She blew fierce this night
Mother Nature is cranky
The grande ole gal suffering from years of abuse
Now rages
Rain a deluge,
Froggies huddled under hostas seeking relief
Clouds rolling, dark and o so angry
Growling hard
Lightning lit the eve,
Silver sabres pierced the darkness
Combating with candle flickers
None win
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Me Thinks The Lady Doth Ponder Tooooo Much
Mmmmm, tis a beautiful morn at The Pond. Clear sky yet the sun is soft, cool breeze, chickadeedeedeedees family out and about, just a perfect morn. Three cups of tea and I'm ready to take on the day. Well, tea and sleeping for 6 hours uninterrupted! Woooo hooooooooo.
The froggies are active this morn. Frogue being the oldest shares his throne with a few of the wee ones who've made The Pond their home. The throne being a piece of black granite along one side. Seems to me they like sitting high, perhaps the better to survey their surroundings. The tiniest one, no bigger then a toonie seems to enjoy playing Hide N Seek and isn't quite sure of this human. I've named him Fred after an ole schoolmate who was always the smallest. So small he was often locked in the cupboard under the sink. I digress.....
The nightly Grand Prix has ceased. I'm sure it's due to the rather wet summer. They no longer need to find a cool damp place to spend the day. Like clock work as dusk fell I would hear plop plop plop on the step and would watch. Out of the planters they would hop and race to the water. Heaven forebid if anything stood in their way. Mind you they wouldn't hop around. Nope, bang right into a chair leg, branch and even a human leg. They are on a mission and there are no detours!
They can be amusing to watch. Sitting around The Pond always facing inward as if on the look out for the great pond shark. Geeeez guys, no freshwater sharks in these here parts. Their stance gives them away. Just before they leap, sitting straight up with necks stretched to the max as if a basketball player with eyes on the net. That's when they jump up. Jumping into the water is another position. Actually no position, they just do it. Think of yourself as a munchkin running and jumping off the dock into the lake. Were you concerned with form? Do I hear Cannonbaaallllll?
Weather forecasting has never been easier. At the very hint of rain, Frogue begins his bwarhhh bwarhhh bwarhhh. His baritone voice alerting the neighbourhood to take cover. Very rarely have I heard his companions join in. Maybe they are too small, maybe they are in awe at his voice, or maybe they just haven't received the music sheets. That is something I shall ponder ;)
The froggies are active this morn. Frogue being the oldest shares his throne with a few of the wee ones who've made The Pond their home. The throne being a piece of black granite along one side. Seems to me they like sitting high, perhaps the better to survey their surroundings. The tiniest one, no bigger then a toonie seems to enjoy playing Hide N Seek and isn't quite sure of this human. I've named him Fred after an ole schoolmate who was always the smallest. So small he was often locked in the cupboard under the sink. I digress.....
The nightly Grand Prix has ceased. I'm sure it's due to the rather wet summer. They no longer need to find a cool damp place to spend the day. Like clock work as dusk fell I would hear plop plop plop on the step and would watch. Out of the planters they would hop and race to the water. Heaven forebid if anything stood in their way. Mind you they wouldn't hop around. Nope, bang right into a chair leg, branch and even a human leg. They are on a mission and there are no detours!
They can be amusing to watch. Sitting around The Pond always facing inward as if on the look out for the great pond shark. Geeeez guys, no freshwater sharks in these here parts. Their stance gives them away. Just before they leap, sitting straight up with necks stretched to the max as if a basketball player with eyes on the net. That's when they jump up. Jumping into the water is another position. Actually no position, they just do it. Think of yourself as a munchkin running and jumping off the dock into the lake. Were you concerned with form? Do I hear Cannonbaaallllll?
Weather forecasting has never been easier. At the very hint of rain, Frogue begins his bwarhhh bwarhhh bwarhhh. His baritone voice alerting the neighbourhood to take cover. Very rarely have I heard his companions join in. Maybe they are too small, maybe they are in awe at his voice, or maybe they just haven't received the music sheets. That is something I shall ponder ;)
Friday, July 25, 2008
LOLZ
I just have to share a website. This is one I've tuned if that is the "net" word on a regular basis. I laugh, giggle, snort, and snicker. Now to enjoy the site one must read out loud, yes I say read out loud the verbage. No matter if you are alone. http://ihasahotdog.com/ with family or friends. Pronounciation, heheheehe, is that all that matters :D Be sure to review the various lolz along the top of the page. Enjoy !
Welcome Back Beacons In The Night
Thunderous skies with rolling grey clouds, rain shattering the pane of eve and I sat watching. Suddenly a wee light. These eyes focused not on the beacon but the surroundings. Again! the light. Ahhhhhh, I've been seeking you this sultry summer.
I smile so, to watch the dance of Fireflies. Memories of long ago as munchkins, seeking these magical creatures, following thru neighbours yards, over hedges, fences, seeking the magicians of the night.
Years ago I drove a long country road on a similiar sultry eve. The road was built up with ditches along each side. O my! I was transfixed that eve with thousands of natures beacons lighting me way. Picture yourself flying low over a city with every light on in every building. That is the vision.
Me heart sings watching their beacons in the night. Eyes riveted to their last location. Up, up, up, thru the trees they soar leaving earth, leaving their glimour with us. Twas a magical night.
I smile so, to watch the dance of Fireflies. Memories of long ago as munchkins, seeking these magical creatures, following thru neighbours yards, over hedges, fences, seeking the magicians of the night.
Years ago I drove a long country road on a similiar sultry eve. The road was built up with ditches along each side. O my! I was transfixed that eve with thousands of natures beacons lighting me way. Picture yourself flying low over a city with every light on in every building. That is the vision.
Me heart sings watching their beacons in the night. Eyes riveted to their last location. Up, up, up, thru the trees they soar leaving earth, leaving their glimour with us. Twas a magical night.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Thru the Mist
Thru the mist I walked alone
Icy tendrils brushed past
searching for warmth
There is none this morn
Nocturnal creatures flying home
before dawns light
Swoosh about one in their land
Footsteps heard by no one
follow a well worn path
Down streets vacant of life
Full Thunder Moon
provides a beacon to the traveler
Thru the mist walking alone
Icy tendrils brushed past
searching for warmth
There is none this morn
Nocturnal creatures flying home
before dawns light
Swoosh about one in their land
Footsteps heard by no one
follow a well worn path
Down streets vacant of life
Full Thunder Moon
provides a beacon to the traveler
Thru the mist walking alone
Thursday, July 17, 2008
To Mow or Not Mow, That is The Question.....
Actually not wanting to become one of "those" I choose too just in case the neighbours rallied against the field in an urban setting. Time and weather prevented me from giving it a good cut, that and having me lawn boy desert me :(.
The morn was clean and dry. Sun shining and birds singing their song. Little did they know I was soon to disrupt their chorus. Two machines I hate to hear are lawn mowers and the worstest, chain saws. Tis just the noise slashing the silence of a lovely day I abhor.
On to the mission. Borrowing a suped up mower, this is where I insert the arh arh arh most men speak of, I begin. Now the lawn is a tad large with more then usual the number of beds and trees which must be mowed around. This is definitely not a clean cut.
A must do is to walk the property. Branches are picked up, froggies are gently shifted to the safety of the beds and any small creatures, specifically bunnies are encouraged to find a new home toot le suite !
I start off with mower moving a third of along due to the ummm, height of the grass. That didn't last long. A pull of the string thingie and off it starts, again. Another attempt this time at a quarter. Yet another pull of the string thingie and I ponder as the mower decides to rest as this is just not the time.
Hhmmmmmmm, I have a job to do and by the haysus I'm going to do it! Sooooo, after a flashback to drafting class I thought AHA! Pulled that string thingie once again and this time raised the front to a 45 degree angle and moved 6 feet, set it down and pulled back 6 feet. Ooooooooooo, this just may work !
Mind you pulling on a 5 foot long string thingie with a 2 foot long arm doesn't exactly make you want to play a round of badminton afterwards. Get me drift. Just mowing the front and side took almost 2 hours. Up, walk, down, walk backwards which reminded me of a dance. Was it the cha cha cha?
The older gentlemen of the neighbourhood had a hoot watching. These men with no other tasks to do but watch this woman struggle with the string thingie, almost on her knees pushing the mower under tree boughs, untaggling the caught hair, all the while oooooooommmming. Yep they had a good day.
After the task was done, the prunners were oiled and a few trees trimmed. I'm still waiting for the men to ask " why didn't ya cut those limbs before ya started ".
The morn was clean and dry. Sun shining and birds singing their song. Little did they know I was soon to disrupt their chorus. Two machines I hate to hear are lawn mowers and the worstest, chain saws. Tis just the noise slashing the silence of a lovely day I abhor.
On to the mission. Borrowing a suped up mower, this is where I insert the arh arh arh most men speak of, I begin. Now the lawn is a tad large with more then usual the number of beds and trees which must be mowed around. This is definitely not a clean cut.
A must do is to walk the property. Branches are picked up, froggies are gently shifted to the safety of the beds and any small creatures, specifically bunnies are encouraged to find a new home toot le suite !
I start off with mower moving a third of along due to the ummm, height of the grass. That didn't last long. A pull of the string thingie and off it starts, again. Another attempt this time at a quarter. Yet another pull of the string thingie and I ponder as the mower decides to rest as this is just not the time.
Hhmmmmmmm, I have a job to do and by the haysus I'm going to do it! Sooooo, after a flashback to drafting class I thought AHA! Pulled that string thingie once again and this time raised the front to a 45 degree angle and moved 6 feet, set it down and pulled back 6 feet. Ooooooooooo, this just may work !
Mind you pulling on a 5 foot long string thingie with a 2 foot long arm doesn't exactly make you want to play a round of badminton afterwards. Get me drift. Just mowing the front and side took almost 2 hours. Up, walk, down, walk backwards which reminded me of a dance. Was it the cha cha cha?
The older gentlemen of the neighbourhood had a hoot watching. These men with no other tasks to do but watch this woman struggle with the string thingie, almost on her knees pushing the mower under tree boughs, untaggling the caught hair, all the while oooooooommmming. Yep they had a good day.
After the task was done, the prunners were oiled and a few trees trimmed. I'm still waiting for the men to ask " why didn't ya cut those limbs before ya started ".
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Twinkle Twinkle Little Star
Shuffling thru the bookshelves I came across an ole fave.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark!
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
1806 by Jane Taylor
Did you know there were so many verses...
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are!
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.
When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.
Then the traveler in the dark,
Thanks you for your tiny spark!
He could not see which way to go,
If you did not twinkle so.
In the dark blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.
As your bright and tiny spark
Lights the traveler in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star.
1806 by Jane Taylor
Did you know there were so many verses...
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Ode to Oliver
1:32 a.m. the clock shows. I wake to a haunting melody drifting into my room. The sound of a sweet violin plays in the distance. I lie smiling, seeing him thru closed eyes standing alone in an abandoned monastery for the echoes sing, swaying as he plays so gleefully. My mind says hush, return to sleep for it is much to early to wake but I can not. I listen to my heart and savour this moment.
3:00 a.m. and still Monday, the worst day. I have remained awake listening for the violin to return. Alas the classics prevail. This just won’t do. Best to get up and at em. Log on to Radio Canada searching for their play list. The connection is slow this morn. Hhmmm, who in heavens name would be on-line at this hour? Giggling to myself, o yeah I wonder who.
5:00 a.m. Ahhh, an early start of another work week. This is better for my employer has high speed. The wave of the Internet provides smooth surfing. But still can’t find the play list.
10:00 a.m. Finally a break. Phone the 1-800 number and ask for ze French CBC. I explain my predicament to the woman. “Une momente, si’l vous plait” and I hear her footsteps cross the room. “Ello, madam, at 1:30 a.m. Oliver Schroer’s Camino played. Does dat elp ayou?” O my fine woman thank you so very much and have a wonderful day !
10:30 a.m. A quick Google (doesn’t everyone) of Oliver Schroer and up pops his website. Aha! There it is. Click, Add To Cart.
Ten minutes later confirmation received.
8:35 p.m. Tuesday, antsy I e-mail the website asking when o when will I be able to listen to his melodious violin again.
10:30 a.m. Wednesday, delivered into my anxious hands. I now rest easy.
A few months later I was privileged to attend his concert and shake his hand. A few months later he was diagnosed.
Oliver has left us. His message....."Don't look at what you don't have. Make sure your glass is half full, not half empty. This is a stance you take in life. It is not a random attitude. But with just a little bit of practice, that becomes an attitude you can easily stick to. Lets put it this way. If I can think like this in my present position, I would hope that you all can do the same. I would even ask you to do this for me. Take that stance in life for me and from me, and concentrate always on the positive."
Thank you Ministrel your music sings forever in me heart.
3:00 a.m. and still Monday, the worst day. I have remained awake listening for the violin to return. Alas the classics prevail. This just won’t do. Best to get up and at em. Log on to Radio Canada searching for their play list. The connection is slow this morn. Hhmmm, who in heavens name would be on-line at this hour? Giggling to myself, o yeah I wonder who.
5:00 a.m. Ahhh, an early start of another work week. This is better for my employer has high speed. The wave of the Internet provides smooth surfing. But still can’t find the play list.
10:00 a.m. Finally a break. Phone the 1-800 number and ask for ze French CBC. I explain my predicament to the woman. “Une momente, si’l vous plait” and I hear her footsteps cross the room. “Ello, madam, at 1:30 a.m. Oliver Schroer’s Camino played. Does dat elp ayou?” O my fine woman thank you so very much and have a wonderful day !
10:30 a.m. A quick Google (doesn’t everyone) of Oliver Schroer and up pops his website. Aha! There it is. Click, Add To Cart.
Ten minutes later confirmation received.
8:35 p.m. Tuesday, antsy I e-mail the website asking when o when will I be able to listen to his melodious violin again.
10:30 a.m. Wednesday, delivered into my anxious hands. I now rest easy.
A few months later I was privileged to attend his concert and shake his hand. A few months later he was diagnosed.
Oliver has left us. His message....."Don't look at what you don't have. Make sure your glass is half full, not half empty. This is a stance you take in life. It is not a random attitude. But with just a little bit of practice, that becomes an attitude you can easily stick to. Lets put it this way. If I can think like this in my present position, I would hope that you all can do the same. I would even ask you to do this for me. Take that stance in life for me and from me, and concentrate always on the positive."
Thank you Ministrel your music sings forever in me heart.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
Arrrghhhh
I saw an advert today for Burberry shoes. Good heavens! High heels and socks ??? Folks this is just so wrong. HeHe's are meant to be worn barelegged or for those in the northern climate, a lovely taupe unless it's a funeral then basic black is de rigeur.
What is the point of wearing socks in high heels? I ask any man and woman. Though I prefer bare feets I would never ever never wear socks. Tis just so wrong !
Wrong as in wearing socks in sandals. That is one of the 20 sins. Why o why I asked a friend. Mind you Orm is an ole hippie and will be forever but his reply was thus.........Well wearing socks in sandals keeps the feet clean. EH???
Isn't that the point of sandals, to wiggle yer toes in the dirt and the air? Let those tootsies be free ! Wiggle to their hearts content, squish the mud underneath, dance til the blisters appear.
Arrrghhhh, a work day is near so I dream of shoving me toes into the shoes and toddling off...
What is the point of wearing socks in high heels? I ask any man and woman. Though I prefer bare feets I would never ever never wear socks. Tis just so wrong !
Wrong as in wearing socks in sandals. That is one of the 20 sins. Why o why I asked a friend. Mind you Orm is an ole hippie and will be forever but his reply was thus.........Well wearing socks in sandals keeps the feet clean. EH???
Isn't that the point of sandals, to wiggle yer toes in the dirt and the air? Let those tootsies be free ! Wiggle to their hearts content, squish the mud underneath, dance til the blisters appear.
Arrrghhhh, a work day is near so I dream of shoving me toes into the shoes and toddling off...
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Those weren't raindrops falling.............
The perfect summer eve drew me outside to sit and ponder. Relaxing in MY chair with a fine JP I heard a smack. I glanced around and saw nothing. Certainly not out of the ordinary at The Pond to hear something without a cause.
Nestling in, drifting off, there it was again only this time it hit one of the other chairs. I leaned over and saw this widdle nut. Smack ! smack ! OUUUUUCHIEEEEE. This time smack on me head.
Looking up I came face to face with one of those black furry creatures. He was sitting in the Walnut tree which overhangs the patio. The bugger. Having a wee of a feast he was.
The young nuts were being stripped bare by this bloody squirrel. Those he couldn't stuff into his cheeks came smacking down to the unsuspecting below. Fine I said, eat all you want.
Little does he know that unripened fruit leads to ummmm how shall I say quick trips. Then again do squirrels really shite in the woods? Hhhhmmmmmmmm
Nestling in, drifting off, there it was again only this time it hit one of the other chairs. I leaned over and saw this widdle nut. Smack ! smack ! OUUUUUCHIEEEEE. This time smack on me head.
Looking up I came face to face with one of those black furry creatures. He was sitting in the Walnut tree which overhangs the patio. The bugger. Having a wee of a feast he was.
The young nuts were being stripped bare by this bloody squirrel. Those he couldn't stuff into his cheeks came smacking down to the unsuspecting below. Fine I said, eat all you want.
Little does he know that unripened fruit leads to ummmm how shall I say quick trips. Then again do squirrels really shite in the woods? Hhhhmmmmmmmm
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