Tag Archives: summer

Painted sunset sky


This was taken by me while

standing in my son James’

and wife Trista’s backyard.

Cool, damp grass upon

bare feet. Each sound clear 

of mosquito buzzing, dog 

barking as ball thrown to her

and last songs for the evening

sung by birds and parents (who

still read books and) sing lullabies.

Wishing one of your dreams or

hopes come true this summer.

~ reocochran, 6/16/17.

Blazing skies


There are curses heard, 

Some under their breaths,

Then ones right out loud.

Yes, this is the curved road

or driveway heading towards work.

A place which is antiquated,

used to have a railway entrance,

can see the trails of metal rails

along the edge, the side of the

building where the “dungeon,”

the aerosol room or the

“bomb shelter,” as it still remains

named by the older workers.

My dear friend, Bill, who many may 

remember took me to see the areas

of Ohio where nature preserves, 

echers, waterfalls and landmarks,

both in cemeteries and tallest

“mountain” (biggest hill) 

Ohio is. There are posts 

which start with the one titled,

“The Man My Daughter Knew First.”

Then we travelled in his little, 

old red pick-up truck to the

caves of Kentucky, the river and

speed racing area of Madison,

the high Clifty Falls of Indiana

and the UP as well as the lovely,

Fairy tale town of Charlevoix,

Michigan where my first college

dormitory friend and Maid of Honor

spends her Spring through Fall, 

the dreaded “Hurricane Season.”

(She spends her late Autumn,

Winter and early Spring in

Long Beach, Mississippi.)

 Yes, to Castle Farms and road trips!

~  **  ~

We were standing at the time clock,

Bill and I, recently. He was clocking

out of a long, sweaty night, as I was

(Unfortunately) clocking in.

I asked him, this being only his 

second place of employment,

after over Forty Years here,

“What in the world had possibly

caused you to stay here, of all places?”

He chuckled and whispered,

“I liked the people,

It paid my family’s bills,

I still count about five people here,

(showing me his big, right hand)

Who have made me feel like

I had the best life ever,

Who still work here.”

I sighed, thinking about my

joyous preschool teaching days,

middle school Language Arts days,

and I smiled at my dear sister in law’s

words which moved me forward 

in this line of people, taking

my name tag with its

microchip inside

and I clocked in.

Susan is a very



(and Dean!)

who reminds me:

“You get paid to work out, Robin.” 

Ha ha ha!

  🙂    🙂

Great Uncle Randy and Micah say their “Last Hurrah to Summer!”


No one helped Micah dig 

the huge hole his body and 

folded legs fit into the dirt 

plus sandy beach.

His Nana gave him a tool,

“Here’s the shovel we bought.”

She wandered over a few times

to lend her foot, as she carved 

an irrigation ditch to bring waves

of water into what she originally 

thought was going to be a 

Renaissance castle’s moat!

Micah had other plans, unspoken

to grandmother or her brother, as

we heard him say often to passers-by:

“It is getting almost BIG enough!”

We glanced at each other, an

artist whose body and hands 

get tired and worn from 

ceiling murals, large

palette held in one

hand, while other 

presses firmly on

wall or brick to

prevent a huge,



I am “the”

Nana, who was

proud of energy output

and industrious nature 

of a singular grandson 

over a holiday weekend.

Tell me, is it a Coney footlong

hotdog, as my good friend Jenny

chooses to eat from our local 

Dairy Point? Or is it a triple

scoop ice cream banana split

or ~ is it a trip to Lake Erie over

Labor Day weekend: Your own

personal way of celebrating

“The End of Summer?”

written by reocochran,

photo by same of her

high school “hometown”

Huntington Beach, 2016.


Autumn arrives this 


September 22nd.

Hanging by a thread




This is my second Cicada post,

which many comments touched

me deeply. I would like to feature

a great description of what I was

portraying, given by a fellow

blogger and friend:

“Sometimes a moment of

observation can really take us

on a journey of reflection.”

~Merril D. Smith

(part of a comment on my post)

Please sometime check Merril’s

blog out for poems, thoughts,

intermingling with history:


Suspended from the edge of my

towel, Cicada kept his grip

while I may have lost mine.

I tried to read outdoors, this is

normally relaxing.

But the poor bug

was “bugging me.”

Why are some given

nearly perfect, flawless,

idyllic childhoods and others

face daily struggles and challenges?

It was such a relief, a point of

recognition and an “answer”

to my erratic ponderings

to be looking through

my personal 2016

floral covered

journal and

the “aha!”


finally gave

me peace through

Maya Angelou’s words:

“Love recognizes no barriers,

It jumps hurdles,

Leaps fences,

Penetrates walls,

to arrive at the


Full of Hope.”

The insect world,

it’s own microcosm,

had explained some of

the inconsistencies of Life,

through a Cicada who arrived

by landing on my towel and

as I looked into its beady eyes

I realized this is all of existence,

no perfection nor fairness.

Be kind, be aware of daily

messages which will

both scare and warm

your beautiful heart.

The quote inserted here,

as mentioned, was from one

of America's most beloved,

"Poet Laureates."

The rest of every word here

was spewed forth through

some elements of angst

and some of love for

her fellow man.

Photo taken

by her, too.

~ Robin Oldrieve Cochran

Bumblebee with white flower pollen



This bumblebee was so rude,

His or her behind facing outwards,

Entrenched deep into the blossom.

White pollen dusting his yellow

and black stripes.


Photo taken

by reocochran.

I was listed and linked to

a dear friend who has a grandie,

has a sense of humor and may think

a bee’s “bum” covered with pollen

is amusing and silly! Her name

is Diane, she used to play

a flute, is called “Dee”

by those closest to

her. Please check

her blog out

since I may

not get to

an award




Thank you, Diane! xo

Thanks, everyone else who show

patience in my tardy replies

and my late arrivals to

your lovely posts.

<3. ❤

Wasp on pink hibiscus flower



This pink flowered bush is on the

border of an alley which we walk

all the time between my apartment

and the St. Mary’s playground.

The rain burst into tears

like a typical summer




Wasps are almost as

important as bees, in their

spreading pollen from

flower to flower.

x x x x x x x x

Flower with wasp
photo and thoughts
by Robin.

~ * ~

Cicada stole my heart



His one wing was nearly

half the size of the other.

He flew awkwardly from a

branch above me taking a

nosedive into the towel I was

sitting on, reading a book out

in the sunshine. His buzzing

seemed at a higher pitch or

somehow I sensed his handicap

from the way his piercingly high

“bzz…t-ph  bzz… t-fff!”

Cicadas have a hissing sound,

regular and consistent, like a

beat pulsing, like a saw buzzing.

As he moved around I noticed

his frog like neck. His bug eyes

watched me as his humming

simmered down to a quiet

pulsating sound. I whispered,

“Are you okay there, buddy?”

This will show up in many

following photographs with my

disjointed raw emotions

and not sure why,

but jagged edges of my mind.

Cicada, just how many minutes,

hours or possibly days do you

have left to your existence?

Do any of us really know

what time left we have?