Rain - grace grits and gardening

J is for Joy!

April 11, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner

O
to
see
that
first
spring
blossom
Relief of
a cold snap
after a long
Texas August
Wheat harvest
Smell of cotton
Poppa Rolla Pizza
Pink sunrise and
steaming coffee
Girlfriend time
Vintage things
Amazing Grace
Dog greeting
Home cooked
meals Wine
Creating
Writing
Family
Trees
Lake
You
Us
♥
talya

“Scatter joy!” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Musical Pairing:

Joy To The World, Three Dog Night

Note: This poem is a snowball losange – each line of text is one character longer than the prior then shrinks one character shorter to the end.

Rain and Roses

March 10, 2013 By Talya Tate Boerner

Roses, hungry and bare,
Of blooms, I fertilized only hours ago.
Saturday’s clouds brought drizzle, an
Even, soaking rain. Sunday morning
Surprise—rose buds smiling in the wind.

“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

talya

Musical Pairing:

Sweet Dreams, Eurythmics

Like the First Morning

August 15, 2012 By Talya Tate Boerner

Finally. A soaking rain in Dallas. Complete with an impressive lightning display cracking and splitting the black sky into puzzle pieces, illuminating my late night bedroom. Lucy and Annabelle, having forgotten the sensation, burrowed deeply underneath the bedsheet, touching my toes. Sleeping weather.

This morning, an extra long walk, the temperature unexpectedly pleasant after the rain. Water puddled on the sidewalks and streets. Honest to goodness puddles capable of respectable splashes. Forty years ago I would have sloshed right through each water hole wearing bright yellow rain boots.

The birds appreciated the rare rain. Joyful, chirping and chattering, sounding more like early spring than tired summer. Like the first morning, like the first bird.

The trees, relieved, stood a bit taller. For a brief moment, the entire city was relieved, fresh from the world.

An unseen squirrel scampering on an overhead branch doused us with rainwater from drippy leaves. On purpose I think. Forty years ago I would have shaken the branches myself, running underneath the shower like a backyard sprinkler. In my bright yellow rain boots.

The rain enhanced the morning smells, intensifying the dirt and grass and pollen. Underneath a neighbor’s cedar tree, the aroma was intoxicating, the peppery smell itching my nose, making me sneeze. Lucy and Annabelle rooted around like armadillos.

Nearly back home, I slipped off my tennis shoes and walked barefoot, my feet sinking into the sweetness of the spongy grass. Like the first day.