into the warm womb
protected by shell and earth
softens under ground
as skies weep and weep
it feeds upon itself
planted deep into the warm womb
protected by shell and earth
softens under ground
as skies weep and weep
it feeds upon itself
drawing upon stored energy
until a fragile spout forms
roots, like fairy hair, seek purchase
security
they hold tightly to the nurturing mother
confident of her care
the shoot breaks into sunshine
unfolds tender leaves
trusting in the gentleness of spring
when killing frosts
die
sheltered from whips of wind
buds bloom
into the glorious promise of life
sprinkled with morning dew
blossoming with hope
for a field of flowers

"The Second Spring"

That Spring the dew nourished us with fresh gentleness and endless hope
The world sharpened into polarized crispness with infinite scope
With loneliness, I strolled in an open meadow of wild flowers
Always longing for some answers as I strolled away the hours
I fell in love with the troubadour singing ballads and love songs
The youth of tawny hair, sinewy muscle—a heart true and strong
The artist stroking bold vibrant colors on a pristine canvas
The man embracing the possibilities of our love’s success
Moving from son to lover to father, he grew in each season
He donned robes of responsibility with capable reason
From sun to moon and moon to sun, our lifelines entwined forever
Through time’s heartbreaks and new challenges, we always stood together
Our youthful promise dried and died under an endless summer’s heat
Together we survived the long drought that led to other’s defeat
And now we enter the Second Spring where azaleas bloom all year
Paintbrushes, bluebonnets, and thistles blanket meadows both far and near
In the Second Spring love flows strong, and it sings in notes pure and true
It flourishes and grows in bountiful joy that’s forever new

Wednesday, March 22, 2023

"Full Circle"

The week began with a mother lost
her children writing of beauty and peace
sharing private moments of tenderness
bringing in light, grace and acceptance
listening for the music of the eternal last dance
The week ended with a mother found
joyously announcing their future
sharing with anticipation
the possibilities of parenthood
listening for the music of a child

"Tone of Voice"

I’m okay, fine
she whispers without eye contact
I’ve got it handled
Don’t worry
He misses the hollowness of her words
overlooks her subtle cues—
her Woman Speak
She tucks her feet onto the couch,
pulls herself into a tight ball under a red throw
stares at the television without seeing
sighing deeply
Oblivious, he flips the channel
to his station
assuming—
all’s right
content to listen to her words
instead of her tone of voice
Her annoyance and sadness battle across her features
surreptitiously, she wipes her silent tears
waits for him to notice her heaviness
His attention rivets on the game
its motion mesmerizes him
takes him away and isolates her
She grabs hold of anger over sorrow
indignation throws her off the couch
propels her into their bedroom
fuels the door slam
He sits with bewilderment
lost
Cautiously, he approaches the closed door
tentatively tapping
Can I do something?
No. I’m okay, fine
I’ve got it handled
Don’t worry
He opens the door anyway
pulls her into his arms
In tenderness, he wipes the tears from her face
We’ll handle it
he soothes and reassures with understanding

David Chapman-artist

"Vertigo"

Pre-dawn

I stir in bed, freeing legs from binding covers and sleeping dogs

Red digits proclaim 4 AM

I inhale frustration—wakefulness before sunrise

Feet to floor, I sit up

And spin

Have I entered Dr. Seuss’s world?

My lopsided room tips me sideways

Askew and drunken

I stagger a few steps trying to shake off my slumber

Caution takes my hand, gentles me back to bed

Mystified, I try to focus upon the closet doors

Defiant, they refuse to hold still

Jumping left, then right, then left again

I close my eyes

Willing stillness

As if, by my determination alone, I’d control my world

Command the spiraling

Force it to stop

But the twirling and swirling continue against my bidding

Resigned, I retreat into sleep’s protective fortress

"Frustration"

A gray mist engulfs me
            Substance without form
                        Not there—but there
I inhale bitterness
and its parasitic nature
            Infiltrates me
                        My lungs pull it inward
                        as I gasp for breath
                        trying to exhale its pungent mold
                        trying to breathe as it weighs me down
                                                presses against me
                                                            from inside
                                    Invading my body
                                    freezing my logic
                                                pulling me into panic
            because I can change nothing
                        It
            has no form—
                        nothing to hold onto
                                    or push away
A gray mist

"Insomnia"

He inters uninvited, a shadow cast across my bed
He lurks just beyond my vision
His onion breath jars me to alertness, yanking me out of sleep
He lays heavy-limbed next to me
He pins me under his arm, making it impossible to breathe
His bristled beard rubs my shoulder raw
In panic, I pull away
I kick my feet free of the binding blankets
I elbow him in the chest, desperate for escape
Heart racing, I bolt from the bed to see him sneer in pleasure
His victory rests in my wakefulness
He silently slips from my bed when I turn on the light
In triumph, he vanishes, a shadow in the night

David Chapman-artist

"An Old Friend"

She’s an old friend,
just a co-worker now—an acquaintance
We smile when we pass in the hall
We share complaints about classes, victories with kids
Lately, she’s lost her smile
Her usual elegance fades
Her eyes, downcast as she walks, miss my smiled greetings
Someone whispers a rumor
asks what I know—me, the ostrich with her head in the sand
I look around
Suddenly I see her loss
realize her shock and grief
Stunned, I see them together—
as she must see them, too
He sniffs around the other woman like she’s a bitch in heat
They drive up in the same car
step out for lunch
stand together in the hallway
flirtatiously laughing
body language that screams—Couple
What words can I offer?
advice, as they say, is cheap
How do I let her know I care
without letting her painfully realize—
I know
(just like everyone else)
I can talk to her, try to listen, try to be around just a little more
Her other friends and I can form a safety net
but we can’t protect her from anger, loss, grief
We see it in her eyes
in the way she moves now
I remember another time when she had no net
her loss almost killed her
So, I’ll stand guard

"Apology"

Sorrow fills me
I disappointed you
            let you down
I didn’t see your struggle
            hear your plea
            pay attention
I let my obsessions bleed into your heart
I took my desires and poured them into your life
Now you overflow
            with my pettiness
Shame fills me
            weighs my movements and halts my thoughts
I hurt you
            caused you distress
I didn’t listen to your words
            watch your face
            walk in your shoes
I am sorry
            chokes my breath and spills from my eyes

"Anxiety"

calls in greeting with the bright full moon

dances in my blood with the flux of hormones

recognizes my fears and delights in them

throws back her head and laughs with glee

dashes from neuron to neuron in abandon

stops my heart with an iron grasp

catches my breath and won’t let it go

haunts every night with racing thoughts

creates possibilities out of mist

ebbs and flows throughout the months

curls in the pit of my stomach like a knotted rope

holds me prisoner within my mind

Tuesday, March 21, 2023

"Missed Opportunities"

you judged me

never listened to my words

never learned of my dreams

never accepted my strength

you excluded me

never extended an invitation

never initiated friendship

never offered belonging

you hurt me

never helped without games

never explained all the rules

never proposed compromise

you hardened me

never allowed for differences

never acknowledged my wounds

never tolerated my spirit

you lost me

never experienced my humor

never encouraged my independence

never received my respect