Happy September!Another Labor Day Weekend and the crickets here at The Farmstead in Central Maine are singing about it. I snapped this photo on the day their chorus began (three weeks ago). As Grandma would say, “Only six more weeks ’til frost.” And that was three weeks ago.
Needless to say, nature inspired me to pen a poem for the occasion.
~ Bette A. Stevens, Maine author/illustrator
Spring has sprung and apple trees are shouting about it here at the farmstead in Central Maine. After a long winter’s nap their branches are bursting into bloom. With temperatures in the 70s and sunshine in full array (Oh, but rain predicted to be on its way…), this writer is shouting about it too. Inspired by another of nature’s wonders ~ Bette A. Stevens, Maine author illustrator
A few flitting monarch butterflies and my favorite fall asters will soon dissipate into grand memories awaiting reincarnation.
As we expect this dawn of change, shimmering monarchs are heading south to aggregate in the warmth of southern groves. Meanwhile, I’m settling in for the evening with wood stove ablaze—I think I hear autumn’s tendrils softly tapping at the door. I close my to dream of butterflies and dancing blooms.
Although summer is coming to an all-too-soon close here in Central Maine, fall is sure to welcome us anew with its shimmering colors too.
Blessings to you at the close of one grand season and the opening of another! ~ Bette A. Stevens
Lovely images for a February day! ~ Bette A. Stevens
FEBRUARY (Excerpt from “The Months”)
by Linda Pastan
After endless
hibernation
on the windowsill,
the orchid blooms—
embroidered purple stitches
up and down
a slender stem.
Outside, snow
melts midair
to rain.
Abbreviated month.
Every kind of weather.
***
Read “The Months” in its entirety at poetryfoundation.org. Originally published in Poetry (October 1999).
Dusting of snow in the Northeast today. Fire’s ablaze and I’m hibernating for the day… — Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com
Related articles
- Hibernation (slideshare.net)
The weather today
Is full of leaves
Crunching as
Feet walk through them
The ground covered
With wetness
The air filled with musty
All is cozy inside
Without seeing
Or recognizing
The signs of
Old man winter
Is sneaking upon us
The weatherman
Just posted a
Notice to me
Starting Monday
Night a chance of
Six inches plus
Of that white stuff
You know it is called
Snow
Get your shelves
Stocked on toilet paper
And milk, get diapers
And bread, for winter
Has decided whether
I like it or not
To pay me a visit
Wait, what is that?
You want me to come
Back and visit?
I’m sorry friends
I must go for my
Bed covers are
Calling to come
Hibernate until Spring.
Written by,
Terry Shepherd
11/10/2013
~Poem by Bette A. Stevens © January 1, 2013~
I collected word nuggets for The Ice Crystal Robe several years ago. Last week I shot the photograph for this post when one of our lilac trees was shimmering like a gemstone in winter’s early morning sunlight after a storm. ~Bette A. Stevens~
The Ice Crystal Robe
Royal Finery,
glistening diamond ropes
embellish bare arms.
Her ice crystal robe
disappears by mid-morning.
Lilac stands naked.
AWESOME!
Already autumn seasons us, with darts
of scarlet fallen leaves and crispy air.
The nights befall us earlier. It starts
to hint of winter brevity. Compare
the light at 6 PM to just three weeks
ago, and note the recent rain that made
adobe-colored gutter water, leaks
in old garages, rivulets of shade.
Already fall approaches. I should fix
the broken, reinforce the frail, replace
with prudence and prepare myself for six
months on the other side, but I’ve a pace
too skewed right now – intention aimed elsewhere,
exposed to elements of self-repair.
Come join us!
Bette A. Stevens, Maine Author 
Written
on 09/03/2016