This Warm Spring Night

This warm Spring night I walk alone. It calms the mind. Rain gently falls not quite soaking the walker but hhmmmmm, shall I say, dampening her. I look up and allow drops to softly wash this face. The scent of lilacs sweeten the aire. Overpowering at times but o so welcomed this night. Even under the black veil, the whites glistening causes one to stop and breathe in their perfume. A brief reprieve from a hectic day.

A Spring Pondering

The sun, she shines so brightly
Swaddling the earth with her warmth.

Daffies frilly smiles of yellow, crème, peach
Cause all to glance and smile.

Violets, sweet violets with soft purple petals
Spread their joy throughout the beds.

Scillias as blue as the sky
Now spent, preparing for next springs dance.

Bumblebees large as loonies,
Call on colourful blooms with their spring greeting.

Fiddleheads slowly unfurl,
Ferns lazily reach to the sun.

Forget-Me-Nots, the most cheerful
Replenish memories of those never forgotten.

Purest of white flowers surrounded in lovers arms,
This Bloodroot bleeds red when disturbed.

Waterbugs skidder on The Pond
Their helter skelter movements disturb the reflection

Twolips sway in the breeze
Their colour brings life to my world.

Yes! Spring has sprung !

Saturday morn

Early Saturday morn is the only time to grocery shop. I've tried the Sunday morn thing but the store was full of Churchers picking up something to prepare for "brunch". Geeeeeeez, there is breakie and lunch, for if I don't have me breakie, well ummmmm, need I say more.

I pull into the lot and eye MY space right beside the cart return and park leaving a 3' lane. Easier to steer the cart along side to unload. Me mum didn't raise no dummy after all.

The retired couple in their green SUV pull up. Not a white streak on it as most vehicles have this time of year unless you visit Charlies CarWash faithfully. The Mrs. sits with sales sheets in hand. Mr. minds the cat. Yes, the cat. In warmer weather he "allows" it out of the SUV mind you in a harness for a walkie. At one time the furball was placed in a grocery cart and shopped with them. Now it remains outside.

Arriving next is Blondie, screeching her Jeep into a spot. Me thinks she's in health care working the night shift. She wears "those" shoes you know. Ever anxious she stares at the metal curtains not yet drawn open.

Mr. Shred-It pulls in parking his van 2 rows down. He's not fooling anyone. His cart is always laden with the 3 basic food groups, sweets, carbs and meat. Though he is sporting nice new runners so maybe there is hope for him.

Smilie cruises in off the highway. An older gentleman, me thinks a farmer. His two toned blue Plymouth glides silently into the number two spot. We have always passed in the aisles smiling at each other. I do know he loves his garlic. Once when I was squeezing bulbs, he paused, winked and said "that's the right stuff!" with eyes sparkling. I missed him in the Winter but he has returned.

Hockey practice must be over as a parade of minivans driven by mums trying to be everything to everyone but themselves arrive. Have I ever mentioned Minivan Mums are the worstest drivers? They drive those huge and cumbersome machines usually with a cell phone calling home to hubbie to check the pantry saying "we need soup right?". I ponder, give hubbie the list and let him shop for a change while mum sleeps in.

Depending on the time of year and of course the weather, come the cottagers. O those poor things. Magine to spend the summer at a home on a lake, without a worry 'cept did I pick up enough Coolers? Awwwww. Heaven forbide it should be raining, then you have the parents AND the munchkins in tow filling up the cart with munchies of every sort. Arriving at the checkout the parents while unloading, say "huh, where did all this come from?" and the kids smirk with an aww shucks look. Life is tough for the water rats.

Of course I could not not mention the dads. Holding hands with the light of their lives, their daughters, they talk constantly about every wee thing. Meanwhile the son is left to lag behind with his mind on everything but the task at hand. "BRAD! pick up the pace ! We have to be home in an hour!" Poor lad, tis the last thing he want to do on a Saturday morn.

Well, the metal curtains have been withdrawn by kids who don't know which way is up, the weekly provisions are bought and loaded. I ease out of MY space just because of the lane cut thru's and you know who you are and leave for home. Whew, til next week.

P.S. I didn't even mention the bane of all adults, the ankle bumper carts ;)

Faces

Faces, we all have one. A scar from a long ago ooopsies with a shattered window tis on me chin. Never felt a thing til I held the mitt to me face and withdrawing saw red and the expression on sissiepoos face. Racing inside I looked for the gleaming toaster and sighed at the site reflected. I will never forget the tugging of the thread and piercing of the needle while the good Doctor sewed me up.

O those wrinkles, begone! I say but I know they be a sign of life, living well. So many ads whisper to our vanity, though the models of "firm skin" are all of 18 if that. Hah! What do they know of toiling outside in the heat and sun. They never will for the warnings were never known in our time.

The lines under me eyes when I smile show I laugh from the heart. They are smiling lines not wrinkles. Wrinkles are a sign of frowning not singing besides who wants to be remembered by their impressions unless you won Queen of The Furrow at the County Faire or heavens, to look like Cher. Beautiful she is but there is no expression. Her face is dead, frozen in time.

Tis my belief eyes tell all. Sit still and gaze into the eyes of your loved one. After awhile do they not cast downward shyly and re-open with a sparkle? Laughter soon follows, with a knowing uh hunh. Makes one feel giddy it does.

They say to touch ones face is the most gentlest touch of all. Feel every line imagining the stories behind them, gently feeling the past, and to feel today, the future.

We all have faces, those we put on smiling when we're really pissed off not wanting to hurt another, those we have when in pain not wanting others to know and feel sorry, those we show just waiting for someone to say "yah but".

Duck !!!

Mmmmm, was a lovely morn, sipping tea on the patio gazing out over the early Spring fleurs. The neighbourhood was silent as no one had begun to stir. Ever tuned into the avian arrivals this time of year I creaked me neck hearing this one particular call. Looking up I followed their descent and landing into the ole maple.

I rubbed these eyes hoping to loosen the sleep that sometimes remains and looked again. Yep, ducks, I had ducks in the maple tree. A gorgeous pair of Mallards. He of course was vibrant in his colours and she, well, was wearing a rather drab feather coat. Who ever said females are clothes horses certainly haven't eyed their fashion in the animal world. Ughhhh

I watched with wonderment this pair holding on for dear life. As most know ducks have webbed feets making it a tad difficult to land on anything non-flat let alone tree branches. They sat or should I say stood and pondered at their plight. Feeling I could make this a "Kodak" moment I slowly slide out of me throne. Too late, they saw me and flew the coop so to say. Damn! who is going to believe me !!!

Relating the event to a co-worker who is a bit of a naturalist his response was "ok, what were you smoking!" Ehhhh? "ducks don't land in trees ya know". Well, I was incensed! "Uh Hunh, they may not in your neck of the woods but at The Pond, well it has its moments" was me response.

I was a bit saddened when they flew off as the thought of raising a brood of ducklings, errrr, THEY raising a brood of ducklings at The Pond would have been such a treat. Maybe next year they will stay awhile longer. Though I will say, I ain't dressing in camoflauge for no one, man nor beastie.