Budding Blue, Blooming Blue

more quiet than dawn
faint ripples of lavender
summer’s sweet ending

 

silent explosion
splitting the green-starred darkness
a whiff of blue scent

 

Comments always are welcome.
A Texas native, the blue water lily (Nymphaea elegans) blooms in spring and summer. These were found at the Brazoria Wildlife Refuge on September 5.

49 thoughts on “Budding Blue, Blooming Blue

  1. Dawn for me crackles with bird song, and the sound of creatures both waking up and going to bed. Right now I can hear the sound of gulls through the windows of the crummy motel I am staying at, for just one more night. It is easy to be “more quiet than dawn”.

    1. One of the joys of early autumn mornings with open windows (soon, we hope) is listening to the waking birds. Just now, the cardinals are the earliest risers, but yesterday I heard the slight chitter of hummingbirds at first light. It’s just as well that the bluejays seem to enjoy sleeping late; once they’re up and about, there’s no more quiet!

    1. When I lived in Liberia, I had a ‘pet’ rooster that spent every night on a screened-in porch. He was a loud one, and kept waking up the surgeon next door at 4 in the morning. Eventually, a bargain was struck, and Mr. McBawck stopped waking anyone. I was twenty bucks richer, and, well…

    1. It’s one of the more common forms of haiku: three lines, with five/seven/five syllables. It’s fun to compose, and often pairs well with photos. It won’t be long until our water lilies begin to fade. I was glad to find these.

  2. Silence can be a relative thing. When one is used to the pre-dawn traffic noise of commuters or the yammering of morning television pundits or a rude rooster (RIP Mr. McBawck) – watching the sun rise over a salt marsh seems overwhelmingly quiet.

    Your outstanding photographs evoke strong emotions. Growth. Joy. Celebration. Success.

    If we had only the images in front of us, we would struggle to describe our feelings. If we were then shown your poetry, we would exhale and whisper: “Yes”.

    Thank you for sharing snippets from your Brazoria Blue Period!

    1. Haiku are funny things. I can go for weeks without penning one, and then, suddenly, there they are. It’s as though the images themselves elicit the words; it’s the best way I can account for how easily they sometimes come, or how well the images and words fit together.

      I must say, the second photo makes me smile every time I look at it. Duckweed rarely ‘stars’ in an image!

    1. I’ve come to really enjoy the water lilies, and when I manage to catch them early in the day, I think their delicate beauty shines even more. It’s been quite some time since I’ve written haiku (and even longer for etherees) but I have a sense of things stirring a bit. Maybe it’s autumn coming that’s stirring the juices!

    1. I actually thought of you when I took the photos of the bud. I remembered how well you like the lotus bud, and hoped this one would appeal to you. I’m glad it did. As I’ve said before, you’re always welcome to use a photo as a model for your own art.

    1. Sometimes, duckweed functions just like baby’s breath in a bouquet. It adds that little ‘something extra’ that doesn’t compete with the primary bloom(s), but fills up the space in a pleasing way.

    1. Thanks, Liz. The blue is more prominent when the flowers are opening; as the day goes on, they fade toward white, so I’m always pleased to find them in the early hours. There were some yellow buds on this day, too, but they were slow to open, and I decided to wander in other directions.

    1. You’re right, Yvonne. There are several wonderful places within a couple hours’ drive, and some even closer to home. In fact, I found a whole field of rain lilies right across the street from my place this morning. There were so many that their scent hung in the air until the wind began to come up. It’s been a couple of years since I’ve seen them there — apparently they got just the right amount of rain from our recent storm.

    1. When I think of ‘blue scent’ the first things that come to mind are lilacs and mountain laurel. I always laughed at people who described the aroma of mountain laurel as being like grape bubble gum, and then I smelled it. They were right.

  3. That’s odd. I thought I had commented and Wp thinks I did because there is no box for notification of other comments but I don’t see it.

    I think I said that as much as I love our Pink Water-lilies this is a contender for my favorite…if only we had them here. It’s a gorgeous flower. Your haikus are a perfect match for a quiet peaceful sit by a pond and very much remindful of my mornings with water-lilies and frogs here..although I get a scent of pink.

    1. Oh, WP. Every time I get irritated with them, I think about the complaints I hear from people using Blogger. There’s no perfect system.

      It’s really kind of fun that you have pink and I have blue. They’re both lovely. I do like the yellow, though. It amazes me that our blue, white, and yellow water lilies all are native; I certainly never thought of Texas as a water lily haven, even after I moved here. Like most people, it took me a while to move beyond ‘cedar’ trees and cacti.

      I wondered if actual water lilies have an actual scent. I found that Nymphaea odorata is the most fragrant, and the one most often used in perfumes.

      1. My refrain for the WP blues is that it is provided for free. Whether those who upgrade have the same problems I don’t know. I’ve found that the “Happiness Engineers” are not able to solve many problems. Most correct themselves. I spent a lot of chat time with one because many of my blog notifications of comments end up in my Comcast email spam folder. Only WP’s, and actual spam, show up there so I’d say it has something to do with their process. The “H E” said it was fixed but it goes on still. I just routinely review the folder.
        Texas has an amazing variety of habitats and, as you know, I am quite jealous of your extended flowering season compared to ours as well as the huge expanses of blooms you experience.

  4. How lovely, Linda, and two haikus for the price of one. I think my personal favorite is one that I wrote just a little over three years ago:

    Last night, in the dark,
    We heard, in the nearby woods,
    Coyotes singing

    It still haunts me.

    1. A coyote haiku! And a nice one, too. There’s nothing like the sound of them in the night. I’ll bet that’s one of the things you miss about your cabin. New Zealand’s surely a lovely place, but if I were you I’d be longing for that cabin, too — especially now that autumn’s coming on.

  5. Stunningly beautiful flowers and the words are perfectly chosen to go with them. Love the idea of ‘a whiff of blue scent’.

    1. Sometimes I talk to the flowers, and sometimes the flowers talk to me, Ann. That’s how most of my haikus come into being. I don’t really think much about them — I just sort of ponder, and then there the words are. It’s fanciful but fun to think that the flowers gave them to me!

    1. The water lilies are just exploding right now. I suppose it’s the combination of such warm temperatures and so much fresh water — perfect conditions for water lilies!

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