Gallery

Mellow, butter, goldenrod, lemon, cream, canary, primary, and get my sunglasses, yellow

Less than sixty minutes remain of the winter solstice. I don’t celebrate Christmas or New Years. I’m among the group of people in which holidays hold nothing but bitter memories. As mid-summer passes into fall, I count down the days until December 21st of each year. I’m starved for the individual flavor each additional minute will bring to my evening table.

The solstice means I’ve made it through another year. I’ve survived the worst of my imagined and real terrors. Except for the weather, hopefully everything will continue on for another year. There was a time in my life when yellow was my favorite color. I couldn’t be miserable wearing yellow. My living quarters, even without southern windows looked sunnier with a touch of yellow on the walls.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I really don’t look good wearing yellow. Decorating with yellow looked dated past the 1970’s. As life moved on I shifted my love of yellow to flowers, admired golden sunsets on the prairies, and on rare days when I woke early, appreciated the butter soft glow of a misty sunrise.

Today I’ve taken time to break all the rules about photographic placement, color, form, and size. I’ve gone back into my vault and overhauled a few old favorites taken at a Pow Wow in Lac du Flambeau, Wisconsin several years ago. The yellow were everywhere. I stopped short of pulling out the yellow-green.  It was a close call, but I’ll save those for another day.

Feel free to let me know what you think of my solstice madness.Enjoy your own mid-winter, or mid-summer holidays, depending on which half of the planet you live on. Thank for stopping by. See you next year!

 

Weekly Photo Challenge:Yellow

 

Closing Up The Cabin

Closing up the cabin means dreaming of summer for nine agonizing months.

Perfection, my sweet oblivion to mortal miseries,

Consistently washed from my mind,

Crickets scrubbed my soul clean,

Tree frog and owl compositions layered upon inland lake melodies.

 

If risen moon, wax or wane, full or slice,

Lake surface reassured Luna

‘Yes, you are fairest of them all’.

I never heard fish leap through light on lake

But satisfied snaps against the surface confirmed,

One less moth bumping against the yellow porch light tomorrow.

 

An early fishing boat slowly making it’s way along the shoreline

Will no longer wake me with gentle alarm just before sunup.

Screen door, rusty spring hinge,

Squeals each time it’s opened

Smacks loudly in memory long after WD 40 can is empty.

 

Time will once again run on demand,

Not by who’s swimming where,

Softball tonight at the recreation center,

Volleyball on Tuesday and Thursday afternoon,

Bingo for Baptists on Friday nights at the Catholic Church downtown.

 

Friends halt along the shoreline and sit on piers,

Feet flipping water on relatives for the last time this year

Old Adirondack chairs filling quickly,

Hammocks sway, jealously guarded

Tree swings, one more push please?

Afar, latecomers clicking like rosary beads

Heading towards the altar of the lake front fire pit.

 

Offer thanks to the Milky Way and heavens above

While kids eat S’mores, weenies on a stick,

Parent’s off a bit, literally, with canned beer iced in a galvanized tub,

Latest tall, long fishing tales,

Best expectations for the Packers-Badgers football season

Argued between flatlanders and cheeseheads with setting sun flaming through tall trees.

 

Most of the boats are on trailers, or scheduled for pick up and storage.

Owning a cabin means turning off the water,

Draining the pipes,

Deep sigh as you drive up the road,

Squeeze an artery clogged

wheeze a bit as you blend into homebound traffic

and live a bit of forever in the past.