Revised Idioms

     Revised Idioms 

If we’re clever, we can feed two birds with one scone.
After all, there’s more than one way to pet a cat. 
Let’s provide the straw that seasoned the camels snack.
Let’s leave all our eggs in the nests and save the basket
     for those lovely lemons life keeps dealing us.  

It may seem like we have to wait ‘till the cows go roam,
     or until we finally let the pigs fly, 
but changing our ways will be 
     easier than shooting 
     pictures of fish while surfing in a barrel,
     which is to say, 
difficult.  

But let’s start seeding around the bush.
People who live in glass houses should really grow seedlings.
Let’s turn under an old leaf
     making rich fertile compost.  
It’ll be like taking candy from a baby 
    and replacing it with a healthy homegrown peach.
To err is human. To try again, divine.
A switch in mind takes time.
After all, Rome didn’t topple in a day.
Curiosity took but one of the cat’s lives...
     the other eight died of boredom and apathy.

Trees don’t grow on money, you know.
A fool and his free time are easily parted by money. 
A penny slaved is a moment burned.
And that guy with the bird in his hand is a swindler,
     the two in the bush are priceless.
Life boils down to survival of the fittest. That is,
     those that fit the best on this beautiful, interconnected planet
     persevere indefinitely.  
Don’t put all your legs in one casket.
Divide and conquer? 
Rather, unite and concur!  
It’s a dog greet dog world. 
Splints and salves can mend our wounds, but words can truly heal us.
When it comes down to it, 
     laughter is the best medicine
     and he who laughs last 
laughs alone.

So let’s go out on a limb and watch the sunset.
We’ll talk of how the proverbial glass is completely full… 
     half clean water, half fresh air.
Come, the hour’s getting late.
Who cares if the shoe fits... 
     bare it!

Fairview Gardens painting

I made this painting last Friday at the ribbon cutting for the newly re-opened farm stand at Fairview Gardens.  I was painting with artist friends Chris Potter http://chrispotterart.blogspot.com and Kit Boise-Cossart http://kitboise-cossart.com.  Stop by when you get a chance and pick up some beautiful locally grown produce.  The paintings are for sale in the stand and half of the proceeds benefit the education programs at the farm.

Fairview Gardens

Nature is a Gardener

Nature is a Gardener

Plants are her purest expression,
      spending their days eating sunlight and
      expelling a dazzling display
          of scents,
          colors
          and flavors.
Gophers are just tools to plow the earth.
Birds and squirrels sow the seeds.
Deer are nice quiet lawnmowers.
Owls, snakes and ladybugs?   Pest control.
Goats do the pruning.
Beavers are merely complex irrigation systems,
      and bees... the hardworking genetic engineers.
Everybody does their share of the fertilizing
      and composting
      at one point or another,
      but other than that, I have to ask,
“What kind of gardening tool am I?”

lawnmower

The Creek’s Eyes

“What happened???”
      soap plant asks in amazement as it pokes its green tuft 
      of leaves into the sun after its hibernation,
      snuggled underground in summer slumber,
      in dry paper wrappers with the other wet season bulbs.
There is no reply from his few remaining charred neighbors.
Sourgrass,
      awakened by the first rainfall since April
      stretches out its dangly yellow arms,
      equally stunned,
but not disappointed with the new view of the ocean.
“Wildfire,” yawns rattlesnake,
      slithering into a den to sleep away winter:
            the frost,
            the mushrooms and mudslides,
      the canadian geese calling on their flight path south.
“The light contains all things and all things contain the light,”
      call the geese from overhead
      as they chase summer southward,
      quoting Dogen, I believe.

And here I am, sketching up an echoless canyon among 
      shadowless trees,
      thinking of how people are like
      floating bubbles on a stream,
           three-hundred and sixty degree traveling mirrors,
           reflecting the world and each other.
           arising and popping unexpectedly:
      the creek’s eyes.
And it’s fascinating to think of what plants and animals miss 
      out on in their cycles of dormancy-
           napping away entire seasons
      blind in their own cocoons.

Snacking now,
carefully peeling wrappers from a hard-boiled egg and some 
      sunflower seeds,
      a satisfied bubble enjoying the stream,
      I wonder about my own blind spots,
      which I quickly decide don’t exist,
since I can’t see them.