19 Thursday Feb 2026
Posted in Art, Reflections, Garden, Poetry, watercolor, Nature
First Mover by Joan Currie
When the weather is right–
not warm, not cold,
but something the earth understands–
a single iris
pushes through the soil.
No announcement.
Just the lifted stem, urgent with bloom,
certain of itself,
taking the light
as if it had been called.
Soon the hyacinths,
the daffodils, the crocuses,
will follow.
But for now
it stands alone-
and I wonder
about the others
still folded in darkness,
waiting for their hour.
21 Wednesday Jan 2026
Posted in Art, Drawing, Garden, Home, Nature, Painting, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor, Writing
Tags
beautiful, continuous drawing, Garden, garden cuttings, garden in winter, succulents, tending a garden, watercolor
Getting My Hands Dirty by Joan Currie
I dug my hands into the cold, moist
soil,
dark with iron-stained oak leaves,
geraniums collapsed into themselves,
the soft wreckage of mulch
returning to its first idea.
There were celandine and verdigris
succulents stained with bluish grey,
swollen with the calm confidence
of continuing.
They rose from cuttings
I gathered last season–
still busy, even now,
making life.
As I knelt there, I thought–
does the one who never tends a plant
miss this small astonishment,
this unannounced miracle,
or is it enough
to stand back,
hands clean,
and love the beauty
without knowing
how deeply it must be touched
to appear?
© Joan Currie – Succulents – continuous drawing
11 Friday Oct 2024
Posted in Animals, Garden, Mammals, Photography, Poetry, Reflections, Wild animals
The Rogue of My Yard by Joan Currie
In my garden once peaceful, in days of late,
A scoundrel returns – wrecking havoc, his trait.
Not the soft squirrel of a Potter tale,
But a beastly fiend with a bushy tail.
He clambers and clatters with ill-intent,
O’er apples rotting, their skins now rent.
Like billiard balls scattered across the green,
A trickster’s delight, a demon unseen.
With acorns stuffed in each nook and crack,
He piles his plunder no thought to slack.
The feeder he topples with impish glee,
Chasing away all the birds that flee.
A tyrant of trees, this devil’s dance,
He spares no corner, no happenstance.
The gutters rattle as apples roll,
From rooftop heights, his heartless goal.
O cursed creature, why dost thou stay?
To plague my yard both night and day?
Return to your woods, you menace black,
Please, or I fear, I might set a trap!
I’m afraid it is time to catch and release this squirrel to a woods far far away.
15 Thursday Aug 2024
Posted in Art, Flowers, Garden, Poetry, watercolor
A Rose Bush with Barbarous Thorns by Joan Currie
I tended a rose bush with loving care,
In hopes her beauty might my heart ensnare.
Her petals bloomed, a velvet blush of red,
But soon I found her charm, a thing to dread.
Her thorns, like daggers, pierced my seeking hand,
Each touch a wound no comfort could withstand.
The blood she drew ran crimson on the earth,
A wicked price for such a meager birth.
No scent she gave, no fragrant breath of grace,
A beauty hollow, lacking warm embrace.
Where other roses filled the air with song,
She stood in silence, sharp where she was strong.
And though a flower crowned her once, then fell,
She offered little more than this to tell.
A bloom or two, in early summer’s light,
Then naught but thorns to meet my hand in spite.
Oh roses sweet, that gentle hearts adore,
‘Tis not enough – one might yearn for more.
The fairest face is not the fairest soul-
Without the perfume, beauty is not whole.
I finally gave up on this difficult rose bush and replaced it with a tea rose that had the most alluring fragrance. I wish I had done it years ago!
01 Thursday Aug 2024
A Troublesome Trio by Joan Currie
In the oak beside my house, there lived three sprites,
Three mischievous squirrels, with morning delights.
At six they’d start, with a thump and a leap,
On my bedroom roof, disturbing my sleep.
They’d dig up my tulips, so eager and keen,
Gnaw at my porch, where they often were seen.
Cracked acorns scattered, my yard was their feast,
These furry intruders, to say the least.
I grumbled and muttered, “A nuisance, no doubt,
These bothersome squirrels I can do without.”
Yet, one fateful day, my neighbors took heed,
They chopped down the oak, the squirrels left – Godspeed!
No more early wakes, no more tulips dug,
No gnawing on wood, no playful bug.
But silence grew heavy, the mornings so still,
I found myself missing their antics and thrills.
Now I wonder, where did they roam?
These mischievous friends, onto other homes.
Though I complained and wished them away,
I long for their presence at the break of day.
Be careful for what you wish for! After the squirrels left, a groundhog moved into my backyard – a much bigger nuisance than the squirrels ever were.
24 Friday Feb 2023
Tags
Art, beautiful, Birds, Crabapples, John Heath-Stubbs, Nature, Poetry, Starling, watercolor
The starling is my darling, although
I don’t much approve of its
Habits. Proletarian bird,
Nesting in holes and corners, making a mess,
And sometimes dropping its eggs
Just any old where – on the front lawn, for instance.
It thinks it can sing too. In springtime
They are on every rooftop, or high bough,
Or telegraph pole, blithering away
Discords, with cliches picked up
From the other melodists…
From The Starling by John Heath-Stubbs
Despite the snap of cold weather, the starlings were out in full force today perched on the branches of crabapple trees – mostly hidden by the burgeoning pink blossoms. It seemed as if they were rehearsing a mixture of musical numbers and squeaky songs for a springtime premiere. They put a smile on my face!
27 Friday Jan 2023
Posted in Birds, Garden, Photography, Reflections, watercolor
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Bird Nests…
Tags
Birds’ Nests by John Clare
How fresh the air, the birds how busy now!
In every walk if I peep I find
Nests newly made or finished all and lined
With hair and thistledown, and in the bough
Of little hawthorn, huddled up in green,
The leaves still thickening as the springs gets age,
The pink’s, quite round and snug and closely laid,
And linnet’s of materials loose and rough;
And still hedge-sparrow, moping in the shade
Near the hedge-bottom, weaves of homely stuff,
Dead grass and mosses green, an hermitage,
For secrecy and shelter rightly made;
And beautiful it is to walk beside
The lands and hedges where their homes abide.
When doing my yard work today, I discovered two enchanting nests in the garden and hedge. I love that the very inner layers are filled with small down feathers and soft grasses, and, surprisingly, small pieces of cording that I recognize as coming from my clothesline!
16 Friday Aug 2013
Posted in Aging, Art, Design, Garden, Reflections
≈ Comments Off on A life worth living…
Tags
African White Iris © Joan Currie
When Summer, lingering half-forlorn,
On Autumn loves to lean,
And fields of slowly yellowing corn
Are girt by woods still green;
When hazel-nuts wax brown and plump,
And apples rosy-red,
And the owlet hoots from hollow stump,
And the dormouse makes its bed;
from Is Life Worth Living? – by Alfred Austin
This poem brought me back to the delicious summers of my childhood…
06 Thursday Jun 2013
Posted in Garden, Photography, Reflections, Relationships
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Warm Gestures…
Sun Balls – Craspedia globosa © Joan Currie
Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.
Mother Teresa
Thankful for the smiles from strangers today…
21 Friday Sep 2012
Posted in Garden, Photography, Reflections, Writing
≈ Comments Off on Autumn flowers…
Tags
© Joan Currie
Nothing is more fleeting than external form, which withers and alters like the flowers of the field
at the appearance of autumn.- Umberto Eco
I passed these lovely flowers on my walk today – even more beautiful now than when they were in full bloom.
Satin & Sand 