Spring for Some

Spring for Some

By Leslie Noyes

Spring comes early in Florida.

Flowers blossom and the grass grows taller. Bees pollinate, birds court, squirrels scamper. It’s a time of life and renewal.

But as I walked around my yard today taking these photos I was overcome with grief. Surrounded by this display of life in bloom, I stopped to pray for those whose lives were cut short by a gunman last week in Parkland, Florida. Seventeen people who won’t experience spring’s beauty. Young people who will never get to hold their own babies or experience the joy of being a grandparent, growing old with their spouses. I prayed, too, for their families whose lives will never be the same.

One individual with a high-powered rifle ended the hopes and dreams of 17 people in less than five minutes. Was he mentally ill? Perhaps. Did society fail him? More than likely. Did numerous agencies fail to do their jobs? Perhaps, but until someone commits a crime these agencies often have their hands tied. If he hadn’t had easy access to guns would he have found another way to attack? It’s possible. BUT, he DID have easy access to guns, and this access allowed him to literally destroy 17 lives and figuratively destroy hundreds of others.

So stop with your second amendment talking points. Let’s do the right thing and begin looking at real solutions to gun violence in this country.

Peace, please, people.

Harva’s Place

Prairie sky resplendent in ozone scented spring

Promises made by rainbow’s arch spatter way out yonder

Concerned eyes watch storm’s progression stringing out hope for moisture

In a land that’s always thirsty, cumulonimbus delivers mixed blessings.

Distant rumbles echo over endless grassy acres, singing the clouds home.

My friend Ann (a.k.a. Harva) shot this picture on her land Monday afternoon. There is nothing like a prairie storm.

Waiting On Grandchildren

Grandchildren are
life changers,
deal sealers
harbingers of better
days to come,
like spring’s first
robin.
Waiting for their
promised arrival
with countless
pacings to the
windowpane
curtains pushed aside
every crunch
on the drive,
each distant 
chirping,
waxing then waning in
doppler-tuned ears.
And then a glimpse,
a hush
and a rush of
excitement.
Hold still
robins.
Stay awhile.

Leaf Life

life had much promise
for you two seasons ago,
green budding leafling.

  
spring urged you forward
out of yearning innocence
a mere suggestion.

hot summer hinted
eternity can be yours
live forever leaf!

alas, autumn came
transforming green to orange
with one final stroke.

  
rest peacefully now
released from your life’s struggle
to crunch underfoot.

  

Mayhaw Festival

I’m a big fan of festivals. All festivals. I don’t care what’s being celebrated or honored or paraded, if there’s a festival within easy driving distance I’m there. After all, every festival needs a queen. I’d love to be queen.

This past Saturday while Studly was playing golf I drove about 35 miles east to the Mayhaw Festival held at Golden Acres ranch just outside of Monticello, Florida.  I had no idea what a Mayhaw was, but it sounded vaguely Southern so I couldn’t wait to see what this festival was all about. 


In my excitement I failed to check event times and arrived just about the same time that the various exhibitors were setting up. Oops. I wandered around and visited with folks, but there wasn’t a lot going on. 

However, the morning weather was absolutely gorgeous without the heavy humidity and heat that would set in later in the morning. Maybe early was better after all. My chances of being named Queen increased significantly with me being one of the few women present. 
  

This gorgeous rooster and I kind of bonded. He followed me around like a little lamb. But My name isn’t Mary and he was no lamb. I think he wanted me to join his harem. I respectfully declined. I did ask him if I could be Queen of the Mayhaw Festival. He just said, “cockahahaha!”

  
This baby Pygmy goat was three weeks old. Her name was Daisy and she was a big hit with the few children in attendance. When I asked Daisy what my chances of being named Mayhaw Queen were she said, “baaaaaad” 

 
I bought a couple of items. On the left is a jar of salsa. I’m opening it tonight. On the right is a jar of Mayhaw jelly. I asked what a Mayhaw was before making my purchase, after all I’m not a complete idiot. Mayhaws are small red berries that resemble cranberries. The sample taste was pleasant–tart and rich. 

  
As festivals go this one was pretty laid back. Maybe if I’d stuck around the activity might have increased. But, the temps were headed up into the 90’s on Saturday, and I’m such a delicate little flower that I headed home for a nice long (three hour!) nap.

Festivals are common in this area during the spring and summer, and I’ve started looking for one to attend next weekend. I’d really like one willing to name me Queen over the proceedings. I’d ride in the parade in a lovely   gown of fuschia or purple or lime green and wave at all the little people.

Peace, little people!