Found Out

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The gray path glided before me
Through cool, green shadows;
Little leaves hung in the soft air
Like drowsy moths;
A group of dark trees, gravely conferring,
Made me conscious of the gaucherie of sound;
Farther on, a slim lilac
Drew me down to her on the warm grass.
“How sweet is peace!”
My serene heart said.

Then, suddenly, in a curve of the road,
Red tulips!
A bright battalion, swaying,
They marched with fluttering flags,
And gay fifes playing!

A swift flame leapt in my heart;
I burned with passion;
I was tainted with cruelty;
I wanted to march in the wind,
To tear the silence with gay music,
And to slash the sober green
Until it sobbed and bled.

The tulips have found me out.
~Florence Ripley Mastin “Discovery”

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I travel gray misty pathways of day to day existence, quietly below the radar and scarcely noticeable. It is a peaceful life, quiet and unassuming, utterly routine.

Yet predictability and acceptability shatters sometimes without much notice — my inner red tulip is found out, fighting for freedom, however briefly.

You can’t say you haven’t been warned…

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The Color of Happiness

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Yellow is the color of the sun
The feeling of fun
A duck’s bill
A canary bird
And a daffodil
Yellow’s sweet corn
Ripe oats
Hummingbirds’ little throats
Summer squash and Chinese silk
The cream on top of Jersey milk
Dandelions and Daisy hearts
Custard pies and lemon tarts.
Yellow blinks on summer nights
In the off-and-on of firefly lights.
Yellow’s a topaz,
A candle flame
Felicity’s a yellow name.
Yellow’s mimosa,
And I guess,
Yellow’s the color of…
Happiness!
~Mary O’Neill from Hailstones and Halibut Bones

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An Evening in the Skagit Tulip Fields

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Fifty weeks of dirt rows
Plain and unnoticed.
Could be corn, could be beans
Could be anything;
Drive-by fly-over dull.

Yet April ignites an explosion:
Dazzling retinal hues
Singed, crying
Grateful tears for such as this
Grounded rainbow on Earth

Transient, incandescent
Brilliance hoped for.
Remembered in dreams,
Promises realized,
Housed in crystal before shattering.

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Reckless Blooms

photo by Kathy Yates
photo by Kathy Yates

Everything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.
~Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters of Rainer Maria Rilke

Perhaps there are places where spring blooms are reckless and shrieking in the night but the tulip fields in Skagit County, just south of where we live, is not one of them.

This is the home of carefully blended choral floral voices, harmonious and joyful, singing together to create a symphony of unforgettable visual grandeur.

In the heart of the night, there is only the contented hum of rows and rows of purring color stirring in the valley breezes, waiting for the dawn.

photo by Kathy Yates
photo by Kathy Yates
photo by KR Backwoods Photography
photo by KR Backwoods Photography

 

Grounded Rainbow



Fifty weeks of dirt rows
Plain and unnoticed.
Could be corn, could be beans
Could be anything;
Drive-by fly-over dull.

Yet April ignites an explosion:
Dazzling retinal hues
Singed, crying
Grateful tears for such as this
Rainbow on Earth

Transient, incandescent
Brilliance hoped for.
Remembered in dreams,
Promises realized,
Housed in crystal before shattering.

(thanks to Josh Scholten for photos of the Skagit Valley tulip fields)
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Grounded Rainbow

Skagit Tulip Fields photo by Tricia Hitchcock

Skagit Tulip Fields--photo by Tricia Hitchcock

Skagit Tulip Fields --photo by Tricia Hitchcock
Skagit Tulip Fields photos by Tricia Hitchcock

Fifty weeks of dirt rows
Plain and unnoticed.
Could be corn, could be beans
Could be anything;
Drive by fly over dull.

Yet April ignites explosion
Dazzling retinal singe;
Hues make me cry
Grateful tears for such as this
Rainbow on Earth

Transient, incandescent
Brilliance hoped for.
Remembered in dreams,
Promises realized,
Housed in crystal, then shattered.

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