Carol A. Hand
Watching dragonflies that are almost as big as hummingbirds
glistening golden sunlight reflecting from their gossamer wings
as they flutter and float and zoom about
In awe of their beauty my grateful heart sings
And then an amazing thing happens
One flies up to me and gently kisses my hair
awakening a memory of a walk with my mother
when dragonflies circled about everywhere
Canada Darner – Aeshna Canadensis (Phil Myers, biokids.umich.edu)
The healing scent of sun-kissed pines, the whispering whir of dragonfly wings
Walking together down wooded paths where our ancestors once roamed
I think of your gentle joyful spirit as I remember these simple miraculous things
***
Note:
My mother died almost six years ago only a few miles away from the Ojibwe reservation home where she was born in 1921. We made this walk together thirty years before her death when she was recovering from an allergic reaction to a routine test that almost killed her. I remember her delight with the dragonflies that circled us, protecting us from the swarms of mosquitoes.
About the photograph: After I drafted this, a former student called. As I was sitting out on my back step talking to her, one of the dragonflies settled on the metal railing inches away from me. Ah, where is my camera at such moments! The dragonfly was gone by the time I returned camera in hand, darting teasingly nonstop forever out of camera range. But at least I was able to study the beautiful markings and find a photo on the internet.
***
Copyright Notice: © Carol A. Hand and carolahand, 2013-2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Carol A. Hand and carolahand with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.
I love dragonflies, there is so much variety. I love when those memories pop up. I had the same experience seeing a bluebird. Bluebirds seem rare these days, so they always bring me memories of Mom.
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Thank you for your kind words, April, and for sharing such special memories. I’m deeply grateful. ❤
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Beautiful moments.
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Chi miigwetch, Diane ❤
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Very touching
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Thank you for your kind words, Bethanyk ❤
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Lovely, Carol. These are the moments, a deft interworking of sound and feel shared with another, that come back the strongest with the right fragment…
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Thank you for your thoughtful comments, Jean. I agree that our senses trigger memories and bring back the details. (It’s something I learned in a workshop about using “art” to unlock people’s – usually painful – untold stories. But I prefer to use it to unlock pleasant memories.)
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I think unlocking pleasant memories to be a far better use of the tactic, too. 🙂
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I absolutely love your stories about the Ojibwe. And I too love dragonflies and damselflies. They are beautiful and fascinating creatures. And it’s so sweet that they bring back memories of your mother. In fact, mayble the one that landed near your today was of your mother’s spirit. Charming, charming post Carol. It warmed my heart and ended my day on such a sweet note. 🙂 ❤
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Thank you so much for your lovely comments, and for sharing your love of dragonflies, Natalie. ❤
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You’re welcome! I would love to have been on one of those walks with you and your mom❣😘
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Thank you, Natalie ❤
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Beautiful reflection, Carol. Heart warming memories.
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Thank you for your kind words, dear Izzy ❤
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Dragonflies are amazing and beautiful insects. But unfortunately, they have always freaked me out. Yes, I know, I am a wimp!;-) On the other hand, I love butterflies, but then again, who doesn’t!
A beautiful memory and poem, Carol!
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I appreciate your honesty, Dave, and who doesn’t love butterflies? (I used to call them “flutter-byes” as a child – I still think it’s a more fitting name.)
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“flutter-byes” Great name!
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🙂
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Carol, this is beautiful. A splendid tribute for your mother to enjoy, as she sails the heavens under her own gossamer wings.
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Thank you for such lovely words and blessings, Peter! ❤
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Healing scent of Sun-kissed pines, sigh…I climbed many a pine tree growing up in the Pacific Northwest. During the warm weather the sap pockets on the skin of the pine trees would burst, hands sticky, wiping them in the dry grass only resulted in a palm of resin with added grass chaff… Thank you for igniting a warm memory my friend 🙂
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Thank you so much for sharing such special, beautiful memories, Ray. Sending you blessings, dear friend 🙂
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