Tuesday, March 20

A Memory of Joy

Spring Equinox Haiku

Drenched Camellia

Periwinkle Blue

Inside the Leaves

I remember standing before the blooming camellia bush at the front of our family home. I was very young and craved the taste of my thumb sometimes. I wore my favorite sundress, yellow with white nubby polka dots. I was watching a bee land on a drop of water which pooled in the center of the shiny, deep green of the camellia leaf. Where was its home? What did it see? I conjured a story about a tiny fairy that loved to ride the furry backs of bees, sprinkling magic and color wherever the bees landed.

It was a Spring Sunday, right after church and I could smell the roast cooking and the coffee brewing and the scent of vanilla. I recall feeling the urge to help my mother in the kitchen where the good smells and hungry family swirled. Instead, I sat in the shade of the nearby dusty oleanders feeling the itch of pollen, and after I settled, I barely opened one eye to see the small particles floating around me, clear, yellow, green. I felt a tiny black ant creep along my bare toes and remember feeling a sleepy panic as I stood up, brushing my dress clean of leaves and ants.

Below the bee's bush, lived periwinkle flowers each with a face of fresh beauty no matter how hot the sun or how strong the wind. A tiny colony of fairies were gathered on this Sunday to worship their fairy god, and their glossy wings sparkled in the sunshine. The blue periwinkles sheltered this fairy kingdom and they shared their space with orange nasturtiums. Some flowers were good to eat, I was told. The orange ones tasted green and sharp. I remember wondering if my brothers told me to eat them to make me look foolish as I spit them out. This day felt lazy and filled with breezes, smells, flowers, and fantasy.

Thursday, March 8