Barrel Cactus Fruit

Many cactus plants have edible fruit. This is a barrel cactus or Ferocactus wislizeni. It is a common cactus in the Arizona Sonora Desert and was used as food by the Native American populations. Most people of European ancestry probably would not recognize this as a delicious edible fruit. We used to make Prickly Pear jelly and syrup every year. Now we live far from the lower desert and enjoy a variety of other fruits in season. Here is an excerpt of a poem about fruit.

Not all is lost–the fruit remains
That ripened through the summer's ray;
The nurslings of the nest are gone,
Yet hear we still their warbling lay.

The glory of the summer sky
May change to tints of autumn hue;
But faith that sheds its amber light
Will lend our heaven a tender blue.

O altar of eternal youth!
O faith that beckons from afar,
Give to our lives a blossomed fruit–
Give to our morns an evening star!

from Ripened Fruit by Thomas O'Hagen

A Late Winter Storm

We had one last winter storm that coated the trees and made the roads slippery for a while. Subsequently, the temperatures soared into the 40s and 50s so scenes like this disappeared to be replaced with the brown of winter. But the iris are growing and other flowers are poking up. Here is a selection of a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson that has always stuck with me from my youth.

Come see the north wind's masonry.
Out of an unseen quarry evermore
Furnished with tile, the fierce artificer
Curves his white bastions with projected roof
Round every windward stake, or tree, or door.
Speeding, the myriad-handed, his wild work
So fanciful, so savage, nought cares he
For number or proportion. Mockingly,
On coop or kennel he hangs Parian wreaths;
A swan-like form invests the hidden thorn;
Fills up the farmer's lane from wall to wall,
Maugre the farmer's sighs; and, at the gate,
A tapering turret overtops the work.
And when his hours are numbered, and the world
Is all his own, retiring, as he were not,
Leaves, when the sun appears, astonished Art
To mimic in slow structures, stone by stone,
Built in an age, the mad wind's night-work,
The frolic architecture of the snow.
Selection of a portion of The Snow Storm by Ralph Waldo Emerson

Parasol Mushrooms

These beautiful mushrooms are likely Parasol Mushrooms or Macrolepiota procera or Lepiota procera. I find that mushrooms are very difficult to identify and if you cannot distinguish between species the results can be fatal. I have never tried eating a wild mushroom for that reason. Here is an excerpt from a poem by Gershon Hepner. See Mushrooms - Poem by Gershon Hepner. 

They only fruit when they are sure
that they are bound to die,
and only threat of death will lure
most mushrooms to your pie.
They love to grow where there’s manure,
for fungi all rely
on what's excrescent and impure
to help them multiply.
gershon hepner

Return to Bloom Where You Are Planted

“Silently a flower blooms,
In silence it falls away;
Yet here now, at this moment, at this place,
The world of the flower, the whole of
the world is blooming.
This is the talk of the flower, the truth
of the blossom:
The glory of eternal life is fully shining here.”
-Zenkei Shibayama 

I was reading and writing poetry for most of my early life. But for many years I have been involved with the visual world of poetry through photography. Now it is the time of my life to bring the poetry of photography to the poetry of words.

A Bright Spot in you Day

We just had a big March snowstorm and it seems like Spring is still down the road. I thought this closeup of a colorful water lily might brighten your day if you are seeing clouds and more snow coming like we are. Here is part of Thomas Gray's poem, Ode to Spring.

Lo! where the rosy-bosom'd Hours,
Fair Venus' train appear,
Disclose the long-expecting flowers,
And wake the purple year!
The Attic warbler pours her throat,
Responsive to the cuckoo's note,
The untaught harmony of spring:
While whisp'ring pleasure as they fly,
Cool zephyrs thro' the clear blue sky
Their gather'd fragrance fling.

Where'er the oak's thick branches stretch
A broader, browner shade;
Where'er the rude and moss-grown beech
O'er-canopies the glade,
Beside some water's rushy brink
With me the Muse shall sit, and think
(At ease reclin'd in rustic state)
How vain the ardour of the crowd,
How low, how little are the proud,
How indigent the great!

Koi Fish

Koi fish are often found in decorative ponds. Here is a short explanation of them from Wikipedia: Koi:

Koi (鯉, English: /ˈkɔɪ/, Japanese: [koꜜi]) or more specifically nishikigoi (錦鯉, [ɲiɕi̥kiꜜɡoi], literally "brocaded carp"), are colored varieties of Amur carp (Cyprinus rubrofuscus) that are kept for decorative purposes in outdoor koi ponds or water gardens.
Koi is an informal group of the colored variants of C. carpio. Several varieties are recognized by the Japanese. Koi varieties are distinguished by coloration, patterning, and scalation. Some of the major colors are white, black, red, orange, yellow, blue, and cream. The most popular category of koi is the Gosanke, which is made up of the Kohaku, Taisho Sanshoku, and Showa Sanshoku varieties.

I have very little experience with fish or fishing but I do know that carp are only edible when they come from a pond, lake, stream, or river that is not polluted. When I was young, I heard about how to cook a carp. You cook it on a board until the meat is tender and well cooked and then you eat the board.

How Doth the Little Busy Bee

How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!

How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.

In works of labor or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.

In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.

Isaac Watts 1664 - 1748 wrote this poem and about 750 hymns.