Storm-Glow

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

This evening radiates storm-glow
from the sunset bouncing off
orange-pink thunderheads
and filtering through the dusky air
like fairy-tale gold dust
lightening leaves, brightening blooms,
making the garden blush every hue
from yellow-orange marigolds
to red-orange nasturtium
to soft, subtle pink-orange coral bells.
Awash in this orange-veiled light,
a contented chorus of cicadas
plays an exuberant hum-buzz of evensong.
Even as they zing and sing
and celebrate this brilliant evening,
daylight subsides,
orange fades into a pale dusky pink.
Trees darken
as the fire of the sky
sinks over the horizon
taking the blush of the world with it,
leaving behind shade and shadow.
But now the neighbors’ windows
glow orange from the inside
as if, in passing, the storm-glow smiled on us
and lit windows all around
to carry our day-warmed hearts
into a welcome-home rest
while the looming clouds
turn into rain.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Look What I Found!

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Yook! Yook! Yook!”
my three-year-old neighbor called
to her mother,
“Yook! I foun’ a yaybug!”
I smile at her discovery
as I weed my front garden.
I’m discovering the names
of the prolific vines that climb
and twine around iris stems,
overrun dried daffodil leaves,
make their beds among soon-to-bloom daylilies—
Virginia creeper, Carolina snailseed,
Black Medick, ground ivy,
Greenbrier, stick-tights,
and wild grape vines with curly tendrils.
Profuse, persistent, possessive,
vines would claim the entire garden
if I let them,
but I’m making way for daylilies,
surprise lilies,
allium and gladiolas.
So I trim back the vines.
Some pull straight out
in long strands.
Some I have to clip,
tugging thin stems taut until I find
the earth-end and then snip them.
Some have twined themselves
around the stem of an iris or a lily
or a curled canna leaf trying to unfurl.
These I carefully and gently unwind.
But I don’t touch the clematis vine
veiling one end of the garden,
for it’s Nature’s bridal bouquet,
soon to bloom in a sweep of small white flowers.
Sultry sunbeams pierce through rain-heavy clouds.
The day sweats and so do I.
Clip.
Tug.
Untwine.
The first white clover appears
under the cannas.
And look! Look!
I, too, found
a ladybug!
Although now,
I think I shall forevermore
call her a
yaybug.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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From the Scent of an Iris

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I sniffed an iris today,
one of those big, bearded ones,
gold with a splash of red wine.
At my mailbox, I bent down,
touched my nose to
cool,
curved,
smooth,
silky petals,
and inhaled its heart-scent.
I knew what it held,
what it always holds—
my childhood,
at least part of it.
The fragrance sent me time-traveling
back to a long ago garden,
a wide triangle edged in gray cinder block
in a West Texas back yard.
The whole flower bed was filled
with irises,
the deep purple bearded kind,
filling the air with perfume.
The rushing wind,
always in a hurry to get somewhere,
made the irises dance.
And when the wind brought rain,
the drops drummed wild music
on the corrugated fiberglass porch roof
that covered the concrete patio where,
on sunnier days,
I sometimes twirled
in my sky blue parachute dress,
which I named for the way
the full skirt swirled when I twirled.
As I turn back to my mailbox,
I am awed and grateful
that this one iris
so gently holds me in its
cool,
curved,
smooth,
silky petals.
My memories are cradled
in the scent
of an iris.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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Text and photos © Karyn Henley 2025. All rights reserved.

A Gift of Poppies

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A friend shared her garden with me

in a baggie of poppy seeds,

tiny black things

that could be mistaken

for a swarm of gnats.

I had my doubts that they would grow,

for I am a haphazard gardener.

But I do love the look of delicate,

showy, confident poppies,

so I planted the seeds.

Those tiny black dots sprouted and stretched

into tall, slender stalks

that birthed frilly-edged blooms of

rosy pink with inner brush-strokes of lavender

around a globe-shaped center,

a tiny pumpkin-like pod of yellow and green.

I wish poppies would bloom all summer,

but petals faded,

fluttered,

fell from their centers,

those small, round globes,

each now regally topped with a tiny crown.

Then something astonishing happened.

As the globes browned,

under their crowns,

tiny holes appeared

like observation windows for gnats—

or, as it happens,

escape hatches for seeds.

Stems dry, weaken,

bend in the wind.

Out fall the seeds and scatter on the ground.

My grandson said, “Pretty soon poppies

will cover your whole yard,

because you get more and more each season.”

And I nod,

for that is how gracious a garden is,

how generous.

One plant multiplies its beautiful, bountiful self

in tiny seed-promises,

packets of hope for the year to come.

And if I pluck the seed pods

before they spill,

I can shake seeds out of their windows

and into a baggie

to share with a friend

these tiny black things

that could be mistaken

for a swarm of gnats

but are really a gift of beauty

and bounty

and hope

and grace.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the week:

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A Gardener’s Optical Illusion

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

A trick of morning light,

a slant of glass in a windowpane,

and I see a bevy of black-eyed Susans

where there are none.

The real golden, black-eyed blooms

bob on long stems to the south of my back door.

Their reflection sprawls across

the window-framed view to the west,

which happens to be the neighbor’s garage

and has never sprouted flowers.

Yet there it is

from my vantage point indoors,

an optical illusion,

a mirage,

a golden, pop-up garden,

a gift of sun and glass.

I wonder if a good memory is like that,

a reality, once tangible,

reflecting now from a window of the soul

so that, for a moment,

the mind’s eye sees a golden scene,

hears it,

smells it,

tastes it,

feels it

and knows it as a gift,

knows that this reflection is

no trick,

no mirage,

but is imprinted forever

on the pane of the heart.

-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week—my golden garden and its reflection:

Shadow of the week:

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Garden Gossips

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

Four black-eyed Susans,

crones of the planter box,

have lost their golden petals.

Their dark brown seed heads

sit atop tall stalks,

surveying shorter blooms—

pink coneflowers,

sun bright coreopsis,

fluttery white windflowers.

The black-eyes lean toward each other

nodding in the breeze,

garden gossips

sharing the season’s secrets.

Shhh! Shhh!

Peace.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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In the Back Yard Under the Pines

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

I rarely share my thoughts here, because so many have said them before, much more clearly and beautifully. But here’s one I put to paper yesterday.

I meant to put on sunscreen,

insect repellent,

maybe even a floppy hat—

Isn’t that how you dress

for a garden that needs weeding?

Instead, I went out to take a picture

of a rose,

the first of the season.

Then the mahonia beckoned,

its berries hanging in grape-like clusters,

blue, powdered with white,

another photo op

in the back yard under the pines

in the garden that needed weeding.

I’ll just test the weeds, I thought,

see if recent rains have softened the soil,

find out if they pull easily.

Up came a mat of chickweed,

a clump of wild violets,

tendrils of ivy,

all overstretching their bounds.

And so it went,

tugging and tossing,

freeing the spent daffodils

from one clump of weeds,

then another

and another.

There on my knees,

fingers digging through pine straw,

I breathe the rich smell of dirt,

the fresh scent of leaves.

A surprised millipede skitters past,

disturbed earthworms tunnel deeper.

Chickadees sing their name,

Wrens chirr,

a woodpecker tap-tap-taps overhead.

Wind brushes the pines and elms,

ebbing and flowing like the ocean,

a sea of air

swishing,

sighing,

whispering peace—

peace with the rhythms of nature,

peace with the seasons of life and death

in the garden now in late spring bloom

after dying back for winter.

Whispering, too, of my own seasons,

of my own dying to come

some day.

Even though I hear the whisper,

even though I might prepare,

that day will surprise me.

Oh—

I meant to put on sunscreen,

insect repellent,

a floppy hat—

Isn’t that how you dress for a garden?

–KH

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Like Smoke Across the Sky

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“In the cloud-gray mornings

I heard the herons flying;

And when I came into my garden,

My silken outer-garment

Trailed over withered leaves.

A dry leaf crumbles at a touch,

But I have seen many Autumns

With herons blowing like smoke

Across the sky.”

– Amy Lowell, “Hoar Frost” –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week – our first snow of the season:

Shadow of the Week:

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Singing in the Trees

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Joy, with pinions light, roves round

The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.”

– William Blake, “To Autumn” –

Look for joy. Nurture peace. Cultivate kindness. Carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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The Wings of Spring

Posted by karynhenleyauthor

“Birds in the green of my garden,

Blackbirds and throstle and wren,

Wet your dear wings in the tears that are Spring’s

And so to your singing again!”

– E. Nesbit, “May Song” –

Nesbit’s poem reminds me of a quote from Victor Hugo: “Be like a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing that she has wings.”

Nurture peace. Cultivate kindness. Carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week – a vase of peonies that a neighbor left for me on my porch:

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