Dreaming in Cherry Blossoms

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Rain patters on the roof,
While the cardinal calls:
“Birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie.”
My eyes drift closed, heavy
With disappointment at the cold,
Wet spring and the absent sun.

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Azaleas flame in raspberry bursts.
The weeping cherry cries amber tears
Of swollen pollen from pale pink blossoms,
Sunshine heats the wet sidewalk,
And it breathes steamy sighs.
A mist curls up toward the blossoms.

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In my dream, my two arms multiply,
Turning to wings, to feathers, to thin limbs:
To an infant, a new weeping cherry.
My long arms tremble in air currents.
The cardinal lands on my highest shoulder
Calling “Birdie, birdie,” red crest proud.

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I hear again the sound of the rain,
My dry roots yearn toward the nectar
Shared by clouds, whispering of oceans.
I awake stretching my legs,
Moving freely, but stiff and cold;
Blossoms, an afterimage, on my closed eyes.

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: Inspired by Michelle Marie, who was longing to see cherry blossoms.
These photographs are from last spring.

Spring is Sprung

The fairies have been busy.
Under the deepest snow,
They have sprinkled vernal equinox sparkles,
And everywhere spring is springing!

Irises Hear Spring's Song

Irises Hear Spring’s Song

Hyacinth Yearns Toward Sun

Hyacinths Yearn toward the Sun

Crocuses Stretch Upwards

Crocuses Create a Green Crescendo

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Visitor in the Temple Haībun

The February sunshine steeps your boughs
and tints the buds and swells the leaves within.
The groves were God’s first temples.

— William C. Bryant

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Daily on my walks, I see miracles of beauty, hidden places that driving would never reveal. The slower I walk, with more deliberation and care, with time to look around, the more my soul lifts with the beauty casually offered to my eyes. Some combinations of shrub and tree were created with careful selection, pruning, fertilizing and skill beyond mine. I am the worshipper, visiting briefly in temples built by others.

Even my own garden has treasures I received, simply by deciding to dwell here. Some irises were planted by a previous owner. I thought they would be purple, and each year I waited for them to bloom. Their leaves never embraced a flower stem except once, overshadowed as they had become by the vigorous forsythia planted too close. One fall, I pruned back the forsythia. That next spring, the forsythia did not bloom, but the iris did: delicate and pale pink, with a creamy white interior.

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the pink of my son’s rosy cheeks
bearded iris bloomed

My neighbor, Terry, came down the driveway, waving, and calling to me. She told me she was delighted to see Reed’s irises in bloom after so many years. She asked for one, and I freely gave it. She told me about the woman who had planted them. Reed had developed brain cancer and was gone in a few months. The neighbors had come together to make the family meals while she enjoyed her last days, looking out on her garden. One neighbor came to play harp for her in the evenings. Now her garden is my garden, and her irises are in my care.

Last year, I moved all those irises away from the forsythia and into the sun. My neighbor, Terry, came by again: her iris had not survived. I told her I would give her another one day, once they had recovered from transplanting. One spring soon, I hope to see that pale pink flower again. I will care for them here, in my outdoor temple. As I tend the memories of my own mother.

mourning in shade
thick green bud rises in the sun
time to bloom again

Added by request, an old iris painting of mine, purple like the ones I carried at my wedding:

Purple Iris Painting

Iris 1 Painting by Brenda Davis Harsham

Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham

Inspired by the Līgo Haībun Challenge Prompt: Temple.

Crankypot Halloween

Friendly Fairy Tales is pleased to offer a Halloween story for Adventurous Fairy Tale readers, Crankypot Halloween. Here is an excerpt:

Through the house give glimmering light,
By the dead and drowsy fire;
Every elf and fairy sprite
Hop as light as bird from brier;
And this ditty, after me,
Sing, and dance it, trippingly.
First rehearse your song by rote,
To each word a warbling note:
Hand in hand, with fairy grace,
Will we sing, and bless this place.

— William Shakespeare
(A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act V, Scene II)

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The gray-haired man sat tapping his fingers on his knee, without noticing tiny flickering lights under drooping dahlias, but he was aware of the darkening sky. He did not notice three raven nests in the tree across the street. A little girl followed the flickering lights, crying the whole way, closer and closer to where the man sat in the dark.

He heard her weeping by the gate, and shouted “Take your tricks elsewhere! No treats here!” He had been guarding his yard from the pitch-black of his porch for 25 years, not letting any trick-or-treaters through the gate, all lights off.

The crying got louder. “Go away, you can’t trick me!” He shouted again, unable to see anything with the sun sinking fast. He heard hiccups, then even louder wailing. He flipped the floodlights on, against his usual policy entirely. In the wash of yellow light, all the flickering twilight fairies hid, and the ravens called out, restless.

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He sighed and approached the gate for the first time in 25 years on Halloween. In the light from his floodlights, he saw a little girl with blonde curls stuck to her wet cheeks. Tears were rolling down from her eyes, and dangling on the strands of her hair like dew. The straps of her pink butterfly wings had slid off her shoulders, and she clutched a pillow case tightly in a fist. She looked just like his daughter, Ella Mae, all those years ago when he caught her sneaking out to trick-or-treat behind his back. He had yelled at Ella Mae, and now she lived on the opposite side of the country.

“What’s the matter, girl?” He asked gruffly.

 

 

To find out what happens, whether tricks or treats, please click on Crankpot Halloween.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Baby Coyote Scares Halloween

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Baby Coyote lived in a den with his mom and dad, deep in a wood surrounded by the roads and houses of big folk. Mom and Dad Coyote hunted at night. In the early morning, they woke Baby Coyote. They fed him, played with him and kept him safe. They usually slept away the long hours the big folk were walking the trails, but sometimes they would hide and watch them pass by. The big folk seemed to see nothing at all that was not on the trails. Baby Coyote thought they were funny, especially when they would exclaim over dragonflies or poison ivy.

One morning, his mom and dad had to go visit the faraway woods. On the sunshine oak next door, hidden in the nasturtiums behind a round door, lived a happy gnome. His name was Iron Hair, for his stiff, spiky gray hair. Continue reading →

Rainbow Haiku

Magic wings lightly
Paint the earth a bright rainbow,
Vivid joy dancing.

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Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: This post is dedicated to my friend, E, who walks with me most days, and is endlessly patient and encouraging of my taking pictures, and to my children who love to find things for me to photograph, too. And to my hubby, who stops the car when I just have to take a picture. Photography has become much more important to me that I could have imagined, and I owe that to the people I love, who bear with me. Hugs, Brenda

Sprite Spite

A new Adventurous Fairy Tale, named Sprite Spite, is now available to read. An excerpt follows:

Sprite Spite

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Wings swiftly beating, Amadou dodged saplings and swung wide around old soul trees, the wind pulling his curly, brown hair straight back. He felt the tree spirits slumbering in the cool midday, their leaves turning golden shades of autumn.

Amadou had been unfurling fiddlehead ferns all morning, and he needed to blow off steam. He was looking for a wide ledge of fungus, just the right height above the ferns. He could see it in his mind’s eye. That day, rain had created the perfect conditions. Diving sprites give a tremendous scream, arch their backs gracefully, wings folded. Then they take a running jump from the fungus ledge, falling through the thick, damp air, eventually bouncing from fern to fern and water slalom skiing in the dew on their tiny feet.

To continue reading, click on Sprite Spite.

Used with permission of acuriousgal

Used with permission of acuriousgal

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Some photographs used with kind permission of acuriousgal, a very talented photographer.

October Haiku

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Halloween’s coming:

Spooky sights, frights and delights,

Spiderweb and fog.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Late Bloom Haiku

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Hydrangeas bowing,
Blushing with autumn kisses;
Fallen leaf ignored.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Fae Cousins

Friendly Fairy Tales is proud to offer its newest Adventurous Fairy Tale, Fae Cousins.

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Photograph of Osaka used with permission of Mohamad Reza

Excerpt of
Fae Cousins

From a distance, cities like Osaka seem all concrete and steel, not a place for a fairy’s magic. Jade Lion Fairy knew the opposite was true. Urban Fairies are the busiest fairies, sprinkling their magic over long distances and up high heights. They look after patio flowers, green squares, Castle Gardens, parks, tightly confined trees and small children. If nature pushes through the concrete and flourishes, then a fairy enchants.

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Jade Lion rode the tide of heat from a vent all the way up to a balcony. A fairy in a glamour could appear as a shimmering heat wave or a large insect. She tucked her sparkling wings neatly on her back and sprinkled fairy dust from her bag on the tall purple orchids, which seemed to glow from within. Meanwhile, she also looked around for her necklace.

“Where did I lose it?” she wondered to herself. She thought back over where she had been. The last time she remembered taking it out of her dahlia-petal dress was when she showed it to that Tokyo sprite.

“Ouch! Hey, I’m Spit Spite Sprite – Just call me Spritester,” the small, blue-skinned sprite and she had collided under a Japanese maple tree by Osaka Bay. He danced on a salty breeze, laughing.

Click here to read the rest of Fae Cousins.

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

Note: First photograph published by Folliculostella and was taken by Mohamad Reza.

The Vegetable Fairy

Friendly Fairy Tales is happy to present a new Adventure Fairy Tale, the Vegetable Fairy. In honor of Labor Day, we are celebrating the hard work of gardeners and others who labor to grow the food we all enjoy. Happy Labor Day!!

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The Vegetable Fairy

Squash Blossom was a Vegetable Fairy, but she sprinkled her fairy dust on the vegetables resentfully, looking longingly at the flower beds blooming with petunias, coreopsis and dusty miller. She longed for the color and brightness.

The flower she liked best was the rose bush, it had such amazing flowers. She knew the flower fairies made tea with the rose hips, the green nub left after a rose bloom had faded. Squash Blossom loved tea.

“The flower fairies have the best jobs,” she thought to herself. She thought spending all her time in the flower beds would be the best job ever!

Click here to read the rest of the Vegetable Fairy

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham

This story is dedicated to all the gardeners growing food everywhere.

Circus of the Impossible at Friendly Fairy Tales!!

Woo-hoo! I’m Brenda, the Friendly Fairy Tales Ringmaster, here to welcome one and all to my Circus of the Impossible!

Impossible to believe I would win 65 awards in 6 months of blogging!

Impossible to imagine publishing 37 magical stories and even 6 fairy tale poems since February 25.

More impossibilities: over 10,000 hits, visits from nearly 80 countries, over 100 people visiting my site daily, nearly 650 followers, and who knows how many likes, over 3300 at last count. I have to sit down a minute, I’m overheating and my head is swelling. Oh wait, it’s just a bug bite.

Blogging has boggled my mind and made my life into a circus of unanswerable hundreds of emails. As I told another blogger, I’m so far behind, I’m learning to like the view from back here. I love it, but holy flying wombats, is it a circus!!

Don’t get me wrong, I love every minute of it, and I’m eating it up like cotton candy. If I could split myself in two, one of me would happily blog all day long, publishing stories, poems and photographs, and reading, answering comments and loving your blogs, too. Since I’m only one human with the same 24 hours other people get, and more obligations than hair on my head, I’ll just keep plugging away: tumbling, juggling, clowning, training animals (oops, I mean kids), walking the high wire and swinging from the trapeze.

Finally, I’ll be your award juggler! Toss ’em high, watch ’em spin, high they fly, win, win, win! Don’t light the torches, I’m not ready yet! Augh, my hair is on fire!! Thanks hubby, always a good man with a bucket of cold water.

Thanks to Sawa Minori for three new awards: The I Love Your Blog Award, The Liebster Award and Because You’re Fantabulous Award. Sawa makes the most divine angels, and she is such an angel herself, she tells me I have no rules to follow. In her honor, I’m now turning somersaults, rolling like a gymnast in flowered tights. Now there’s an image.

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Thanks to Patty at PetiteMagique, who gave me an array of awards, including handing me right back the awards I’d given her very deserving site. And she gave me two new ones I have not received before: The You are a Miracle Award (my own!!) and the Reader Appreciation Award. Oh, no, here come the kids with cream pies, run! Smack, too late! Whipped cream in my hair. (They don’t have to laugh like hyenas!)

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To show my appreciation to Patty for a bouquet of awards I’ve already received, I will use my new award acceptance token to acknowledge and appreciate them, but not display all the icons again, which feels like bragging:

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Thanks to Belsbror, one of my wonderful friends from the Phillipines, whose writing rings with passion and truth, for the Awesome Blossom and Because You’re Fantabulous Awards!! I’m balancing on the high wire, with an umbrella in one hand and goat in the other. (Don’t ask!)

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Just when I thought it was safe to press publish on this post, Belsbror gave me another award!!

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Holy diving dolphins, is that the knife-thrower? I’d better wrap this up! Here’s today’s short list. Nominees, you can pick any two awards/tokens above you desire, or none if that is your preference. Feel free to take the Symphony of Color Icon, and use it like an award, it saves me time. And time is precious! Consider these nominations a hug from me (you have all made me contemplate your wonderfulness recently (is that a word? It should be)):

gita4elamats                JayNine                           toniandrukaitis

jnaima12                      stockresearch52           Schelley – What Is It?!?

Thanks for joining me, one and all, at my Circus of the Impossible. I hope many wonderful impossibilities come your way, too (except for the knife-thrower)! Here are a few more glimpses of my world and beautiful flowers to show my appreciation for all you wonderful readers, bloggers, friends, and family:

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With warmest appreciation, Brenda

Toe Note: Yes, those are my toes, and I included them as a tribute to Toemail, who rocks!

Copyright 2013 Brenda Davis Harsham