Category Archives: Floral

Just a thrift shop vase


I know it’s only January and April is still 3 months away but I’m already anxious for the Skagit Valley bulb fields to “spring forth”. I try to get up there at least once every year. I’ve already got a portfolio full of photos of daffodils and tulips but acres and acres of blooms are hard to resist. I usually bring some cut flowers home for my wife but before I gave her these, I ran them through my studio for awhile.

I sometimes prowl thrift shop aisles looking for studio props. Fortunately, I had just picked up this vase a couple of weeks before.

Hollyhocks and New Mexico Sun

WP DSC_9042 b


Old-fashioned flowers! I love them all:
The morning-glories on the wall,
The pansies in their patch of shade,
The violets, stolen from a glade,
The bleeding hearts and columbine,
Have long been garden friends of mine;
But memory every summer flocks
About a clump of hollyhocks.

The mother loved them years ago;
Beside the fence they used to grow,
And though the garden changed each year
And certain blooms would disappear
To give their places in the ground
To something new that mother found,
Some pretty bloom or rosebush rare—
The hollyhocks were always there.

It seems but yesterday to me
She led me down the yard to see
The first tall spires, with bloom aflame,
And taught me to pronounce their name.
And year by year I watched them grow,
The first flowers I had come to know.
And with the mother dear I’d yearn
To see the hollyhocks return.

The garden of my boyhood days
With hollyhocks was kept ablaze;
In all my recollections they
In friendly columns nod and sway;
And when to-day their blooms I see,
Always the mother smiles at me;
The mind’s bright chambers, life unlocks
Each summer with the hollyhocks.

—- taken from Just Folks by Edgar A Guest

(For today’s Blogging 101 exercise I have edited my recommended sites list and added 3 new ones. I’ve also started following 2 new blogs I found using Reader)

Weekly Photo Challenge: New


Determined petals
Pierce the snow,
Refusing to wait.
Shades of violet,
Red, then yellow;
Mocking folded crepe paper,
On white marble floors
Advancing to overtake the scene;
An insurgent force,
So lithe, so pure.

Conquering in swaths,
With delicate bravado,
As if  to challenge
The old mans icy grip,
While placating senses
Of the observant few;
Such a display
Of resistance,
To winter’s rule

Now, slowly waning;
As the moments nigh,
But will return once again,
To defy a February’s

—– Tommy Sheldon