Pressed Flower Beauty

My husband recently received a thank-you card decorated with pressed flower art. I liked it so much that I cut out the flower arrangement and pasted it to a piece of card stock to make a bookmark. Then I thought, ah ha! Everything is coming into bloom in the garden. What a perfect time to take up a new hobby! I can save my cherished blossoms to enjoy when spring has passed and make home-made note cards. So I ordered a flower press and bought a how-to book. Pressed Flower Art by W. Eugene Burkhart Jr. was extremely helpful. It was a little pricey, but well worth it. The book included an abundance of colored photos and detailed instructions on everything I needed to know to learn this charming art form.

Yesterday, I filled my new flower press with blossoms, leaves, and stems. Today, I am going to press some blossoms and herbs into an old phone book. Now, all I have to do is wait for them to dry.

That may be the hardest part.

April Contrasts

(The doves were too quick for the camera)

The leaves are coming out on the ash trees. A dove chases another from branch to branch. Soon, there will be a nest. Meanwhile, a wasp lays her eggs under the eaves.

One day is windy, the next is calm.

Today, I am twenty. Tomorrow, one hundred and one.

The Crown of Thorns

Thistles

On this Good Friday, I offer the following blank verse in remembrance of Our Lord’s Passion:

The Crown of Thorns
By Lynn Miyake, OCDS
The two were slaves who happened to be near.
The soldiers made them weave the crown of thorns,
And as they twisted prickling vines, the thorns
Tore open fingers, palms, and fumbling thumbs.

The soldiers nodded, pointed then at Him.
The slaves, they placed the crown upon His head,
And vicious thorns, they pierced His sacred brow --
The Blood ran down upon their bleeding hands.

The Precious Blood, it mingled with the blood
Of slaves. Then Jesus caught their gaze and looked
At them with love, WITH LOVE, as if to say,
We now, at last, are altogether one.

Watson Lane

The pecan trees haven’t come into leaf yet. A few stubborn nuts from last year’s crop still cling to the branches. Every spring, the pecan trees are the last to show life. Yet, they have their own stark beauty with the alfalfa and mountains in the background.

I come this way on my way to Mass, and I always enjoy the view as I turn into Watson Lane.