Poet, Playwright, Workshop Facilitator
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Welcome to daily nature photo and creative writing blog, #NewThisDay

Welcome to my daily nature photo blog

Writing from My Photo Stream ~ Kelly DuMar


#NewThisDay Writing From My Photo Stream

Dragonfly on my walking stick in the meadow

Dragonfly on my walking stick in the meadow

“We are making photographs to understand  what our lives mean to us.”

– Ralph Hattersley

Another bright morning through the windows left open to sound and light. And Charlie’s early barking away wild animals in the woods before light. I wake long enough to worry for a moment or two and begin to feel irritated for Frank, up early, letting him out to bark crazy. Then I think: who cares? Let him bark and I am back to sleep for a summer Sunday morning. Awake for my poem. Now, I am liking it. And I spend some time tweaking it. As usual, the idea I thought about yesterday is a minor change, the shifting a a sentence fragment and here it is. Now it feels right. Now I feel more honest. More clear to myself; is it clear in the poem? We shall see Monday night. I read e-mail, including a Gail Mazur poem that begins with dragonflies published in “Poetry Sunday” blog, “The Bay” -

Dragonflies mating in the greeny shade
of the tamarisk, their brief lives unfettered.

Then I write my weekly Aim for Astonishing blog about a photo of my daughter when she and I walked in the Cottswolds one July in 2012; a favorite memory revived that I will write from this week. I go out into my meadow with the walking sticks as usual and notice the swarms of dragonflies. I set down my sticks so I can try and get a picture. Then three of them quickly land on my sticks! I am glad to know something about my sticks is attracting them - I have no idea what. It’s another very hot day. We go over the trestle bridge and through the wild grapevine portal under a sunbeam. My mood is summer eased and easy. My body is tired from swimming and gardening and walking so much. But I keep going. Summer is so short, July nearly over, I want every second of it enriched. In the yard I water what’s thirsty. My poor collapsed milkweed stem with three pods. I water it anyway. I have a number of plants, some hosta and rhododendron to plant in a very fussy mostly shady spot under a fabulous tree where the granite steps climb. Every year, I try new things. The deer made a meal of the rhododendrons last winter, they try to live through it. I overheat myself, but I finish. Later, I fall into a fabulous nap with the doors open to a breeze and awake refreshed to go and buy more plants! I come home and move rocks I’ve been meaning to move and wish Frank was here to help. I am determined to finish this challenging shaded area to my satisfaction. Tomorrow, new plants will go in and a new poem goes to workshop.

write from a photo with “heat”

Read my Aim for Astonishing weekly blog published today