Falling in place.

Black ball maters turn half red when they’re ripe.

Not quite the season’s last ones, but getting close.

Keeping the path clear, through the hay field,
past the garden shed, to the compost.
Can be seen from space.


Mowing standard: grass no more than one snake deep.


Sterilized old chimney rocks built around the culvert
over the north branch of the branch,
forty years ago, all grown in.

Chocolate veined ferns.

The warning, the promise,

it’s starting to fall fast.

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Leaves not grass.

Stem-fed stem-feeding factories alive in the air
pull energy from the sun
pull water and minerals from the earth

to build themselves

and roots and flowers and fruit.

An exquisite geometry

grooms every petal and vein

fans up in three dimensions

while competing in four

with every neighbor

for airspace and sunlight.

They employ strategies

of shape and color and texture,

delicacy or density,

to finish cycles of a minute or a day or a year
as they thrive
to amaze and delight human eyes.

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Walking the perimeter.

In summer, everyday, all around the house,

in pots, in beds,

on bushes, climbing trellises,

color explodes.

Full sun,

part shade,

all shade,

the white and yellow

and orange blooms


grab human eyes

and pull in pollinators.

Deep red

and rose

and lavender

explode

then slowly fade.

Pale blue

soft lavender,

down,

darker, to deep violet.

No blessing comes to us
as charmed
as a partner who brings forth flowers.

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Shared fruits.

Creatures great and small

tracked the chilies

and cherry tomatoes;
they gnawed the beets and potatoes

and destroyed the sunflowers

before the first bloom.

We lost most of the blueberries, probably 50 quarts, to three avian cartels:
the blue-jay gang, the catbird mob, and the brown-thrasher syndicate.

Some fresh magic comes up free to compensate,
a mushroom with the face of a planet that’s not one of ours,

or a globe of bubble glass.
It’s all still good under the moon.

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From the hot room, in the conservatory of the Biltmore House.

A ring of endless light,

by a yellow thrust shot through with white expostulations,


just across from pendulant nightmare pods

beside a slimy shiny scary hungry thing,

as I look down into the honey trap,
my reflection looks up at lunch


Oh, pretty flowers,

pure sex, no shame.

Delighting dappled things

and purple


 and tan (!)


and deep dappled blue,


plus a pinky purple


over the aisle from red velvet
more thrusters, down and all around sideward


white petals with flower tips bringing on


nightmare again, tumescent reds
converging yellow fronds.


Purple reign looks nice.

It’s time to find the shuttle bus
to parking area C3
unless we stay to find out what happens here in the dark
under an eclipsing moon.

 

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Chance encounters.

Swollen by recent rain
the creek is animal restless
but seldom gets out of bed;
planted hard, but on its way
to pushing Mississippi mud
through the Gulf of Mexico.

Hard to know what he might be looking out for;

not me, evidently, not in any way that matters.

Trying out a new browser
whose eyes look out straight

even eating birdseed from the ground.

She guesses she’ll slip into the trees now
if I’m so persistently inquisitive.

Maybe a little bigger than a fist

probably the one getting through the fence
to eat the beets.

At the bottom of the lawn
we watched the sharp shinned hawk
lunching upon,
as it turned out, a blue jay.

Funny fruit.

 

 

 

 

Just two days left. Of course you can purchase the books any time,
but the world-wide free-for-all price special ends Monday midnight,
10 July 2017, 12:00 pm AST (amazon standard time),
a potential savings of hundreds of pennies.

Why resist?

 

 

 

With all the rain,

mushrooms large and not very large

rise from the roots below,

pink and yellow,

white

and red,

and shy,


while well above the ground the butterfly bush flowers
are at full bloom
but it’s a year of hardly any butterflies.

And fallen to the ground, here and there,
reminders that the green season
is not forever

that winter, as ever, plays with us.

 

 

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July mystery giveaway.

 MYSTERY E-BOOKS FREE!

walk softly, but bring your long shadow

from the Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery series

July 6th, 7th, 8th, 9th, 10th of 2017, Thursday through Monday

free from Amazon.com (links below the cover pictures)
available only in Kindle format
All Amazon stores, worldwide:
US, Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Italy,
Netherlands, India, Australia, Japan, Mexico, Brazil.
People everywhere like free stuff.
Give either or both of these titles a try; let me know what you think.
Comment here, or email me at mystery@budcrawford.com.

A few clips from readers,
carefully culled from
favorable reviews on Amazon.

    Fit to Curve is a skillfully written mystery with complex characters and such a fascinating plot that I’m way behind on my chores.

    This series is a favorite with interesting plots and wonderfully drawn characters. Wish the author would write more of them. The type of book you don’t want to end.

    A bed-and-breakfast mystery. Super characters, well developed. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. A mouth-watering, good read. Love the old lady with the sharp wit. I’d like the recipes, too.  The plot builds very slowly. But once I got into it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, and you get a lot of insight into them.

    This is too fine a novel to be mired in the mystery/suspense ghetto. It’s a good mystery, with a complex plot, all the mystery trappings, but the characters are rounded and attractive. The theme seems to me to be a consideration of morality – not just sexual morality (or immorality), though there’s some of that too, for those who like to read such descriptions, but all kinds of morality: for how high a price might you sell your soul?

    I think the characters, subtleties, and philosophy make it much more than “just a mystery” or “just a novel”, though the mystery is fine for people who only want that, and the characters and their individual voices or patterns of thought are most thoroughly entwined with with the mysteries, necessary to the story.

    Heart Attack is a great read!

    This couple are a great addition to the mystery genre. Sharp and interesting with a bit of humor and spice.

    Snappy dialog. Geoff and Ellen are a great team. He has a definite intuitive method of assessing info and arriving at conclusions that baffle and irk his cohorts. Ellen is more conventional and together are a great team. Unusual mystery not easily solved.

COMING SOON:


Charleston Story: seeking agent.

Atlanta story: final edit.

 

 

 

 

Drosselmeyer Chronicles (finished, first draft). Roanoke story.
Just Rewards (current work in progress). Ocean story.

Good night, Gracie.

.

 

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Unstoppable summertide.

Every day, not just new blooms appear,

but entirely new types of blooms:

some delicate,

some little,

some huge,

some that present

in several varieties,

 some stunning and strange,

some almost violent,

some quiet in the grass,

some pinned against the screen,

a polyphemus night caller.

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Recidivist.

His look a lite a-side, in swich manere,
Ascaunces, `What! May I not stonden here?’

I eat every day,

you know that, right?

Just like you

and all your big-finger buddies inside.

Such delectable fare it is
despite the troubling presentation,
cutsey little houses, really?

my apologies for robbing Geoffrey Chaucer

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Extravagance.

Early summer’s chromatic abundance,


is everywhere,

in wild exuberance;

somewhere there’s a bleak

landscape of grays and browns

that all the bright colors have been

sucked away from and sent here;

all the shades, all the strategies,

to reach towards the sun

luxuriant unfurling

of flower DNA into petals

presenting their organs of generation
to all pollinators,

 come up and see me, right now.

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Flora near, mostly not native.

In porch pots,

invested down the lawn,

ending it,

just now firing up,

splayed on the trellis,


open all the way,

the same and every day new.

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Lone ranger.

Might be a possum with superior climbing skills,
who’s wearing a mask.

More likely one of the racoons,

we’re up to four at least,

cleaning out the bird feeders

with impressive industry

and thoroughness,

sharing uninvited from our several dangling attractive nuisances.

When sufficiently frightened, no easy thing,
they dive under the house for safety,
looking resentfully back over their shoulders.

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Chlorophyll abetting breath.

Not always green,

or not only green,

unfurling from the core,

despiralating,

as if their coils of DNA had been compressed, then let go.

A few of Earth’s three trillion trees, under white clouds,
mostly voting green

— more trees here than stars in the galaxy
as recently reckoned —

while the green then gray berries
fatten into blue
and we and a thousand wild birds wait together
poised to strike.

 

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Full bloom along every wall.

A quick circuit of the house
all the ripeness newly sprung,

no special effort required,

lean in and click.

Some are done and disassembling,

some at perfect fullness,

theme and variations,

every foot,

all the way around

 but wait,

each one perfection of its kind,

from bud to bloom


yet each lovelier than the last.


Soul washed, and eyes washed,
in the rising gyer of another circuit.

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Trees waking.

Tapestry yarn and embroidery floss
come in 500 shades —
200 of them are greens.

This is the time of year when you know why.

They’re lighter yellower now,
settling in summer to darker bluer tones.

Except for a few with a different plan

Downhill towards the weeping cherry

not growing up like most trees

but ever wider

making a tree house on the ground.


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Groundlings.

Best not step anywhere —
whatever new life you didn’t crush
just means you’ve crushed another
— so dense our biosphere
in the temperate rain forest of Appalachia.

New flowers push up
from the forest floor


from the composting transmutation
of leaves and branches not dead exactly.

A few (money) plants set at the top edge
spill wider and deeper every year,

compounding, while feeding and sharing sex with butterflies.

Thousands of them are marching now,
the apples of May,

but these were the first.

A predictable perpetual surprise.

 

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Human intrusions rise and settle in.

The new leaves and the understory have not yet
closed the view  of the old shacks down the hill.

The herbs and flowers wake up
to a new arbor and a gate,

so new nothing’s climbed it yet.

The pattern can be seen from space,
or at least from Google maps,

cut through the hay; the loop around the shed,
the three branches — to the road, to the compost, to the barn.

Walk softly on the poaceae-glyph,
(poaceae, the family of grasses),

but bring your long shadow.

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Rocks and a hard place.

They still seem to me to be jewel rocks,
all the forms of quartz,
perched here and there, watching what we do.

Quartz can enclose emeralds and sapphires,
unless they’re crystal and you can see they don’t.

.
Posed wherever they are pleased to,
milky white and rose and clear and tawny brown,
quartz is a family of precious, semi-precious, and mundane,
amethyst, chalcedony, agate, citrine, tourmaline, beryl.

Clutched by roots, bedded in the road,
or in the branch, simply there,
inhabited by life forms, some that share their surfaces,
some that invade and digest them at the old pace of gaciers.

The ants, both black and red,
which probably will bring trouble,
are building a metropolis in the middle of the path.

A human body with a camera looming over their city
sends them underground in an instant,
quicker than a Cooper’s hawk clears a yard of birds.
There were thousands crossing and crissing as I approached,
then there were none.
Zoom in on the picture and you’ll see,
in nearly every hole, ant heads looking up,
waiting for the all-clear.

The holes are new, they have no hills yet to shed rain.
Every couple of weeks they will be overrun by a 700 pound mower.
This was not an auspicious siting.

Perhaps they will endure regardless,
or be crushed, or move a few feet sidewards.

I’m betting they will outlast me, one way or another, as will the rocks.

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Special offer, April foolproof.


 MYSTERY E-BOOKS FREE!

from the Ellen and Geoffrey Fletcher Mystery series
just 3 days remaining

April 8th, 9th, 10th, of 2017, Saturday through Monday
free from Amazon.com (links below the cover pictures)
available only in Kindle format
It’s a simultaneous worldwide deal in all Amazon stores  —
US, Canada, Britain, France, Germany, Spain, Italy,
Netherlands, India, Australia, Japan, Mexico, Brazil.
People everywhere like free stuff.
Give either or both of these titles a try; and let me know what you think.
Comment here, or email me at mystery@budcrawford.com.

A few clips from readers,
carefully culled from
favorable reviews on Amazon.

    Fit to Curve is a skillfully written mystery with complex characters and such a fascinating plot that I’m way behind on my chores.
    This series is a favorite with interesting plots and wonderfully drawn characters. Wish the author would write more of them. The type of book you don’t want to end.
    A bed and breakfast mystery. Super characters, well developed. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop. A mouth-watering, good read. Love the old lady with the sharp wit. I’d like the recipes, too.
    The plot builds very slowly. But once I got into it, I was hooked. I liked the characters, and you get a lot of insight into them.
    This is too fine a novel to be mired in the mystery/suspense ghetto. It’s a good mystery, with a complex plot, all the mystery trappings, but the characters are rounded and attractive. The theme seems to me to be a consideration of morality – not just sexual morality (or immorality), though there’s some of that too, for those who like to read such descriptions, but all kinds of morality: for how high a price might you sell your soul?
Heart Attack is a great read!
    This couple are a great addition to the mystery genre. Sharp and interesting with a bit of humor and spice.
    Snappy dialog. Geoff and Ellen are a great team. He has a definite intuitive method of assessing info and arriving at conclusions that baffle and irk his cohorts. Ellen is more conventional and together are a great team. Unusual mystery not easily solved.

COMING SOON:

 

 

Charleston Story: seeking agent. Atlanta Story, final edit.
Drosselmeyer Chronicles (finished, first draft) and Just Rewards (current work in progress).

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