
melted crayons spill
drip, swirl, splash-silhouettes pause . . .
pathway to the day
melted crayons by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley sunrise
by Angie 7 Comments

melted crayons spill
drip, swirl, splash-silhouettes pause . . .
pathway to the day
melted crayons by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley sunrise

winter! there you are,
dancing in, fancy free . . . wood
is wearing snow clothes
snow clothes by Angie Quantrell
Winter, Yakima Valley
by Angie 2 Comments

deep freeze encrusted
window seat blocked, but sun! blue
escapes winter’s grasp
winter’s grasp by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley, 2024

only on my desk
are you allowed; come spring, no!
be gone garden snails
allowed by Angie Quantrell
tiny metal snail from Florence, Italy
by Angie 5 Comments

i often wonder
why the couch looks like this-yikes-
playtime strikes again
playtime by Angie Quantrell
inspiration: Monet, destroyer of couch and assorted other household locations

I woke up one morning composing this haiku in my head. I was literally playing with words and counting out lines while I was in that between fully asleep and fully awake stage. That’s never happened before. I grabbed for my phone to take notes before my eyes were even fully open. LOL. My honey thought something was wrong, I grabbed the phone so fast.

Have you ever sleep-dreamed a poem or story idea?

Monet would like to know. And wonders if you have a couch she can destroy, or at the least, rearrange.
by Angie 6 Comments

three little drops hang
downside up, gazing balls show
sky view around me
downside up by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley
by Angie 4 Comments

purple-y icing,
frosted blooms hanging on for
dear life-autumn’s end
autumn’s end by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley
by Angie 2 Comments

seven years it took
from walnut to parent tree
life spark so divine
life spark by Angie Quantrell
photo and art by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley
Seven and a half years ago, my husband found this walnut (seen in sketch) wedged in a small flower bed at work. Whether accidentally dropped or carried and deposited by an animal, the walnut had that spark of life and sprouted right where it could never survive due to the rest of the surroundings. So he brought me home a baby tree. A BABY baby tree. I was holding a baby tree in my hand, one that would possibly outgrow me if it survived, grow to both amazing heights and depths, and produce hundreds if not thousands of new offspring.
This year, year seven, my husband found a walnut near a fruit tree as he raked leaves to put on the garden beds. Hmmm. And then he realized the connection between the nearby walnut tree and the walnut. He found a total of three, though we’ve been watching every year to see if “this” was the year of harvesting walnuts. We nearly missed it! There could have been more, but we have an active wildlife scene going on here in the pasture.
Each walnut is filled with potential, and the spark of life given from God, to grow, reproduce, and fulfill its purpose. We are the beneficiaries. Shade, leaves, wood, food, beauty.
Life spark.

Our baby walnut tree, which is indeed taller than me, is resting for the winter so it can grow more babies. Meanwhile, it adds a festive touch to the pasture as it wears Christmas lights.

a random leaf i
think not, rather a love note
signed, heart chewing bug
heart chewing bug by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley

the rain is sopping
wet; must clip it on the rack,
hang it out to dry
out to dry by Angie Quantrell
photos by Angie Quantrell
Yakima Valley
