Saturday, October 8, 2016


My garden is still so colorful and lovely.  I know it is fall, but it is hanging in there.  Our weather has become cold and rainy off and on, so it has affected my recovery. The cold has caused my legs to be in lots of pain because of the arthritis, and makes it very difficult to do my physical therapy exercises at home as leg is so stiff.  It has also slowed my movement.  Looking out at the garden through the windows makes me think God is giving me a "thinking of you" card. The pain is so difficult to deal with and does make me feel down.  Right now the garden is my sunshine in otherwise difficult days.
Here is what I enjoy.
In our daily lives we often forget to notice the beauty God provides in our lives. 
Being laid up has kept me from much activity, so the views from my windows are so greatly appreciated by me. 
I hope they make you stop, look, and appreciate.

Tuesday, October 4, 2016


I have discovered how few places provide electric carts for use.  I do not have the strength and stamina to walk very far at all as still working on regaining muscle and strength. So now when I do take a short jaunt out, I need an electric cart to use.  Now my ventures are limited because of this.  Before my fall in May I was always out and about and kept active.  Now I do so miss going to my favorite thrift shops, antique stores, garage sales, seasonal events, fairs, and for hikes with my camera.  Just going out to lunch or dinner with a friend takes a lot out of me.  I am so tired of feeling like this and spending so much time sitting or laying down. *sigh*  
Here is a poem I have edited a few times and decided to share with you all. Many of my friends have already heard it.  I hope you all enjoy it.

My Gentle Green Heart

it’s the mottled green of a forest, damp
after a rainfall, leaves tossing watery
jewels to the spongy moss below.

At times
it’s the pale green of grinning Bramley apples
blushing in the sunshine, scenting
the breeze with their acidic aroma.

Now and then
it’s the emerald of a slick lizard
scurrying along soft mossy bark
of a stoic fir tossing cones.

It may be
a striped watermelon dripping
with luscious sweetness, tempting
us to taste, discover, enjoy.

my gentle green heart is a seedling
peeking from the shelter of its fleshy soul
seeking warmth, nourishment, and affection.

Rose Lefebvre

Wednesday, September 28, 2016


 Maria Muldaur was one of the singers I fell in love with in the 70's.  A great singer, she was famous for her song MIDNIGHT AT THE OASIS. I decided a while back to write a bit of a romantic poem about a couple of her songs due to a writing prompt.  I am also including a couple of her songs for you to hear.


I travel down the bump and grind road
My body forced into an unintentional
Lap dance in the driver’s seat.
The A/C on the fritz, windows are down
yet steamy air does not lessen my sweltering.
Clothing adheres to my damp skin,
shivers run up my spine; I shudder.

Radio reception bad, I pop in
 my homemade CD of Maria Muldaur songs
instantly starting off with Don’t You Feel My Leg.
Her sultry bluesy voice fills the van,
eases into my essence, the ebb and flow
makes me undulate like a wave.

Heat begins to flow from the outside
to the inside of my body, surging,
pulsing to the beat.

As she slips into her song
It Ain’t the Meat It’s the Motion
I shudder, my sensations stimulated,
aroused by the words, the heady atmosphere.

I feel sensual as I pull up to the cabin and see
him, shirtless, hair tousled, approaching
as I descend from the atmosphere of the van.
“You look flushed. You want some cold water?”
The CD in one hand, I take his hand in my other,
kiss his neck and, smiling, move to the cabin
to share the experience with him

and maybe give a lap dance.

Rose Lefebvre ©


Saturday, September 24, 2016


 I was lucky to take a few workshops with the Oregon Poet Laureate Emeritus Paulann Petersen.  She is amazing and gets the creative juices flowing.  We were told to write a different way to describe things, being unique.  I chose Whirlpool and Mist. We were to keep them short.
How did I do?

Liquid hurricane tickling across stones,
the laughing, spinning, dizzy
Rollercoaster for leaves and twigs,
a merry-go-round for daring frogs.
A shroud upon hillsides and mountains,
a painter creating ghostly silhouettes of grand firs
in mottled shades of grays,
composing depth, softening landscape.
a million dandelions flooding the sky,
a softened surfing cloud,
a smoky blanket obscuring fields,
dispersed where roads cut through.

Rose Lefebvre

Sunday, September 18, 2016


I write poetry and realize that I have not shared much of it on my blog.  So on this rainy day here this one came back into my memory.  I hope you all enjoy reading it, and my photo as well.


Rivulets of rain carve wrinkles
in the earth; feathered clouds
depleted of energy for now
glide listlessly overhead.

Worms, expelled from sodden soil,
form mysterious script  on the path,
native code talkers writing
alien communication.

Liquid diamonds quiver on a strand
 of spider silk, a bracelet adorning
the uplifted arm of a red bud tree
swaying to a rumba beat.

Rain-pasted leaves craft
a collage of natural hues
alongside the river running russet
with torn flesh from mountains.

Along the worn path miniature craters
comprise a moonscape
as wind wafts diminutive swells
across scattered puddles.

The fragrance of moist grass
is a heady aroma,
an aide memoire of
renewal and growth.

Returning home as rain begins again
I gaze through the icy window,
witness the writing of water
across it, and covet its clarity.

Rose Lefebvre