Skip to main content

a city without flowers

brooding

My heart is quiet and dark; brooding like the clouds hanging in this morning’s sky. Just when I think I’ll start to write happy thoughts, which seem trite given happenings in my world and in the very lives of my friends and family, I’m reminded of what my voice has to say.


Injustice and sadness exist. That is a fact. 


But, you know what? It takes really dark skies to see the stars. Darkness will never overwhelm light. Light, however, always lights up the dark. That is also a fact; one that I cling to desperately.

There was a drought of beauty; all was devoid, stark and barren
Horizons held nothing to be desired, stripped and robbed of blossoms ripped and banned from the earth
Photos, prints piled and discarded
The only flowers remaining housed in vague memories
How had the town reached this conclusion?
Fragrance was absent
No sound of buzzing bees or gossamer dragons darting in the sky
Senses dulled and snuffed out to the miracles of existence
Hearts turned to concrete, steeled against soft petals to caress the cheek
A city awash in bland
Silent utterance, book of days, show your promise
Breathe seeds of expectation in empty places
A tiny shoot breaks the fallow bare, disturbing the ground with flowers


ray of sunshine flowers

There was a guy that my baby worked with in PDX that dubbed himself the “flower bomber.” He always had sunflower seeds in his pocket and would randomly drop them around in places wanting of life. 

It may seem like an altruistic, pie-in-the-sky, rose-colored glasses view, but that’s the type of person I want to be; a person not devoid of flowers and softness and care, one who brings seeds of expectation to empty places. Did you know it takes broken soil for a seed to grow?

Desperately flower bombing my world –

Missy


If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

urban girl in the country

green in concrete For the last lot-of-years I’ve lived in urban areas.  I’ve become a city girl with hints of a flower child mixed with hipster nuances…translated I like to wear skinny jeans.  This is the total opposite of how I grew up, which was on a farm.  My paternal grandparents grew, raised, caught and hunted for everything they ate – radical organic, free-range stuff.  On my Mom’s side of the fam tree, there were green grocers and orchard growers.  Heck, I was in 4-H raising feeder calves and a small flock of wooly sheep.  Gardens, canning, freezing and preserving everything was the ordinary. I carried on the gardening-preserving, saving the spoils piece, until I found myself in fresh veggie-at-a-farmer’s-market heaven!  The foreign city I found myself in had a temperate climate where fruit and vegetables could be grown year ‘round, and … it was sold at a giant open air market every week.  Yippee!  I no longer needed to ...

In full abandon, straining on tiptoes

A scrap of paper tucked in my journal is full of scribbled notes and words, people’s names – really it would appear to be miscellany.  One phrase is “in full abandon.”  The expression had a reference, but now reading it almost daily, it takes on new significance and worth. a.ban.don:  to leave and never return (Merriam-Webster) The word “abandon” conjures negative thinking; abandoned lot, abandoned project, abandoned people. Places and things are left for trash or individuals that have been discarded and tossed aside.  This definition certainly leaves one feeling rather desolate and, well … abandoned. On the sunny side of the street, abandon is also yielding without restraint, to give up control.  It’s bursting with exuberance. Picture being in full abandon:  there’s a child running down a hillside, arms flailing and legs barely able to keep them upright.  He is on the verge of tumbling head over heels, but somehow if that happen...

road tripping: french glen and steens mountain

we took a stinkin' lot of dirt roads, but i wouldn't have it any other way The drive wasn’t long by west coast standards, a mere few of hours; which meant there was plenty of leisure (interpreted coffee time) before leaving on another road trip escapade.  I can’t begin to tell you how much fun it is to pack a bag, gas up the car and set out to see what can be seen. An interesting thing I’ve discovered on these exploits, is that having lived in Oregon for the majority of my life, I’ve missed “seeing” a lot of things. You know, I think we all get into the habit of going to the same places, which is a good thing, but we forget about the “other” places that are right in our own backyards. Case in point, yesterday afternoon, when my darling man and I went to Tumalo Falls. I’ve been to Skyliner Snow Park, but never gone the few more dirt road miles to see the falls. Holy cow! Is that lame, or what? a sweet little place, no frills, but plenty of yesteryear ...