Tag Archives: gardening

The Book of Delights (Book Review)

The Book of Delights, essays by Ross Gay, is a “delightful” read. He is a bit of a rambler, as far as his writing style and sounds like he does quite a bit of happy ambling in other areas of his life, as well. He shares musings, observations, and anecdotes about the little things that bring him joy, like unexpected laughter, birthdays, gardening, and good music. Even his essay titles are a delight. “My Birthday, Kinda,” “Joy Is Such a Human Madness,” “Tomato on Board,” and “The Do-Over,” to name a few. I, myself, am a huge fan of the do-over in life. I share in that delight, unless I am the one winning the game and think the other person does not deserve a do-over.

I love his comparison between all that we are and all that we love and all that makes up our experience to a healthy forest where “the roots” reach down into “the earth below” and in that place “there exists a constant communication between those roots and mycelium, where often the ill or weak or stressed are supported by the strong and surplused.” In another essay he discusses his love of finding delightful things and then the immediate desire he has to share that delight with anyone nearby. This impulse to share seems to be universal, “the urge to elbow your neighbor, who maybe was not even your neighbor until the bird flew between you.” He suggests that this urge might be because “our delight grows as we share it.

An example of his beautifully descriptive writing is this about bees. “There is a kind of flowering bush, new to me, that I’ve been studying on my walks in Marfa. On that bush, whose blooms exude a curtain of syrupy fragrance, a beckoning of it, there are always a few thumb-size all-black bumblebees. Their wings appear, when the light hits them right, metallic blue-green. I have never seen anything so beautiful.” His delight and description of these beautiful black bees inspired me to make some AI art about black bees with iridescent other-worldly wings, an example of contagious delight spreading beyond the observation to the page to the reader to AI to many platforms where I post my art.

Whether it is recording sweet hellos, feeling the wind from a hummingbird wing, a cup of good coffee, or a nap in the rain, Mr. Gay delights in sharing his special moments with us, and for that, I am grateful. I should warn that nothing is off limits in Mr. Gay’s writing. Inappropriate dreams, aging private body parts, bowel movements, peeing his pants, etc., are all fodder for pondering and finding delight, even if the joy is simply in the crisis being over. I am inspired to begin jotting down moments in my day that bring me joy. I have begun journals of this very same type of writing many times. I think it is time again, thanks to being reminded how delightful our little lives are at times.

Gay, Ross. The Book of Delights, Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, 2022.

Erica Magic

(Poem 141 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

Selfie by Erica Smith

One minute she’s harvesting
seeds from dried flowers she
plucked from her own garden,
the next she’s trying on new
nails she got on sale from her
latest favorite glamour website.
She flits around handling
five children clamoring like
baby birds for her food and
her praise because nothing
is better than Erica approval.
Through it all she’s telling stories,
sharing the latest gossip, and
exclaiming such things as
I can’t,
ain’t nobody got time for that,
go lay down,
I got time today,
who are you talkin’ to,
not on my watch,
I can hear you, you know,
the call is coming from inside the house,
get somebody else to do it,
boy, bye,
they’re all broken.
And we laugh and cry and
sip tea and share our lives.

@Home Studio – 141st poem of the year

Balloon Garden

(Poem 62 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)

AI Generated image I prompted on Gencraft.com  https://gencraft.ai/p/DfUnKJ

There’s a pretty little garden
in a pretty little town
where a pretty little girl
puts balloon seeds in the ground.

She waits very patiently
sitting between the rows
and waters them one by one
waiting for them to grow.

When the bulbous little globes
begin to rise and swell
she sings to each and every one
in a voice clear as a bell.

Once they’ve reached maturity
the little girl waves her goodbyes
as she watches them float away
with tears in her eyes.

@Home Studio – 62nd poem of the year

Runner ups for the balloon garden photos to accompany my poem: