Twisted, or Not Straight Lines #photo-challenge

WP Weekly #Photo-Challenge: Twisted.

Willow Tree seeds with Cotoneaster Flowers (2018/05/24)

I am quite disappointed that the last prompt for the WP Weekly Photo Challenge will be posted next Wednesday, the last Wednesday in May. I will have to find (or create for myself) a substitute challenge using the “official tag”, which I didn’t realize existed.

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In Transition | Weekly Photography Challenge: Liquid

In response to the Weekly Photo Challenge prompt on 16 May 2018: Liquid. As the morning’s sunlight hits the eastern windows in late December, the frost ferns transition slowly to drops of water. Gradually, the window panes become dry and clear.

Place + Time | WPC: Place in the World

Memories of May

Place in the World

A bit of nostalgia associated with May: Mother’s Day and Memorial Day. Both meaningful times in our family. Place and time are closely associated in memory. Returning home. The sounds of squirrels and birds. The rain and running water. The familiar smells. But that home—the home that we remember—is not there, anymore.

WPC’s Weekly Photo Challenge: Place in the World.

Monday’s Flowers

The cold weather last night was hard on the tulips. These photographs are from last Monday. I did get outside for photographs, also, in spite of the winds. Not all of the tulips had opened up, yet, and so I am hopeful that the next batch will bloom and be photographed in turn.

Today I am engaged in sorting, tossing, shredding, &c, to regain enough bookshelf space that I can organize and put away at least the books that have migrated to my bed sitting room. Before I get on my exercise bike, which lives in the gazebo (which is now minus Al’s mother’s one-seat balcony swing, having gone off with a sister), I must remember to turn on the space heater for half an hour. Otherwise I might freeze to death!

Lizl

P.S. I really do enjoy the sorting/tossing…but I don’t think I’ve done a thorough job of it since we got married, twenty-five years ago, and I moved from apartment to the house.

Sunday Tulips | My Spring Garden

The cold temperatures and rain lasted long enough that we did not get garden spaces cleaned out before plants began to come up. I have since (this last week) thrown down some flower seed in the back garden (mixed California poppy, annual blue wild flax) and the south side of the house, after adding old coffee grounds from last summer and some peat moss: nasturtiums (an extra seed packet that came with an order) and annual blue wild flax. I have more flax seed and half of a wild-flower mix that I got last year, which came up nicely.

We also have dandelions and wild violets in the yard.

 

 

 

#NaPoWriMo2018 Grasshopper poem

I decided to go back to yesterday’s poetry prompts list and write a poem to go with my favorite grasshopper photograph.

Brewer: “For today’s prompt, pick an insect (any insect), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Praying Mantis,” “Ants,” and “Grasshoppers.” I’ll even except other creepy crawlies, like spiders, slugs, and leeches (shiver). Sorry in advance if this prompt gives you the heebie-jeebies; feel free to use insect repellent in your verse.”

Suave Photo Subject (Photo © by Elizabeth W. Bennefeld. All rights reserved).

“Grasshopper”

one warm summer day
a debonair grasshopper
dines on a flower

spotting a street photographer
he grins between bites and bows

Copyright © 2018-04-14, by Elizabeth Bennefeld.

The Week that Was…Sleepy

Charlie, Taking an Evening Nap

I have been taking a lot of naps, this past week. I also have not slept well during the night. Not sure which is the cause, and which is the effect. Sunday evening, I went to bed before nine o’clock and fell asleep directly. While I did wake up around two o’clock in the morning, I managed to sleep again until eight-thirty, when Al woke me.

The weather has been quite warm, this week. For a while it looked as though there would be snow accumulation by bedtime, but I don’t think it ever got cold enough. Mostly, there was light rain to help melt away the edges of the remaining snowbanks around the yard. Except for the north side of the garden shed, where because the sun never hits that side, the ice keeping the door from opening is the last to melt away in the spring.

I have been concentrating on not concentrating on anything other than chores and minding my diet. Saw the dentist, last Wednesday, and have to go in next week for fitting the crown and taking filling a small cavity. The numbness is only now fading from the local anesthetic. May try having the cavity filled without using the topical or local, since the cavity is small. Goes much better when it can be managed.

Tonight I am up late, once again. Reading, this time. The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted, a change of pace, having reread The Others series (Anne Bishop) from beginning through Lake Silence.

Too much to think about, the lot of it distracting me, when I would rather relax and recuperate. And so I seem to be managing that. My last BG reading was in the 90s, BP 109/61, and my blood oxygen level is at 97% and holding up without breathing exercises, for a change. I even spent twenty minutes or so on the elliptical machine, this morning. (That would be Monday morning.) The day blends into the next without my noticing. Before I married, when I started freelance editing/writing, I would sleep when tired, work when not, and eat when I remembered to do so. Totally unstructured. It was so much easier, all boundaries but the walls, floor and ceiling of the apartment and contents seeming amorphous.

As during my college years. I wonder if I will attend the 50th class reunion events, come autumn. I floated through those years, also, and many years after. Unstructured. Absorbing. Writing poetry, constructing crossword puzzles, journaling…reading everything and playing the piano a lot. I think I didn’t pay attention. Not to the outside.

I ask myself if I would change that, were I able. And I think not. I have arrived here, and I like it.

I will like it if I go to sleep before two o’clock. That would be about twelve hours since I started writing this post.

Good night!

After the Storm

Cotoneaster fruit after yesterday’s winter storm, the bush to the east of the garden shed. We got quite a lot of snow, here. March typically has more snowfall than February. Because it’s warmer, I think.

old memories
surface when the silent snow falls
voices…music…wind

Copyright © 2018-03-05
Lizl Bennefeld
Fargo, N.D. USA