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.
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
14 Friday Feb 2025
Posted in Art, Birds, Gouache, Love, Painting, Poetry, Relationships, Valentine's Day
A Love Worth Waiting For... by Joan Currie
I once believed in fairy tales, in love so vast, so bright,
A love that soared on golden wings and lit the darkest night.
I dreamed of hands that knew my own, of hearts that beat the same,
Of whispered vows in starlit hush, of love that burned like flame.
Yet time wove shadows in my path, and love became a ghost,
A wistful wish, a fleeting dream, a ship without a coast.
I wandered through the quiet years, through echoes soft and thin,
Not knowing love was biding time, still waiting to begin.
And then—you came, like summer rain, like dawn upon the sea,
A love so deep, so fierce, so true, it woke the soul in me.
No fleeting spark, no passing storm, no whisper in the air,
But something strong as ancient oaks, as certain as a prayer.
The love of ballads, sonnets bright, the love that poets weave,
The love of kings and wayard knights, of hearts that won’t deceive.
A love where laughter, wild and free, is laced with tender sighs,
Where every glance is poetry, where longing never dies.
So here we stand, with hands entwined, where fate and dreams align,
A love reborn, a tale retold—forever yours and mine.
No more a wish, no more a ghost, no more a fleeting glance,
But love, at last, as it should be—our fated, timeless dance.
I have found love again! I am so grateful for each and every glorious moment we spend together!
Happy Valentines’s Day to all of you! ❤️
24 Tuesday Dec 2024
Posted in beautiful, Birds, Christmas, Daily Life, Painting, Poetry, Reflections, watercolor
Tags
Birds, Christmas, holdiay, New Year, Poetry, Turtle dove, watercolor
A Prayer for a Soft Landing
This year I soared through skies untamed,
Where heights were thrilling, dreams unchained.
The sunlit peaks, so bold, so near,
But shadows lingered – storms appeared.
The winds of change, they howled and roared,
And turbulence I so abhorred
Shook the wings I thought were strong,
Yet somehow, still, I flew along.
The high points glimmer, bright, profound,
Moments where my heart unbound.
I treasure these, their golden hue,
And honor trials I stumbled through.
For every bruise, a lesson learned,
Through fiery paths, resilience earned.
Not unscathed, but still I stand,
A voyager, with faith in hand.
Now as this year’s horizon fades,
I pray for softer serenades.
A gentle landing, calm and clear,
To close this wild, unsteady year.
And may the winds of what’s to come,
Bring brighter skies, a kinder sun.
For though I trembled, I endured –
A stronger soul, a heart assured.
Wishing you all the very best for the holidays and a wonderful 2025! ❤️
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! ❤️
25 Friday Oct 2024
Posted in Art, beautiful, Hallowe'en, Painting, Poetry, Pumpkin, Reflections
Hallowe’en Harvest by Joan Currie
On Hallowe’en, the earth bears gifts of gold,
Pumpkins swell, the squash begins to fold.
The harvest yields its bounty rich and bright,
And I give thanks beneath the autumn light.
But as I walk, the shadows start to creep,
And whisper secrets that the dark can keep.
For Samhain stirs, the Celtic year’s rebirth,
Where ghosts and goblins rise from out the earth.
My mind, so tethered to the harvest’s might,
Now feels the phantoms in the night.
The rational speaks of grain and seed,
But still, the restless spirits sow their greed.
A headless rider gallops through the gloom,
While witches weave their spells beneath the moon.
I walk between these worlds, both rich and strange –
The earth’s abundance, and the night’s wild change.
The harvest calls, yet something darker grows,
As from the underworld, the cold wind blows.
At this time of year, I feel an eerie presence swirling around me in the darkness on my walk home. As I did in my youth, I can’t help but pick up the pace and finally break into a run!
Happy Hallowe’en! 🧡
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.
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
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Finding Happiness in a Flower…
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 