Monday, March 25, 2013


                      A DRIVE IN THE JURA MOUNTAINS 

It is a gray Saturday, hardly a picture postcard kind of day.  We decide to ignore the weather and venture forth.  Behind us are the Alps and Lac Leman; ahead of us rise the Jura.

                                             layers of mountains
                                             fused with mist…
                                             the cloud peaks

Our destination—nowhere in particular.
Curving and twisting, we meander upward, past farms and through villages.  Dark, weatherworn, dung –colored houses and barns, unchanged for a hundred years.  Only the flowers are fresh and vibrant.

                                               flower splashes
                                               spilling out of windows
                                               filling the gardens

                                               stone houses,
                                               their crumbling walls patched
                                               with geraniums

Jumping a hundred years we pass tractors and binding machines.  Twentieth century noises blending with timeless rural sounds:  cows with clanging bells munching grass, raucous crows brazenly flapping after a tractor.  And everywhere smells punctuating what we see and hear.

                                               from an open barn
                                               the odor of hay and manure
                                               and climbing roses

We pass through a winter sports town.  Ski runs, now grassy slopes, the skating rink a meadow wild with flowers and colored banners announcing the kermesse(village fair).

                                               with easy swiftness
                                               summer tourists
                                               walk the ski runs

We stop by a thick grove of beech trees.

                                               looking for sky,
                                               seeing only mossy trunks
                                               and wild ivy

                                               the seeping dampness
                                               sitting on wet rocks…
                                               the hot coffee

Voices….another family in the woods.
                                               gathering berries,
                                               listening to the plink, plink,
                                               then silence

We start back but are soon slowed.

                                               plot, plop on the road…
                                               cars follow the cow trail
                                               to the milking barn

Late afternoon, the mist fading, outlines appear.  The glue-grayness gives way to the greens and gold of the wheat and corn fields checker boarding the hills.  Our perseverance is rewarded by a weak sun.
                                               clearing skies
                                               summer comes dribbling
                                               between storms

  Modern Haiku, Vv, No. 3, 1974
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Bill said...

A little odyssey. Well done.

Adelaide said...

Thanks, Bill. This was a long time ago, the 1st or 2nd attempt at haibun.


Anonymous said...

Marvelous work, this extended haibun, Ms Shaw. I'm glad I found you.

I'm honored to share a page with you in the current World Haiku Review. Your work there really resonates with me (and My Beloved Sandra) as gardeners of a certain, increasingly creaky, age. Salute!

PS: in that regard (ie gardening) you might enjoy this: BY THE DOZENS

Adelaide said...

Thank you, Ron. I shall check out By the Dozens. Gardening is pleasurable, but in recent years, the end result more so than the work.


STOPS said...

i like thie winter
between haiku blogs


Adelaide said...

Thank you for visiting my blog.


janetld said...

I enjoyed reading about your journey through the Jura. :)

Adelaide said...

Thank you, Janet.


Gillena Cox said...

The image of the barn looks like an enormous gaping mouth, it's satiety is accomplished in so much to gather and engulf in your haibun tryst


much love...

Adelaide said...

Thank you, Gillena.

Happy Easter.