Caroline Gerardo haiku, journal

Saturday, February 6, 2016

Fog Lifts

Seed Catalogs pile on the coffee table. 
Not throwing them out with the clutter purge, yet.
By this time of year I clone roses, clematis vines, 
and hydrangeas. Winter is seeds purchasing time. Start them in sunny
kitchen windows, then move gradually to the "greenhouse." 
Greenhouse doesn't have heat. Normally in Coastal California nights
don't freeze. Last couple, however; harsh dry winds and 
cold threatens to burn tender projects. Mild freeze turns chartreuse new
sprouts to red. Frost makes the cells turn to mush as if desiccated
then liquidated. The tingling feeling in fingers when exposed
to snow too long. 

Since the plan is in pen to sell and move I haven't traded seeds on
heirloom seed swap and garden web seed exchange. 
In the garage sit paper bags full of smaller brown parcels of seeds. 
An idea came to mind to plant them in my Mother's 
and sister's gardens in hopes they bloom
and produce seed for 2017 
when I plan to be settled in a new home. 
I'm downsizing from a huge high maintenance castle. 
I plan to rent for six months to a year.
Find the ideal cottage with a small yard. 
Everywhere I lived I changed an ugly plat or acreage into a stain glass church of flowers.
Come over before the smell of paradise disappears.
Will I stay here? Perhaps renting is a change that frees time.
No longer will I be weekend warrior.
Scrubbing the pool tile, painting ceilings or repairing plumbing. 
Did I tell you about the six foot glass panel shattering over the
pansies Sunday? I'm still picking up bits. 
Save Honey (Golden Retriever) from harm with tangled contraptions.

Will this give me the desire to fly? 
After living in suburbia and owning a ranch to give my children a great
life start maybe I will move to New York or back to London or Mumbai?

My necklace clasp hits cross and hair entwines. 
It's a sign.
Morning fog lifts. 
Time to pray for all.

Cells below fingernails have minuscule shards of glass.
Becoming a part of my spirit
It's not like sand in eye scratching.
It's that missing feeling when I think of my son at college.
Or when someone mentioned Lacrosse on Facebook.
No more running to High School games to work the stats.

But it's in my heart.
Fog before hiking Yosemite 2016 Caroline Gerardo

morning Yosemite snow and fog Caroline Gerardo

Chain link fence and morning sun

Caroline Gerardo Copyright 2/6/2016 
Empty Nest Thoughts

Tuesday, February 2, 2016

Railroad Poem

in margin 
in silence
in death
pass columns
Doric, Ionic, Corinthian order. 

no mule
no shoes
no saddle 
sky shatters
soft, long, stormy sounds.

is spirit
is cross
is gold
fix tangle
hair, skin, metal collide.

of dust
of memory
of hearts
whisper prayers
creosote, copper, concrete joy.

Railroad Poem 2016 copyright Caroline Gerardo

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Ahwahnee Belongs To Me

Hiked Yosemite 
yosemite fog in snow

Yosemite mossy trees in snow

John Muir cries

Railroad Delaware North Corp sued USA over loss of Ahwahnee Hotel, Curry Village... 
as business property

Who does Yosemite belong to?

Chief George Dick is my ancestor.

Canyon live oak, choke cherry and golden brodiaea are my sustenance.

Past years Delaware North (DNC) filed copyrights of
historic names, federal protected National Park lands in Yosemite.
DNC lost the contracts to concessions to Aramark.
Ha Ha they think.
Aramark will have to rename and re-brand every sign, napkin and rock in Yosemite.
"Go climb a rock,"  no more ~ patented words not allowed to speak on lips. 
March 2016 Ahwahnee Hotel becomes Majestic Yosemite Hotel. 

I alone brand Mariposa tulips.  

Shower in the fire of Horsetail Falls.

Employees at the hotel  know nothing

Decline to comment in shame.

Who cares if they paint over the hand 
trimmed borders in the rooms?

Who cares if greed walks off with the
hearth andirons? 

Who owns the names of history?

Whose right?

Filing my claim. 

Ahwahnee belongs to me.


Poem photographs and video copyright © 2016 Caroline Gerardo
Do you think a Corporation (DNC) should keep our national treasures?

Friday, January 22, 2016



A familiar mug.

Not a tea cup. 
A sturdy arm.
Old boyfriend
threw it away.
Kids blamed
missing toys
on Tidy Bob.
"Tossed shit
on trash day"
Sneak stuff
out when the 
truck comes.
Miss that mug.
Our Halloween
decorations sit
in a landfill.
Breaking down
compost into
sunflowers in 
a new vase. 

graveyard hydrangeas
bridge to past
burned motor home

Poem and images
 copyright 2016
Caroline Gerardo

Tuesday, January 19, 2016



Keeps killing the shamrock plant
"Oxalis regnellii," I told him, "doesn't care
for wet feet."
Weed the garden with rubber clogs.
Imitation crocodiles that blister toes.
Be responsible for the earth.
Kindness scraping calloused hands, 
roses trim back for winter, and soon
blue and yellow skies turn to spring.

Caroline Gerardo Copyright Poem and images 2016