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.
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! ❤️
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.
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…
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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.
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.
07 Friday Jun 2024
Posted in Art, Birds, Needlepoint, Poetry, Reflections, Winter
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Mallard Ducks…
Tags
Art, beautiful, mallard ducks, Nature, Needlepoint, Poetry, stained glass, textile art, Writing
Emerald Hues by Joan Currie
In days of yore, in times Victorian fair,
By the pond’s edge, with crisp, clear air,
We children gathered, hearts aglow,
To feed the mallards crumbs in tow.
Their emerald heads, with sheen so bright,
Glistened like jewels in morning light.
Majestic creatures, in green adorned,
A sight to cherish, a scene to mourn.
In summer’s warmth, they swam with grace,
Dancing on water, a joyous embrace.
Their quacks, a chorus, a playful cheer,
Echoed sweetly, ringing near.
But winter came with chilly nights,
A frozen pond, no duck took flight.
The waters stilled, the mallards caught.
In nature’s grasp, their freedom sought.
We’d rush to save them, break the ice,
With tender hands, a sacrifice.
To free their wings to let them fly,
Underneath the frigid sky.
Those emerald heads, with memories tied,
To days of laughter, when time would bide.
Still call to mind a youth so grand,
With mallard ducks, and crumb-filled hand.
I remember a kindly police officer who helped us children free the mallard ducks stuck in the frozen water of the neighborhood pond. It was amazing that the ducks survived!
30 Thursday May 2024
Posted in Animals, Art, beautiful, Mammals, Needlepoint, Painting, Poetry, watercolor, Wild animals
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Jaguar…
Tags
Animals, jaguar, jaguars, Nature, Needlepoint, Poetry, watercolor, Wild animals, wild-cats, wildlife
A Jaguar Sighting by Joan Currie
There, in the twilight’s gentle hold,
A vision rare, a sight untold,
A jaguar sprang from leafy shade,
Its presence fierce, my steps delayed.
With eyes of blue, like summer skies,
It met my gaze with wild surprise,
A flash of light in twilight’s gloom,
A piercing fire, a sapphire bloom.
Upon its coat, the rosettes danced,
With markings clear, my heart entranced,
Not leopard’s spots, but nature’s art,
The jaguar’s strength and mystic heart.
It moved with grace, a specter bright,
Through verdant halls of fading light,
In silent awe, I stood alone,
To witness what the wild had shown.
When I was very young, my knowledge of animals: mammals, birds, fish, reptiles, and amphibians, was limited to identifying them in picture books – mostly associating the name of the creature with the first letter of its name, e.g. “J for Jaguar.” Although I studied them in biology class and watched a number of National Geographic and Nature documentaries over the years, my keen interest in animals came to me only recently. I am completely besotted with them now!
18 Thursday Apr 2024
Posted in Photography
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Daffodils…
Hidden From View by Joan Currie
In fields of gold where daffodils dance,
Their beauty shines in a fleeting glance.
But beneath the soil, where roots entwine,
Lurks a truth that’s less than divine.
For hidden from view, in the earth’s embrace,
Lie roots that tell of a different fate.
Though petals gleam in the sun’s warm light.
The roots betray a darker sight.
So too, do some, in the world’s gaze,
Appear as beauty in myriad ways.
But beneath the surface, unseen to most,
Lies a truth that’s harder to boast.
This morning, I noticed that the squirrels had uprooted my daffodil plants. As I gently pressed them back into the soil, I was struck by the contrast between the lovely, sunny blooms on top and the fine, twisted roots emerging from the bulb at the bottom.
I thought about how some people, too, present themselves as the picture of perfect beauty and loveliness but deep inside may lie a darker story – be it of heartache, grief, illness, or even a darkness of the soul.
Satin & Sand 