Blast's bouquet photobombed

Blast brought me this lovely bouquet yesterday. It was so hot inside the car that I took the lovely bunch in with us and asked the hostess at the lunch spot we went to if I could just leave them with her while we ate. I knew they would be a wilted and sad sight if left to bake in the steaming hot car. When we were ready to leave after lunch I asked to collect them. The friendly hostess wondered if they were for a birthday celebration. I went on to explain about our international blipmeet, internet connections, fine friendships forged from photographs. It is rather a extraordinary phenomena and a bit difficult for others to grasp. A traveler in another country, takes a ferry trip to meet a person they have never actually met and happily gets in said person's car. They drive off secure in the fact that they really do know each other and have absolutely nothing to worry about. Conversations just naturally begin, continue and other virtual friends weave their way into the stories, the sharing. Penpals spanning the globe with a high tech twist, thanks to the internet and blipfoto.

Kendall's comment spurred me to post this poem...

Peonies
 A Poem by Mary Oliver



This morning the green fists of the peonies are getting ready

to break my heart

as the sun rises, 

as the sun strokes them with his old, buttery fingers

and they open —

pools of lace, 

white and pink —

and all day the black ants climb over them,

boring their deep and mysterious holes

into the curls, 

craving the sweet sap, 

taking it away

to their dark, underground cities —

and all day

under the shifty wind, 

as in a dance to the great wedding,

the flowers bend their bright bodies, 

and tip their fragrance to the air, 

and rise, 

their red stems holding

all that dampness and recklessness 

gladly and lightly, 

and there it is again — 

beauty the brave, the exemplary,

blazing open. 

Do you love this world? 

Do you cherish your humble and silky life? 

Do you adore the green grass, with its terror beneath?

Do you also hurry, half-dressed and barefoot, into the garden, 

and softly, 

and exclaiming of their dearness, 

fill your arms with the white and pink flowers,

with their honeyed heaviness, their lush trembling, 

their eagerness

to be wild and perfect for a moment, before they are

nothing, forever?

 

from New And Selected Poems by Mary Oliver 

(c) Mary Oliver

For the Record,
This day came in hot and humid, my most detested weather conditions, ugh. 

All hands healthy


Happy First Birthday to our precious great nephews, J & L. This extra photo was taken in May, we'll be seeing them soon.