seed pods

Autumn on Tiptoe

Posted by

Autumn is tiptoeing in
like a child peeking out from backstage,
wondering, Is it time yet?
Is it my turn?
She is halfway here, halfway hidden.
Most leaves are still on the trees,
still green, but tinted gold
as the billowy canopy thins
a drift of leaves here,
a handful tossed there,
skittering and scattering in the whispery breeze.
The Virginia creeper glows in the setting sun
like brilliant orange-red stained glass.
Seed heads in artsy shapes crown lanky stems—
mounds of prickles on coneflowers,
pagodas of basil,
drupes of berries gathering on the crape myrtle.
But the petunias are still happily blooming,
and the impatiens are being prettily patient.
The early-blooming clematis vine
had decided to bloom again
even as its spent blossoms long ago
turned to fuzzy-headed seed pods
fit for a page in a Dr. Seuss book.
Bright yellow marigolds sway like windflowers
atop thin, overlong stems.
They are always ready to replant themselves
from plump cupped, papery pods
brittle and bursting with seeds.
So hello, Autumn.
Welcome.
The stage is set, and it is indeed your turn,
so dance across, full and free.
And take your time before your final bow.
Make Winter wait.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

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

 

These are the Days

Posted by

These are the days
of searing sidewalks, sharp shadows,
and pop-up rainstorms
that leave the garden drooping,
dripping,
steaming.
These are the days of sweltering heat
tiptoeing timidly toward 100º,
days when I carry an insulated bag
filled with cold packs to cool off
as I wait for my grandson
in the mid-afternoon pick-up line at school.
These are the days when I wonder
how the birds cope,
why they don’t crumple to a crisp.
How do they sing so fresh and clear
in the heat of a breezeless afternoon?
These are the days when I remember
that the sun is a ball of fire
giving life to the earth
even though it’s on the edge of
boiling us for dinner.
These are also the days
when one leaf falls here,
another drifts down there,
autumn’s tiny ads for upcoming events.
One leaf on the crape myrtle turns orange,
standing out among the green,
seed pods ripen,
the Virginia creeper begins to blush.
But it’s not autumn yet,
not for a few weeks more.
With a hot, gusty sigh,
summer admits she’s dragging her feet,
dozy, droopy,
drained of energy
but not ready to relinquish her reign.
So I’ll keep the fans out
and the ice packs handy,
for these are the high, hot, heady days
of summer.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

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

Winter’s Brittle Beauty

Posted by

I am warm-weather at heart,
loving all things green and growing,
but when bare elms stretch
in latticework across the sky
and pine branches bow to a cold, fresh wind,
when clouds layer softly in shadowed grays,
and dried blooms and crisp leaves stand stiff as straw,
when marigold seed pods dangle on their stalks,
and basil seeds shelter on tiers of miniature pagodas,
when frost dusts shingles,
and smoke rises in lazy curls from a neighbor’s chimney
and the scent of wood smoke drifts through the air,
when a chilly in-breath fills my lungs and clears my head,
then I am grateful for Winter,
for her brittle beauty,
for Nature’s season of rest.
The world seems somehow simpler,
and I am simply grateful.
-kh-

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:


Shadow of the week:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

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