Wednesday, September 16, 2020




As I scan the garden, it appears

that a few plants I sowed last year

have moved on and left

no forwarding address.

Some have sauntered

from one end of the yard

to another, perhaps preferring

a sunnier or shadier location.

Worms, stiff as pipe cleaners,

are a testimony

to the deluge of winter rain.

Birds on telephone lines

resemble musical notes.

Above I hear the pulse

of a woodpecker as he seeks out

invaders under a tree’s skin.

I watch a spider offer a narcotic kiss

to a fly struggling in a web.

A tree trunks decaying armor

breaks away under my touch revealing

a chaotic city of insects.

The wind whinnies

through the weeping pussy willow

making their bare branches quiver

like an elderly hand.

Geese funnel across the sky overhead

as a giddy dragonfly zooms around,

and I almost expect to see

a jet’s contrail trailing

behind him.

Monday, September 7, 2020


 I wrote this poem long ago after seeing a homeless woman on the street. She used to wander the streets of our town. I had been told that she had once been in a home as she was mentally afflicted, but it had closed and she was on her own. She disappeared, not sure what happened to her.


I see her

shuffling towards me, disheveled, shabby,

soiled, shoes ragged, tattered black pants,

russet coat threadbare and frayed,

head topped by a black

antiquated hat of worn lace,

glimpses of silvery strands

dangling from beneath.

A frail figure swallowed up

in a sea of baggy garments.

A vacant expression drapes

her bony face. She leans

upon a grocery cart, its clumsy gait

echoing hers as she ambles nearer.

She mutters mysteriously with shadowy

companions. Sporadic jerks of her hands

swat at relentless insects persistently

buzzing insults of her condition.

She is close now, within arms reach.

I shudder uneasily.

Her eyes contact mine and,

at that moment,

when she smiles

I see her.

Thursday, August 27, 2020


 I wrote this poem when Randy and I first started seeing each other.


This morning as I flung open the curtains,

their rings hissing across the rod,

you greeted me in your flowing negligee of fog,

trees silhouetted against your bosom,

the muted sun crowning your feathery head.


You emerged, gracefully teased, tossed

away gossamer veils, exposed colors

dazzling with radiant orange and reds.

I slid succulent sweet grapes across

my tongue, tantalizing and delectable.


My stride was buoyant as I move -

feed felines, shower, brush teeth and hair,

whisper a prayer. Chiming sounds lure me,

treasured soul reaching out to mine,

my heart delighted by the concise message--


Just checking in on you. Sent photos on messenger.

You fill my waking with delightful surprises.

Perfect beginning to this silky day.

 Rose Lefebvre ©

Sunday, August 23, 2020


 This poem is about memories and holding on to them.


 My fingers stroll through the photographs. I recall

each moment that has been frozen in time.

I spread them out, recall each perfect memory,

its laughter, its color, its sweetness; sleepy

lakes where we camped and fished, sat observing

dragonflies and birds drop in and out of view.

Scenes of us glide through my mind - ambling

alongside free-spirited rivers, squirrels nattering

as we build a pine cone sculpture

to mark our passing through this place.

Cedar tree aromas embellish the air as we journey.

Poplars huddle in one space, as if in deep discussion,

and I whisper that I imagine the trees plotting,

exchanging rumors; we laugh together.

We wind among nodding ferns, looming trees,

dancing shadows, silently savor what God has formed,

enjoy the comforting influence upon us.

Shimmering webs mesmerize us, spongy blankets

of moss yield at our touch. As I fondle the moss,

you lean in and kiss my neck, whisper that you love me,

 and the world stops.


My mind now softly draws out memories

like a silk thread as I finger each photograph;

rich opalescent moments captured

by my camera and my mind’s eye.

Saffron dawns light up the morning sky,

softened sunsets stir my soul,

my memories illuminate my heart.


Rose Lefebvre©

Monday, August 10, 2020


Wednesday, August 5th, Randy and I went on a long excursion to get out in nature and away from the house.  We headed up to Trillium Lake expecting to take the hike around it and view Mt. Hood.. When we arrived we saw HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE! Apparently they had the same idea, and many were camping. 
Many were not wearing masks and far too close together. So we did not exit the car but shot a couple photos from inside.
We decided to try Timothy Lake so drove the 20 miles to there. It is a lovely drive so we enjoyed it.
The campgrounds were all full but we did find one of the day use areas to stretch out legs and relax.

My honey, Randy.
Randy and Charlotte
Then we headed off to Timberline Lodge to see the view.
They have a new indoor viewing area and this unique moving sculpture hung
in the center, moving slowly and changing its structure.
It also offers views through the panoramic windows.
I had never noticed this bear head on the outside of the lodge before!
Here is the lodge. And here is my man, Randy. We wore our masks.
A wonderful view through the windows of the lookout area.
We saw a cool looking barn across from a campground now closed. 
Next we stopped at Jonsrud viewpoint in Sandy, OR.
The viewpoint is less than a mile down Bluff Road from Highway 26. There is parking at the site. Nearby trails below the viewpoint are accessible in Sandy River Park.
This viewpoint showcases a 180-degree view of Mt. Hood with a large meadow below it, the Sandy River 400 feet below, the Bull Run Watershed (source of Portland's water), Mt. Adams, and other mountains in Washington. It offers one of the best views in Oregon. Bonus points for stopping by during sunrise, sunset with alpen glow on Mt. Hood, or when a full moon is rising behind the mountain. 
The viewpoint was named after Phil Jonsrud, a local historian in the city of Sandy.Jonsrud, born in Kelso, was a war veteran who also spent time in New York City, though lived the majority of his life in Sandy. The off-ramp at the viewpoint was paved by the Jonsrud family
It was so nice to escape!
Have any of you had an adventure lately?

Wednesday, July 22, 2020


The Connie Hansen Garden is located at 1931 NW 33rd St. in Lincoln City, OR.Connie began the garden in 1973 and it has been featured in Sunset magazine, The Oregonian and Fine Gardening magazine. She was  a botanist. It is more than an acre of garden. It is so lovely and I enjoyed strolling through it. Here are the photographs I took! I hope you enjoy them.
 The fern on the left was curly and on the right made x's with its leaves! Cool!
 The above leaves were about 2 ft across--HUGE!
 They had some amazing hydrangeas.
Sweet singer watched us wander.
I hope you have enjoyed the garden!
I know I did.