Poetry

And not related to the above poem (which I composed while hiking yesterday) but sort of...

I have no words today to explain how the mountains, rushing rivers, bare trees and sunsets give me life. Call to me and fill me to my very core. Seep into my bones and being. This is where I meet with God.

A slightly melancholy late summer poem. Words cannot fully express the ache that comes to my heart this time of year. Knowing this season of summer growth and beauty will end while fall's time of change and routine anxiously waits in the wings to begin.

Not enough time,
the month slips through my fingers
I try to grab it and hold tight before it's gone.

The succulent smell of the butterfly bush
wafts through the back windows and I fairly swoon
as I try to drink deep of all it's heady summer perfume.

The blighted tomatoes produce a few precious fruits,
I pick them gingerly and press my face close
to savor their unmistakable scent.
One whiff and I am once again a child
in my grandmother's garden.
The juice of a cherry tomato pops in my mouth
a warm, juicy summer tang.

Looking under those leaves
the second harvest of strawberries awaits.
The bright red blush of a late summer treat.

The sunflowers, oh the sunflowers
whose rust, yellow, orange, mahogany and peach faces
reach, turn and grow ever higher to the sun.

Behind it all the incessant insect zzzzz, zzzzzz.
And cricket love songs
the background symphony to my days and my lullaby at night.

We're gone this weekend. Camping on island off the coast of New Brunswick, Canada. Listening to whales, hiking for hours, sitting around the fire, a tent site overlooking the ocean.

Or at least this is what I imagine it will be like as I write this the night before we leave.

I spent the better part of the day in the kitchen and this is the gluten-free Strawberry Muesli I prepared for our first morning. It's versatile for camp or home which why I'm linking to it from here. I dehydrated most of the strawberries from earlier this week for camp/trail food. This works especially well if fruit is past perfect, ie: too mushy to be enjoyed fresh as some of these rain soaked strawberries were.

In between the food I was preparing the kids made strawberry popsicles to put in the freezer; in the anticipation that next week might actually feel like summer. You know sun and warm weather days that require shorts and t-shirts not rain jackets and sweaters.

We visited 5 Orange Potatoes for popsicle inspiration. Check it out, Lisa and her Little Ladies share some great ideas for holiday weekend and summertime fun.

Speaking of summer or the lack thereof, the kids and I wrote this haiku this week while running errands. Writing poetry while driving is quite fun.

Summer, where art thou?
Sun hiding behind the clouds
Rain, rain go away.

And that folks sums it up. Here's wishing you all a wonderful holiday weekend with popsicle weather. I'm hoping some of that will come our way camping. Being wet at home in the rain is one thing, being wet at camp is another (my husband would say it's an adventure).