In each season there is wonder, but none so vibrant or hold-your-breath beautiful as whatever season is being experienced here, now. This baby robin has just flown its nest and stands immersed in grass for the first time, in the color green. What is she thinking? How does she process the abundance around her?
Could a baby bird help us to remember that feeling, the way it was when we took our first steps, when our eyes encountered a new color, when we ran our hands through the soft green leaves of grass, and smelled the smell of damp earth and could not call it ordinary?
The speckled breast of the baby bird is there to remind us that to be alive can be enough. To be receptive to what is rather than what isn't. To be empty and then to be filled.
To hunker down when the world seems too big or too cold, and to take comfort in the illusion of safety in the word and the place and the reality of home.
My name is Rae Hallstrom, and in my Ameriku brand of art, my original haiku is coupled with my nature photography to create an oasis of serenity, and a focal point for reflection. I want to welcome you to visit my website (click on the title) and thank you for supporting my work.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Thursday, December 2, 2010
A Wintry Autumn Day in Ohio
The snow arrived yesterday, with December, and with it, the exodus of mild temperatures experienced only the day before. On the roads, accidents and near-accidents. In the yards, children tearing up the snow in the dark before bed and again before the next day's school bus.
A female American goldfinch perched at my feeder this morning, and just before she arrived, a female cardinal ate. In their muted colors, I would not have been able to identify them from much farther away, on the bony limbs of a pin oak. At the feeder, they seem nuanced in elegance.
A stray dog came through the yard, his black coat betraying his customary cloak-and-dagger approach, eliciting a come-here whistle that only served to scare him off.
And yet, officially, it is still fall. In the wintry days of haiku, the world appears new, and the snow highlights players who would otherwise remain unseen.
There is always something in nature to mirror the human spirit, and something in the human spirit to appreciate, and wonder at, nature.
Thank you for visiting this blog, and for supporting my Ameriku art.
A female American goldfinch perched at my feeder this morning, and just before she arrived, a female cardinal ate. In their muted colors, I would not have been able to identify them from much farther away, on the bony limbs of a pin oak. At the feeder, they seem nuanced in elegance.
A stray dog came through the yard, his black coat betraying his customary cloak-and-dagger approach, eliciting a come-here whistle that only served to scare him off.
And yet, officially, it is still fall. In the wintry days of haiku, the world appears new, and the snow highlights players who would otherwise remain unseen.
There is always something in nature to mirror the human spirit, and something in the human spirit to appreciate, and wonder at, nature.
Thank you for visiting this blog, and for supporting my Ameriku art.
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Tuesday, November 30, 2010
The Trail of Time
Today, at November's last gasp in Ohio, we have rain instead of snow, and it is possible to dash out to the mailbox without a coat. The chrysanthemums have faded and the grass and the weeds have gone dormant, so the only reason to mow is to bag the leaves that continue to drop.
Where did the month go?
Toward the end of autumn, it might seem as if there is nothing in nature to buoy the spirit, but that is when haiku and art become all the more important.
It is easy to see the beauty in spring and summer, but the decay of late autumn is more challenging, unless we see, as Goethe said, with new eyes.
Then, if we are lucky, we may find a slide of water on the porch rail and see, reflected in it, the entire sky in all its hues.
Thank you for visiting this blog, and for supporting Ameriku art.
Where did the month go?
Toward the end of autumn, it might seem as if there is nothing in nature to buoy the spirit, but that is when haiku and art become all the more important.
It is easy to see the beauty in spring and summer, but the decay of late autumn is more challenging, unless we see, as Goethe said, with new eyes.
Then, if we are lucky, we may find a slide of water on the porch rail and see, reflected in it, the entire sky in all its hues.
Thank you for visiting this blog, and for supporting Ameriku art.
Labels:
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Monday, November 8, 2010
Stray Basketballs
Here's what I would have written about, if I'd posted during the summer, and on through the fall. There were hummingbirds, chickadees, robins and cardinals. Squirrels and chipmunks and stray basketballs.
Last week, on my birthday, a squirrel climbed the stalk of the giant sunflower planted in my next door neighbor's yard. From my second-story bedroom, I saw the squirrel scoot up the stalk, reach into the flower head and then scurry off.
Above the squirrel, before the squirrel, I saw a rainbow. There was mist in the air and it had rained gently all night long.
Downstairs, on the deck, two squirrels came to drink rain water from an upturned plastic lid. This was not a lid from a peanut butter jar, or a sandbox, or laundry detergent.
The lid had once covered a sheet cake. At least six inches deep, it now held brown water and dead oak leaves. In the spring I'd tried to grow avocado plants from seed, and the lid had served as a miniature greenhouse.
Out front, against the milky cobalt of the azure sky, the brown leaves of another oak shivered in the breeze.
These are the things that fill me. These are the things that inform my haiku, and my Ameriku art. And they are not things at all, are they?
What informs you? What fills you up?
Thank you for visiting this blog and for supporting Ameriku art.
Last week, on my birthday, a squirrel climbed the stalk of the giant sunflower planted in my next door neighbor's yard. From my second-story bedroom, I saw the squirrel scoot up the stalk, reach into the flower head and then scurry off.
Above the squirrel, before the squirrel, I saw a rainbow. There was mist in the air and it had rained gently all night long.
Downstairs, on the deck, two squirrels came to drink rain water from an upturned plastic lid. This was not a lid from a peanut butter jar, or a sandbox, or laundry detergent.
The lid had once covered a sheet cake. At least six inches deep, it now held brown water and dead oak leaves. In the spring I'd tried to grow avocado plants from seed, and the lid had served as a miniature greenhouse.
Out front, against the milky cobalt of the azure sky, the brown leaves of another oak shivered in the breeze.
These are the things that fill me. These are the things that inform my haiku, and my Ameriku art. And they are not things at all, are they?
What informs you? What fills you up?
Thank you for visiting this blog and for supporting Ameriku art.
Labels:
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Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Avian Toddlers
Today marks my first sighting of the year for baby birds crouched on the railing of my deck, fluffed wide and fat, beaks open, begging for food. Between the new down and the ruffling of its feathers, this little house sparrow takes up twice the space of its mother.
Like a human toddler that crawls and then pulls itself up, the baby sparrow is mobile, but clumsy. To reach its current position, a couple of feet away from the Yankee Flipper squirrel-proof bird feeder, the stubby avian baby must fly a short distance.
As I watch the drab female sparrow dash between the feeder and the railing, filling her baby's beak in the dappled shade that the pin oak paints the deck, something wonderful fills me up, too.
My name is Rae Hallstrom, and Ameriku® is my art and my business and my brand. I'd love to hear from you about this topic, the blog, or my art. Just post a comment, or send me an email through the link on my website.
Meanwhile, I invite you to take a look at some of my Ameriku® art (move cursor to title and click). Ameriku Ltd produces nature-oriented art prints, posters, greeting cards and other items, based on my original poetry and photography.
Ameriku® is the registered trademark of Ameriku Ltd. When you see the Ameriku® trademark, you can be sure the work meets my high standards of quality.
All rights reserved.
Like a human toddler that crawls and then pulls itself up, the baby sparrow is mobile, but clumsy. To reach its current position, a couple of feet away from the Yankee Flipper squirrel-proof bird feeder, the stubby avian baby must fly a short distance.
As I watch the drab female sparrow dash between the feeder and the railing, filling her baby's beak in the dappled shade that the pin oak paints the deck, something wonderful fills me up, too.
My name is Rae Hallstrom, and Ameriku® is my art and my business and my brand. I'd love to hear from you about this topic, the blog, or my art. Just post a comment, or send me an email through the link on my website.
Meanwhile, I invite you to take a look at some of my Ameriku® art (move cursor to title and click). Ameriku Ltd produces nature-oriented art prints, posters, greeting cards and other items, based on my original poetry and photography.
Ameriku® is the registered trademark of Ameriku Ltd. When you see the Ameriku® trademark, you can be sure the work meets my high standards of quality.
All rights reserved.
Labels:
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Monday, May 17, 2010
Spring Observation
A robin walks down the cement driveway in the rain, a comic sight, its legs stiff as if from disuse. In the holly, still bearing its winter red berries, another robin nests.
The holly is on the other side of my living room window, so that I can peek at the nest from inside the house. When the robin leaves to stretch her wings and find food, I see that she has laid four blue eggs, each one no bigger than the pad of my forefinger.
How is spring shaping up for you? What sights and sounds do you notice? Which ones make you feel something? These are the springboards of poetry.
My name is Rae Hallstrom, and Ameriku® is my art and my business and my brand.
I hope you'll take a look (move cursor to title and click), and see if Ameriku® art suits your decor, or gift giving needs. And feel free to leave a comment here, if you wish.
Ameriku Ltd produces nature-oriented art prints, posters, greeting cards and other items, based on my original poetry and photography.
Ameriku® is the registered trademark of Ameriku Ltd. When you see the Ameriku® trademark, you can be sure the work meets my high standards of quality.
All rights reserved.
The holly is on the other side of my living room window, so that I can peek at the nest from inside the house. When the robin leaves to stretch her wings and find food, I see that she has laid four blue eggs, each one no bigger than the pad of my forefinger.
How is spring shaping up for you? What sights and sounds do you notice? Which ones make you feel something? These are the springboards of poetry.
My name is Rae Hallstrom, and Ameriku® is my art and my business and my brand.
I hope you'll take a look (move cursor to title and click), and see if Ameriku® art suits your decor, or gift giving needs. And feel free to leave a comment here, if you wish.
Ameriku Ltd produces nature-oriented art prints, posters, greeting cards and other items, based on my original poetry and photography.
Ameriku® is the registered trademark of Ameriku Ltd. When you see the Ameriku® trademark, you can be sure the work meets my high standards of quality.
All rights reserved.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Cat on a Cold Day's Deck

It is not February in Ohio without snow. Yesterday the roads were clear. Today, they are a mirage. Snow has erased the path, and where to go, as well as how to get there, remains unclear.
The snow is coming down like a mist, with separate flakes that seem to have passed through a flour sifter.
Does anybody use a flour sifter any more? Only the sky.
Chickadees, starlings, sparrows, mourning doves and cardinals visit the feeder on the deck. The cat knocks over a potted parsley plant in her excitement to reach the sliding glass door. Dirt nestles into the cream-colored carpet, like bird seed scattered on the snow outside.
A snow virgin, the cat seems surprised when her paws sink. She mews. Like static electricity, her fur attracts the snow. She forgets the allure of birds and squirrels, and rushes back to the house, carrying the snow inside. It melts, leaving her in a condition no cat wants.
She becomes the alter ego of a cat on a hot tin roof.
snow---
unexpected bath
for the cat
My name is Rae Hallstrom, and Ameriku® is my art and my business and my brand.
I hope you'll take a look (move cursor to title and click), and see if Ameriku® art suits your decor, or gift giving needs. And feel free to leave a comment here, if you wish.
Ameriku Ltd produces nature-oriented art prints, posters, greeting cards and other items, based on my original poetry and photography.
Ameriku® is the registered trademark of Ameriku Ltd. When you see the Ameriku® trademark, you can be sure the work meets my high standards of quality.
All rights reserved.
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