12 Thursday Mar 2026
Posted in Art, Flowers, Nature, Painting, watercolor
Tags
beautiful, Garden, magnolia, magnolia blossom, Nature, Poetry, watercolor
Magnolia Blossom by Joan Currie
You have bloomed first
in my back garden–
O sovereign of pale flame.
Your receptacle, a golden crown,
royal, resplendent;
your lavish velvet robes,
pallid yet proud, spread wide
and stained with magenta
all around you.
Astonishing us–
magnificent, insolent–
you parade your brief glory.
05 Thursday Mar 2026
White Horses by Eleanor Farjeon
Count the white horses you meet on the way,
Count the white horses, child day after day,
Keep a wish ready for wishing – if you
Wish on the ninth horse, your wish will come true.
I saw a white horse at the end of the lane,
I saw a white horse canter down by the shore,
I saw a white horse that was drawing a wain,
And one drinking out of a tough: that made four.
I saw a white horse gallop over the down,
I saw a white horse looking over a gate,
I saw a white horse on the way into town,
And one on the way coming back: that made eight.
But oh for the ninth one: where he tossed his mane,
And cantered and galloped and whinnied and swished
His silky white tail, I went looking in vain,
And the wish I had ready could never be wished.
Count the white horses you meet on the way,
Count the white horses, child, day after day,
Keep a wish read for wishing – if you
Wish on the ninth horse, your wish will come true.
26 Thursday Feb 2026
Posted in Art, beautiful, Flowers, Garden, Nature, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor
The First Iris by Joan Currie
You rose before the others
and seized the light entire.
Brazen in purple,
you flung your velvet wide
and drank the sun in reckless drafts
as though it had been poured
for you alone.
Such extravagance is brief.
Already the hem of your robe
thins into air;
already the proud throat slackens,
gold dimming in its beard.
You, who would not share the morning,
shall be first brought low–
first to stain the earth
with the wreckage of your splendor.
And they–
patient, indistinct–
will rise in measured turn
and keep their modest light
long after yours is spent.
19 Thursday Feb 2026
Posted in Art, Garden, Nature, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor
Tags
Beauty, Continuing line drawing, Garden, Iris, Poetry, Post a week poetry challenge, Tiffany, watercolor
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
22 Friday Nov 2024
Tags
Art, beautiful, Nature, Painting, Poetry, Thanksgiving, turkey, watercolor, Wild turkey
The Wild Turkey’s Vigil by Joan Currie
In the dappled light of the forest’s edge,
He struts, wary, along the bramble’s ledge.
His ruby throat, a beacon of flame,
Bobs and flickers, untamed, untamed.
Eyes wide with a primal, ancient fear,
Each rustle of leaves, each sound draws near.
A breeze, a shadow – he freezes, tense,
A sentinel poised by a fragile fence.
Down the road, domestic birds parade,
Fat and oblivious, in sun-spotted shade.
Their fates are sealed, their end well-known,
But his is a dance in the wild alone.
Will he endure the frost-kissed nights,
And coyotes’ teeth that gleam in moonlight?
Or will his feathers scatter, a fleeting trace,
Of a noble life in a ruthless place?
No table awaits his wary kind,
No cranberry sauce, no sage entwined.
Yet the woods hold stories cruel and raw,
Where survival bends to nature’s law.
I spied this wild turkey standing alone on my walk today. I have always seen him with his mate and worry that the coyotes may have taken her from him. I hope he can find a good hiding spot in the woods tonight!
Happy Thanksgiving Season! ❤️
05 Thursday Sep 2024
Posted in Birds, Nature, Painting, Poetry, watercolor
Tags
The Falcon’s Spiral by Joan Currie
Upon the highway’s winding course I sped,
When, far above, a falcon soared and spun,
In widening gyres, a dancer in the sun,
The sky its stage, the world beneath it fled,
Each sweep, each turn, with majesty it led,
The climbing spiral, silent, graceful run,
Riding the breeze till earth and sky were one,
And all my thoughts were to its freedom wed.
Not mine, the wings that cleave the golden air,
Yet in my breast, a strange desire grew-
To feel the lift, the warm caress, the rare
Delight of flight that to the heavens drew.
Not to escape, but for the joy to share
A moment’s lightness in the sunlit blue.
Perhaps the joys of my first roller coaster rides and waterskiing around the lake come the closest to the feeling of flight that I craved that day.
30 Friday Aug 2024
Posted in Art, Nature, Poetry, watercolor
Tags
fish, Koi, koi pond, Poetry, watercolor
A Rare Moment with a Koi by Joan Currie
Beneath the ancient willow’s shade,
Where waters rest in jade’s embrace,
A koi of gold, with fins that played,
Arose to meet me, face to face.
Its form, a marvel, vast and bright,
With scales like sunlit autumn leaves,
It pierced the tranquil morning light,
As though it swan through silvered sheaves.
It broke the glassy surface wide,
A monarch in its water’s reign,
And in its gaze, both deep and wide,
I felt it knew my heart’s refrain.
A moment passed, yet seemed a year,
As time itself did lose its hold,
The world around so still, so near,
Was bathed in hues of green and gold.
In that calm, we two did meet,
A silent bond, no words did need,
For in the koi’s serene retreat,
I found a peace, profound indeed.
I came upon a koi pond with the biggest fish I have ever seen. One, in particular, surfaced and stayed very close to where I sat. It seemed we connected in that short time together.
23 Friday Aug 2024
Tags
beautiful, Bird, California quail, Nature, Poetry, watercolor
A Farewell to Summer by Joan Currie
I sense the shift, the whispered chill,
The tender breath of autumn’s will.
Where once the summer’s golden beam,
Danced lightly in a wistful dream.
Now lingers faint upon the air,
A fading warmth, too brief, too rare.
The roses, once in bloom so fair,
Now bow their heads in quiet prayer.
Their petals fall like summer’s tears,
While winds begin to wake my fears.
The squirrel gnaws on apples bright,
Then leaves them, half-consumed, in flight.
The clothes, once crisp beneath the sun,
Hang limp, their drying days near done.
No longer do they flutter light,
But cling, as if a ghost at night.
I stand in stillness, heart grown sore,
For summer passed, and nothing more.
I did not seize the season’s cheer,
Nor dance beneath the skies so clear.
Now autumn comes, with somber grace,
To steal the warmth I can’t replace.
And yet, I brace for colder days,
Winter’s chill in a frost-bound haze.
I spotted a California quail while walking in the woods today – a last offering, perhaps, of the summer season.
07 Wednesday Aug 2024
Posted in Art, beautiful, Flowers, Nature, Painting, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor
Tags
The Bloom of Happiness by Joan Currie
In a small and quiet village, lived a woman kind and true,
She helped her friends and family, no matter what they’d do.
Her heart was filled with charity, her hands with gentle grace,
She asked for nothing in return, just a smile upon each face.
But fate, with cruel fingers, wove a twist within her life,
She fell into a sickness, her body racked with strife.
She tried to mend her weary self, with strength she couldn’t find,
And so she called for those she’d helped, with hope they’d be as kind.
Yet each one had their burdens, and other tasks to tend,
They turned away, their busy lives, no time to help a friend.
Alone she faced her suffering, with tears and silent pleas,
Her heart ached more than body, as she fell upon her knees.
One morning in her garden, beneath the sun’s embrace,
She saw a sight that took her breath, and brought light to her face.
A flower, bright and beautiful, bloomed from a plant so plain,
A gift from gentle nature, to soothe her deepest pain.
In petals soft and fragrant, she felt a tender care,
A message from the earth and sky, that someone still was there.
Nature’s touch had reached her, when human hearts had failed,
And in that bloom, she found the strength, her spirit once more sailed!
I hold the gifts from nature so very close to my heart, especially in times of need. Every so often, I feel they are my late mother’s way of caring for me – still.
Satin & Sand 