Zane Kathryne Schwaiger

My Desk with Little Hands

244 :: My Writing Desk with Little Hands

my desk with little hands
and rose petals
because I want to remember writing here
at Old Gousty
with a view of the woods
Mary Oliver by my side
and rose petals
from roses Grandmommy brought me
and brought me again.
candles for night writing
and an old photo of Maude Louise
(my childhood Airedale)
all of this waiting for me
after Wallace falls asleep
and rain is drumming on the roof
quietly luring me
to my desk
to write.

236 :: The Roses

240 :: Rose Petals

242 :: More Rose Petals

A Visitor in My Own Garden

221 :: More Nasturtiums

226 :: Arugula

when I picked this arugula
I had no idea
there were acorns involved,
stacks of dishes
and tomatoes.

it was unclear if the yellow ones were ripe.
were they a new variety?

I usually forget to label the plants
when I put them in the ground
and I have to return to my notebook
filled with notes on seed starting
mixed with lists
of tomato varieties
and basil in the same tray –
a few poems between the lines,
and smudged ink from tears

knowing I was planting the seeds
of tomatoes he would
never taste.

226 :: Long Day

226 :: Fuzz Head

Leftovers

170 :: Leftovers

I’m cleaning out a
cupboard of watercolors
and art supplies
and nature journals
and clay, and I am cleaning
but this is what I end up doing
instead:
laying out the bits and pieces
of a homeschool year
as a sort of still life
on the kitchen table,
and admiring all the little
reminders of a creative life
lived here
in the this home
filled with birdsong
and love.

Welcome Back to the Jungle

159 :: The "Lawn"

This is what the “lawn” looks like after six weeks away.

165 :: Garden Jungle

And the garden is a jungle. But at least there is kale growing in the jungle. And lots of garlic. Oh, and volunteer plants I would have weeded out weeks ago. How I love the volunteers. And so they get to stay. Nasturtiums in the garlic beds. Cosmos in the onions. Calendula everywhere. Hundreds of borage plants for the bees.

160 :: Chef

166 :: Minty

The garden is wild. The children have not brushed their hair in days. The puppy is happy.

162 :: Theo Boy

The chickens are settling back in.

161 :: Bird

And sometimes Amabel and I spend the morning collecting beautiful bits of plants and arranging them just so, creating this lovely, yet rather pointless assortment . . . instead of weeding, but . . . it’s lovely here, in the jungle, isn’t it?

165 :: Making Order