Out on a Limb

Sometimes nature literally throws a haiku at me during my morning walk. This happened today:

Last Sunday my husband and I learned that Christine passed away July 22 at the age of thirty. She is the second of our eight former foster children to die. Montoya’s life ended at the age of 31 on June 11, 2021. The mother of two of our other kids left this earth in 2007 at the age of 38. Their brother passed just a few years ago, in his early thirties. I am heartbroken.

There’s been a lot of construction traffic lately along the streets in my neighborhood. It’s noisy and sometimes dangerous.

July 2026 is turning out to be the strangest Independence Day celebration I’ve seen in my 71+ years on earth. My country seems turned upside-down and cattywampus. I’m worried but still have hope that the America I thought I knew will pull together to make it through these trying times and continue to strive to make our nation a better place: one that embodies the ideals of those who signed the Declaration of Independence.

After the Persimmon Tree literary journal picked up my short contribution to their summer forum, I reworked the piece into a longer essay and presented it last Thursday on the Cherokee County Arts Council stage in Murphy, NC. The event, Poetry, Prose, and Pie, is a series sponsored by Common Ground, a grassroots organization dedicated to peace, justice, and community building in Western North Carolina. Their efforts emphasize education, advocacy, and bridging divides within the local mountain communities. This is the third PPP event I’ve participated in, where local authors share their work around a theme. This time, the theme was “Found,” and here is my essay:

The hostas have fully recovered, three years after we fenced out the deer, who thought this garden was their personal candy store. Come dormant season, we'll do some transplanting to spread them out a bit. The astilbe plants in the lower terrace are recovering, too. They all love the shade under the oaks.

It’s nice to be back home after two weeks on the road. More about that later, but for now I’ll just share my homecoming haiku:

When I first looked outside this morning, I saw a red fox trucking along the edge of the yard, apparently wrapping up his nighttime hunting expedition. He paid me no mind, although I stood less than 20 feet from him. Any day that begins with wildlife is a good day. Here is the haiku I wrote about it:

Several of us in the Ridgeline Writers group received medals in the Literary Arts division yesterday at the Cherokee/Clay Senior Games Silver Arts awards ceremony. I won gold for a fiction story, and silver in the essay and life experiences categories.

Lies and Pies was a hit last night at the Peacock Performing Arts Center in Hayesville, North Carolina. I shared my "Seagulls with a Side of Fries" story, with a twist. What an honor to be asked to present a tale alongside a wonderful roster of storytellers and musicians!

I’m “a day late and a dollar short” with this announcement. Last fall I submitted my entry, Not a Ghost of a Chance, to the Gilmer Arts Literary Anthology (in a neighboring county in north Georgia). They didn’t notify me that it was accepted, so I assumed that it was not and I forgot all about it.

Seeing the Artemis II splashdown on TV last night felt like a breath of fresh air. Newscasters focused, for the first time in months (or maybe years), on something other than politics and war.

I am partial to North Carolina’s state flower, flowering dogwood (Cornus florida).

The white oak trees behind our home produced a bumper crop of acorns last fall. I didn’t think much about it, figuring that such plenty would result in a happy and healthy gray squirrel population. When the tree leaves dropped, our asparagus patch snuggled in for the winter.

Most mornings, I pour myself a cup of coffee and then check my email, the headlines, and Facebook to see who’s having a birthday today so I can send well-wishes. Much of that routine has become grim during the troubled times in which we live.

Yesterday marked the first day of spring. Today's morning walk inspired a haiku trio to start the season out right!

During a recent checkup, my dentist said, “You’ve got great teeth.”

It’s finally over!