Joy to One & All

From my place in this world to yours, I wish you happiness, health, peace & love,

Cheryl

Winter Sunrise

Such a view I have from the office window. From the second floor I see the river which meanders thru my town. The view is exceptional in the early morn. Facing east I watch the sun yawn and stretch her self awake to shine upon us.

Winter morns are special. By 7 I’m in and already gazing out, wondering what colours she will don. The days of late with frigid temperatures she wears her pastels and I’m not disappointed with her choice.

Peach coloured sky as a backdrop to the grey whisps of chimney smoke foretells the coldness of the day. Her reflection on the river now covered in thin clear ice bounces off the shoreline overgrown with frost kissed trees.

As she warms she shines brighter painting the sky in a vivid blue. Those chimney smokes turn to white and soon become non existent for the viewer. Trees fade into the distance, bare branches standing on guard doing their best to ward off the offending cold.

And I return to the work at hand satisfied I’ve watched my world wake to a new day…

The Reveal

This blogging world amazes me. In me realm there are artists, writers, gardeners, ponderers, all such wonderful folk. I was asked to contribute a few words to The Artist Challenge for The Reveal Challenge. The following is me pondering :)

The Reveal

The ancient oak stood strong
centred in the grove of saplings
her young, from her acorns
once seeds of a union so intense
it is still whispered on the wind.

Weathered bark peeled away
with each years passing leaving
her body, her mighty limbs
torn twigs, shredded leaves falling
before the season said change

Axes struck sharp and hard
shattering the forest calm while
creatures paused in silent reverence
as The Green Man gathered acorns
revealing their secret for eternal life

Come sit with me at The Pond today

Come sit with me at The Pond today
I’ll tell you tales of ole
of a simpler time when we were young
where our future was foretold.

Come sit with me at The Pond today
watching the clouds float by
chosing shapes and patterns
known only by us with our own eyes

Come sit with me at The Pond today
imagining armada’s setting out to sea
while leaves float over the water
as our minds set sail at ease.

Come sit with me at The Pond today
soaking in the warmth of suns rays
though Winter will be soon upon us
we know there will be better days.

Come sit with me at The Pond today
following ladybugs and dragonflies
flitting about in their last hurrah
ss they seek shelter while waving goodbye.

Come sit with me at The Pond today
Come sit with me at The Pond…

Halloween Haiboo's

Blood torn, hacked fingers
mandolin trashed
chunky cheese will do

Spirits rise in darkness
never seeing tall trees
souls spatter the ground

Halloween kisses
temporary sweetness
on a blackened tongue

Shrieks from the outhouse
goblins scurry laughing
pinecones replaced newspaper

Bats, spiders, rats
smoke rises, nostrils twitch
Igor cooks tonight

Tombstones creak and moan
bonie fingers grasp air
bassist needed in the graveyard

Creatures hide in shadows
larger then life
til dawns' illumination

A Cold Evil Makes Its Way

Day quickly hides,
as night wakes early
enveloping the earth
under a cloak of blackness
warning us of the onslaught.

Trees quake and shiver,
their armour shed
leaving spear like branches
to fend off the intruder
as its warriors draw near.

Sun loses her brilliance,
subtly drawing a veil
over her rays to protect herself
while withdrawing south
no longer having a battles strength .

Leaves coiled in deaths grasp,
once vibrant colours
faded become shattered
skeletons of their former life
left to seep into the earth.

Brilliant flora now broken,
and bitter from the lick
of a frozen tongue
crumbles into dust
leaving outlines on the ground.

Indentations in the grass,
hardened icy steps
prove its existence
marching to the field
where warmth and cold battle.

Something wicked this way comes,
we become a frozen landscape
while nature locked in such forlornness
leaves one to seek refuge
til natures strength is renewed.

I wrote this for the Something Wicked This Way Comes challenge at The Inferno. Do pop on over to read ponderings from a wonderful group of writers. And if me coding is up to scratch you can click The Inferno and poof away ye go.

Darkness becomes her

Darkness becomes her
as its cloak wraps securely
spirits need their time
having fought during summer
against the sun.

Silent tears
wiped away by raindrops
on bare face
brings warmth to the lost soul
stumbling about this earth.

Thunder shudders the night
yet not her thoughts
she is at home with nature
the one true
in her life.

Lights should be extinguished
solace of the bed be found
but there are footsteps
in her soul
needing a path.

Will light bring answers
she thinks not
no one but her will answer
the questions
not dared to ask.

Looking out my office window...

Soft sun wakes and yawns
Stars fade wrapping into sleeps cloak
Tendrils of mist languidly rise off the river
Dogs walk their owners in shadow
Scarlet Sumac shines against green of bush
Frogs seek solace in the river bank dirt
Maples rimmed with gold shimmers
Beaver slaps warning to early joggers
Pampas Grass sways along the tow path
Crows gather in the Elms
Virginia Creeper creeps around poles
Reeds shake in the rivers current
Juncos breakfast in cups of Wild Dill
Pale green Cucumber Vines smothers Buckthorn
Deer silently steps in dew kissed grass

Then the phone rings…

An Infernal Pondering

I'm become a member of The Inferno. A fabulous group of ponderers, ummm writers. The first Dare was Curiousity Killed The Cat. Wellllllllllll, I couldn't resist knowing I had too many thoughts bouncing around in me head I needed to find that discipline I had before Spring arrived. This is my submission and I must admit I had fun. For some reason it flowed. Maybe I spent way too much time pondering this Summer ;) One of these days I will learn to code "the mousie over, click once and poof you're there" thingie so for now hop on over to The Inferno by looking over there -------> then scrolling down. Aye, it be a fine crew of wordlubbers.


I Pondered Too Long

Enh Enh Enh, shrieked the alarm clock shattering the calmness of the dark. Shit, did I set it last night? I’ve always woken up 6 minutes before the 4:26 am time anyways so why did I bother. I’ll be cranky all day now.

Rolling onto my back I felt a lump near me arse. Must be the pillows I bunched around me when I fell into bed I figured. That or it’s time to buy a new mattress as this one is rather worn and bumpy.

As I lay there my mind kept repeating snippets of the night. What in heavens name did I eat before bed time to have such thoughts. You have some imagination woman I thought so best to get up and be at it.

I groped for the lamp switch, heard the familiar click then nothing. Maybe one more click. Nope. Darkness remained. O well, I know this house like the back of my hand and have wandered about more times in the dark then I can count.

Tossing off the blankets I suddenly felt very chilly, almost clammy. Odd this time of year I thought, usually I’d be warm after being burrowed all night. I must have been really warm because my t-shirt was no where to be found.

Sitting up I felt a twinge in my back, which lessened once my legs swung out and over the edge. Standing up straight was not gonna happen. I was bent over from my knees right up thru to my shoulders. Crap! What is wrong with me this morning?

Well I can’t walk properly so might as well hop to the bathroom. Hop? Hop? Where the hell did that come from! I haven’t hopped since playing hopscotch as a wee one and I’m certainly not going to start again at this age.

Sliding my feet across the floor I noticed I had secure footings. Rather strange this, because my feet are always bare and I can grab dimes with me toes but not now. Perhaps because of the darkness I keep toes together, not wanting to wrap the babies around a chair leg. Yes that makes sense.

Feeling along the wall I found the light switch. A quick flip, and nothing. Up and down, up and down I flicked it and still no illumination to wake me. Good lord, that’s two for two. Did I change both bulbs months ago at the same time?

I reached the bathroom sink and grasped the taps. Hhmmmm, I can feel my fingertips touching each other. Having small hands and large taps I know this isn’t right but I need water and I need it bad.

I’m itching. I never itch, being blessed with good skin but now it feels dry, smooth, yet dry. Reaching the tub I grabbed the taps and twist opening them fully. The sound of running water relaxes me as if all was well. But it isn’t!

God my legs are heavy, my back aches so. Being hunched over, all I can do is sit on the rim and slide into the soothing water. This feels good as I slip under allowing myself to be completely submerged. Why do I feel the need to turn over bottom up?

My head pops up and I float, buoyant as a cork. The tub isn’t that deep. Yet I bob with feet and hands moving back and forth as if I were treading water. I’m confused as more snippets playback.

I turn over but can’t sit up, damn it! Is my back locked? All I can manage is floating on my side with knees drawn up. Why do I fit so easily in the tub, where normally all I could do was sit, and stretching was out of the question.

Rolling back I can easily pull my legs underneath me and sit up on haunches. O that feels so much better. But damn what a position to be in. Should I get out, that is if I can? There are so many thoughts in my head.

My stomach speaks hunger. Eyes shift to a fly on the window sill. I wonder what it tastes like? Would its wings stick in my teeth? The only bugs I’ve eaten were those wandering into an open sleeping mouth. My tongue flicks.

Concentrate woman I shout to no one but me. What were you doing last night? Reading, yes I read that book bought at the local second hand bookshop. Page worn, weather torn tome of an ancient craft. O shit!

Late summers eve, yes I remember sitting out by The Pond, reading by candlelight. While watching the creatures swim about. Did I say it? Out loud? I suddenly want to sink.

Slowly the sun rises softly lighting the house. Opening my eyes, I glance at my hands. I am freckled but this? These? I rub my eyes but eyelashes are non existent. Where’s my hair!!!!! My golden locks!!!!! There is nothing left.

I turn around towards the taps. I’ve always used them as a mirror, somewhat tarnished but reliable chrome. Staring back at me was not me. It was a creature I’ve come to know quite well all these summers. NOOOOOO, it can’t be. I can’t be!

An ole familiar song floats thru the open window. I hear you singing our song. O god I even understand the words. But how can I, my ears are mere bumps! Still, I must follow the notes.

My legs spring me up onto the sill, then over and out, tumbling into the planter. Looking up, way up, I see the tome lying open on the table. Nearby, a goblet drained of the nectar from the gods. Or was the nectar from him?

I see him, sitting on his throne of granite. He watches and waits but is it for me? I’m human aren’t I? Well, aren’t I? Why does a frog excite me so, this one above all. I must be losing my mind!!!

I pondered for what seemed an eternity, but the decision had been foretold in the tome. Hopping over to Frogue, I knew, he knew, this was right. This was destiny. And as Miss Martha says “ this is a good thing “.

The Pond

In honour of 100 postings, wowzers I sure didn't know I could ponder that much, well okies, I fib, I thought it would be fitting The Pond be recognized. Seems I've taken more photos of the creatures who live there then the actual site, hhmmmm. I'll have to ponder on that. Cheryl :)

I shoulda

I shoulda dusted & vacuumed today
instead I held the door open for the dust bunnies escape.

I shoulda brought pallet and paints to the patio
instead I painted me toenails.

I shoulda listened to music today
instead I heard the summers breeze blowing thru the trees.

I shoulda weeded & deadheaded the beds
instead I wondered at their growth and colour.

I shoulda mowed the grass today
instead I moussed and curled me hair.

I shoulda fed the flowering baskets
instead I delighted with Chickadeedeedees feeding their young uns.

I shoulda emailed friends today
instead I turned the pooter off and wrote.

I shoulda swept the patio
instead I tossed fallen petals into The Pond.

I shoulda called me love today
instead I let him be knowing he too enjoyed the warmth and sun.

I shoulda scrubbed the bathroom
instead I laughed at the frogs playing in their own.

I shoulda done the laundry today
instead I watched a squirrel sleep on the clothesline tree.

I shoulda cut a bouquet from the garden
instead I bought carnations of yellow, gold and red.

I shoulda, shoulda and shoulda today
instead I was just with me……….

Lights of The Night

The brush of darkness
paints shadows in the garden.

Stars not seen in weeks
remain hidden amongst clouds.

Needing reassurance this night
these eyes search for a sign.

A spark high in the maple tree
draws me eyes upwards.

Smiling I glance about
High, low, to the left, to the right.

There you are Light of the Night
I found you, faith now restored.

Fond childhood memories of hot summer nights following these wee creatures flood me mind. Over fences, thru hedges, never knowing where next they would sparkle and always amazed when their wee bums would light up just for us. “Find me, if you can” they signaled and we did for hours. To this day I search for them and when I see that sparkle I rest assured knowing other munchkins are playing Hide and Seek with the Lights of the Night.

Soggy Bottom

Suppose to be Summer with sunshine and heat but Mother Nature changed her mind. Every day I catch meself singing, “rain, rain, go away, come again another day”. Though the landscape is lush, gardens are suffering. Begonias molding, Lantanas fading, Maples rotting and aphids thrive. Ugggghhh.

As I puttered about in the garden between showers I spotted o so familiar footie prints in the damp soil. Tracking them thru wavering ferns, around large leafed hostas, I finally found their owner. He was curled up on a bed of moss, soft and plump from the rain sheltered under the ole Lilac.

Not wanting to disturb him I stepped back and huddled in amongst the Princes Feather. I sat what seemed like an eternity and waited watching his chest rising and falling with every breath. The poor wee soul was tired. His trousers worn, shirt was torn as if he had run for his life thru a raspberry patch. Scratches on his arms and face showed he did his best defending himself from whatever the hunter was. But now he was safe and I believed he knew it.

I became occupied swatting at skidders. Those blood sucking monsters that thrive in this climate even though I remind the froggies daily it is their duty to invite them to supper. Note to self: follow up with a memo. Me eyes may be failing but these ears will never and they perked as a faint ummmm reached them.

Glancing around to focus on the wee creature I smiled. He was stretching and sitting straight up, his eyes soaking in the surroundings.

“Well hello there” I softly spoke.

He blinked, his weathered face furrowing deeper.

“Tis ok, you’re safe here, there’s no need to worry”

Still looking about he mumbled something I’m not quite sure of but I did understand the affection. He was confused, scared and abit out of sorts. His eyes darted from me to the trees, back to me and then to the garden growth.

“Hmmmm, you haven’t a name we both understand but I shall call you Soggy Bottom. You’ve been lying on the damp moss long enough you’re quite soaked thru and needless to say your bottom is rather soggy.”

Did he agree ? That I don’t know for as soon as the words were out of me mouth he was up, and running. Droplets flying from his clothes as he scurried thru the Monarda, grabbing onto the Honeysuckle vine and up and over the fence.

I sighed but after a wee bit of pondering it grew into a smile. Soggy Bottom will return and he will meet Twinkle Bottom who no doubt will show him how to sparkle. After all two bottoms are better then none :)

Following you, following me

Following you, following me
thru long grass we run
leaving down trodden paths
so we may never lose each other

Following me, following you
hearts beating as one
as our lives intertwine
with each other

Following you, following me
your sky, my sky
azure blue et brilliant sun
warming each other

Following me, following you
darkness twinkles her lights
illuminating our sky
shining on each other

Following you, following me
forever and a day
there is peace within our souls
knowing we are each other

Ode To A Rusty Screw

I neglected you over the years,
yes, I shamefully admit it
and express sadness over doing so.

You held fast, damn fast,
never wavering or weakening,
always holding strong during storms.

However, you must understand
there comes a time in a relationship
when one partner must let go.

Twas so hard but a decision
I had to make after all these years
and your time had come.

Why do you make this so difficult
fighting me with every twist,
with every turn this heart beats faster.

My arms ache from the strain
wrists are swollen, veins popping
as I ponder where is Tai Bo when I need him.

Must I enlist one known as WD40
for you resist my gentleness
which mean you no harm.

I vow you will never be tossed aside
your place of honour is waiting
safe from the elements.

Relax, rest your battle is over
O Rusty Screw, tis time
to retire a tad rusty but ever so trusty.

Why? This is why....

Why do I do it, year after year, I’m asked. I could flippantly say why not? But the answer grows deeper. It is in me blood, me name, under my fingernails. Seen in weathered laugh lines, freckles, scars. Heard in me crackling knees, the “o shites” , argghhhhs and sighs. Felt in this body seizing after a good days toil, heart felt thank you’s, and life nutured.

The “it” is gardening. I became one with the earth many moons ago mostly at me fathers side. Allowing me to turn up a perfect lawn and create carpets of colour. I’ve gardened with a fine ole English gentleman even though he was a tad anal making me use a ruler to plant his Marigolds. Each plant 8.5” apart, not 8 or 9 but exactly 8.5” I humoured him as his wife made the best homemade lemonade I’ve ever tasted. Thank you Mr. Stephenson. I gardened with a mad Irish Doctor, hell bent on testing me every time. Staking peas with branches, under planting corn with squash, not tests but lessons and well learned. The worst was hauling loads of wood thru the bull pasture, not in the contract but as stubborn as he was, I am more. Slainte Doc. More importantly, I learned from a grand ole gal Winnie. O she would shudder hearing her referred to as a gal. A proper English woman she thought she was but born here she wasn’t. I learned so much. The most bountiful Asparagus beds held the secret of salt and Iceland poppies. Who knew ?

I have bookcases of gardening books mostly purchased for the pictures. Hey I’m a visual person ! I can look at one and figure it out, no instructions needed just trial and error. That’s why I do “it”. There is something in me that enjoys a challenge. If I ponder deeply it is not so much as a challenge but more so tickling life from nothing. Much like an artist takes a blank canvas and with a few brushes and paint pots creates a master piece, I take a warm patch of earth and with a few seeds create me own.

This is me masterpiece. :)

Earth Day

Thru the mist I walk on grass covered in dew.
I see you peaking thru the trees unsure if you should rise.
You are welcomed Soleil even in your morning gown.
Shine upon us, shine upon this Earth.

O gentle rain

O gentle rain
soak my earth,
allow my roots
to drink of thee
growing plump and strong.

O gentle rain
soak my leaves,
wash off Winter
to unleash these leaves
binding my strength.

O gentle rain
soak my buds,
aid my vibrancy
to enlighten the landscape
bringing life where there is none.

O gentle rain
soak myself,
rid me of silence
to breathe the air
refreshing these stale lungs.

Pittie pat, pittie pat

You’re here !
I welcome you with heart a flutter
Pittie pat, pittie pat, o bringer of life

I hear birds rejoice
on the morn walkies
Pittie pat, pittie pat, the song of life

I feel earth warming
uncovering new growth
Pittie pat, pittie pat, nurturing life

I see wonderous colours
as the sun rises
Pittie pat, pittie pat, reflecting life

I smell freshness
while gentle rains bathe me
Pittie pat, pittie pat, renewed life

I touch our beings
welcoming you once again
Pittie pat, pittie pat, as we spring to life

Twinkle Bottom

Tis the season when the wee folk run rampart springing to life after spending the winter sleeping in the hollows. This is a tale about one particular wee folk… Twinkle Bottom.

Winter had been long and harsh. Snow was thigh deep in the highlands. Yet it was a soft snow meaning as you took a step you would sink soundly. Not even snowshoes would save you from wrecked knees, splintered ankles.

March arrived with warm temperatures, sunny skies and fresh aire. Avian creatures soared in with Spring riding opon their wings. Robins brought the song, sparrows the helter skelter, doves renewed lust and Canadian Geese traveling from the southern climes spread its warmth. Ahhhh, life renewed.

As I raked I noticed a trail unlike the voles. It wasn’t under the snow but on top, tiny foot prints scurrying from tree to tree. Hhmmmm, this must be one light creature I pondered as there are only two feet not the usual four. I saw the footie prints mostly around the maples where nectar is flowing, sweetly and slowly. Aha! the mission is on.

Night falls slower now yet settles darker. There is no white shite to brighten the garden. Shadows are slim due to bare branches creating a perfect backdrop for spying on the wee folk. I sit silently under the waning full moon waiting for a sign and I was not disappointed.

A quick flash out of the darkness draws me eyes to the right. Spark! Spark! Spark! O what is that I wonder as these eyes focus. There it is ! The tiniest of creatures wearing, cardinal feather leggings not unlike red Stanfield long johns; a jacket created from moss, perfect, soft and warm; the cap of an acorn keeping his wee tete warm; and a scarf of artemisia so worn but wrapped snugly.

But wait, I see the spark again. What in heavens name is this? With every step he takes, sparks emit. Soft sparks, but more like twinkling from wee Christmas lights blinking on and off to no rhythm but their own. He dances from tree to tree hearing his own silent tune and lights up the night. I sit and watch taking great delight as this wondrous scene of twinkles emits with his every step. The garden is alive this night, with wee Twinkle Bottom.

Vhich Vay Did They Vo

Once again on a rainy day I wrangled a vole from the home. This time it was Victoria. Just had to be. Autumn past I wrote about Vinnie and his short stay here so I pondered, as I do time to time, Victoria was his mate. Truth be known, while I slid her into the bowl I’m sure I heard her squeak, “innie, innie” and being voles they can’t pronounce the V letter so it made perfect sense to me.

Off we went to the ole creek where she was set free as was Vinnie. She dove into the snow so quickly after picking up his scent that I wouldn’t want to be him when they met up. The tale of “sorry dearest, just slipped out for a few grains and lost me way” wouldn’t hold water with me.

After returning I went out for a walk about and low and behold, I found those two had been busy! The garden above looked like a subway. Tunnels here leading there, leading to back over here and away over there. I stood in awe at their engineering talents. Thru ice and snow, but zigging around rocks, there wasn’t a Stop sign in site.

Though I sigh when I see a critter scurry across the floor, I now have new respect for them. Makes me ponder, if transportation engineers should investigate how these wee creatures do it on time and under budget. So too Innie and Ictoria, long may you live, but just not in my backyard. And I shall always remember a vole in a bowl, is better then a mouse in a house. :)

The Blue Babe

Tis that time of year when we focus on the sweetness to come. I be talking of maple slurp season! There is nothing finer then spending the day out in the sunshine, working ones butt off hauling buckets, chopping wood, feeding the furnace and savouring the aroma of boiling sap. Mmmmmmmm, heaven tis is. You are surrounded by that heavenly scent.

A dear friend, Don, built his own sugar shack out of hand hewn logs way out in the back forty. To arrive, you had to walk thru pastures, dodging the horses, appeasing the rotties and make friends with the wondering eyed mini sheltie. I was more unease with the sheltie as you never knew what direction he was going in. Teddie was cute but that un-neutered male had a thang for parkas, I digress…

Well the perfect day began. I arrived Sorels tightly tied over those grey wool socks with the white and red stripes, red Stanfields, jeans, sweater, mitts, scarf and da parka. Can’t be too over dressed ya know. Bro was there feeding the fire and Don was preparing for the gathering. A sugar shack is not a one person operation, far from it. Two bodies are minimum, but as in any undertaking, the more the merrier.

While the furnace roared it was decided we needed the main ingredient, sap! Bro stayed to prepare while Don and I took off to gather the liquid gold. Easy peasy it sounded until I was shown our transportation. The Blue Babe. Yep that be her in the photo. I asked Don if she was certified. I will not say what his response was, as munchkins may read this.

Pails were gathered, deep breathes were taken and off we went. Now Babe had no glass where normally glass would be in vehicle windows, the doors only worked from the outside and did I mention there were no such things as seat belts? She was bare bones to the floor and not even mice made a home in her. She was transportation and that’s all what was needed.

We roared thru the woods stopping every few trees and it was me job to jump out, grab a pail and visit each tap, pouring the elixir and toddling back thru knee deep snow to pour into the main tank. Once done, hop into Babe and off we would go to the next tapping. The ole legs got a work out that day.

Well, being Spring there is a thaw. What was once a kinda sorta trail soon becomes a quagmire of mud and snow. Yeeee hawwww, soon we found ourselves literally skidding thru, Babe at a 45 degree angle and me saying “come on girl, remember that choo choo, I think I can, I think I can”. She could and did !

O what a day it was. We finally made it back to the sugar shack after much laughter and hard work. The final product, Maple Syrup was deliciousio! Me only regret that day was I didn’t drive Babe. I was asked but spent most of the time laughing, getting caught climbing thru the window and just having way too much fun. Now that I ponder not knowing how to drive a stick wouldn’t have mattered either. :)

Motown Love Affair

Mmmm Motown, soulful music and heartfelt lyrics. I’ve had this in me head for sometime using only titles to describe a love affair. In celebration of 50 years since the birth of Motown……………


Them: Two Lovers, Under The Boardwalk
She: The Way You Do The Things You Do
He: Baby I Need Your Loving
She: Baby I’m Yours
He: Feel The Need In Me
She: How Sweet It Is
He: Love Machine
She: My Guy
He: When A Man Loves A Woman
She: It Takes Two
He: Heatwave
She: I Like It Like That
He: Oooooo Baby Baby
She: I Second That Emotion
He: Then Came You
She: How Sweet It Is To Be Loved By You
He: My Cherie Amour
She: Let Me Be The One You Need
He: My World Is Empty Without You
She: Just The Two of Us
He: Ain’t No Woman Like the One I Got
She: You’re My Everything
Them: You’re All I Need

Awwwwww :)

Nibblies

Well well well, I came across an article the other day about the latest rage Fish Pedicures. Uh Hunh you read that right. You sit with your feet in a tank of warm water and these widdle fishies, Garra Rufa’s to be exact, gnaw the dead skin of your feet. Hhhmmm, just the fact they do this makes me say ewwwwwww.

Whatever happened to the good ole days of scrubbing yer tootsies with a loofa or worser, those metal mandolins shredding your feet raw. So raw you slather them in lotion and build up even more dead cells to slice off next time.

However ! We are part of the animal kingdom and look at others who do the same. Birds remove ticks from giraffes and elephants; suckers remove ummm whatever from whales. If it works for them it’ll work for me.

Just the thought of dangling the tootsies in warm water at the end of a long day, goblet nearby, and allowing fishies to tenderly kiss em, mmmmm. Me thinks this may be nirvana. Okies, reality check they aren’t kissing them but it does sounds nicer.

I’m pondering if froggies would do the same as I relax in The Pond…

Ugging thru The White Shite

Those who live in the Northern climes know all about boots, snow boots, warm boots, comfy boots. Anything to keep the tootsies warm and dry yet provides safe walking. At last, thru trial and error I have found me oooooooooommmm boots. The best description is “uggs” but uggie they are not.

O my gawd ! Imagining the joy of walking barefoot thru the white shite, protected from the cold! Can I say devine? I’ve searched for these soles for years and just when they become unfashionable, they reach me. Note to self: read Vogue oftener. Actually, I saw them and pondered, they good for the snow bunnies but the price? Fast forward.

Well! Wandering thru the local shoe shoppe one day I spied, dare I admit it, a knock off. Bugger the original, and I walked out of the shoppe with me new uggs. After all what does an Aussie company know about making snow boots, I ask ya June :).

Few days later off I went to me bro’s in the bush. Ready to tromp thru the woods secure me feet would meld to the path. Exiting the car, I swore I said “Houston we have a problem” as both feet slid apart and found meself looking like Thumper with his first experience on ice. Okies, these obviously need some work.

Being a retired Girl Guide I had a back up bootie. Ahhh Sorels! Good for -40C with socks and as I don’t care to wear socks no matter the season, I was assured they would suffice. Tis like walking with bricks bound to your feet. Mind you the scars are still on me ankles. Seems the joiner didn’t do so good a job and left a few, shall I say bumps. The hammer took care of those.

I pondered the work to be done on me uggs so set about the task. Old sheet spread on the floor, me as well, Dremel at the ready with a new grinder attachment, and the refurbishment began. Obviously the designer of the treads was more into design then into function. I soon fixed that.

An hour later and me uggs had more canals every which way then imaginable. Much more better to grasp the white shite and ice with. Not the sexist booties but one must keep them selves warm in this clime. Besides, me tootsies are happy and warm. And comfy walking is a “good thing” as Miss Martha would say.

Winters Yin & Yang at The Pond

Blanketed yet deeply frozen
Serene yet cold harshness
Light yet void of colour
Refreshing yet stagnant of life
Calm yet struggles this season

One Lone Dove

One lone dove
his love long lost
huddled on the bench
sheltered from the wind
seeking solace
from the cold.

While I watch
one eye peers
back at me
as his head tilts
staring, thinking
will she disturb my roost?

Curtain falls
leaving him be
with his thoughts
of his lost love
and why he braves
his life alone.

I've Missed You Jack

I’ve missed you Jack,
and your nightly visits
when air is crisp
and cold assaults us.

I’ve missed you Jack,
leaving your bouquets
of leaves and petals
on window panes.

I’ve missed you Jack,
youth spent searching
for your presence
in morning light.

I’ve missed you Jack,
crystalline paintings
shielding us from
the days harshness.

I’ve missed you Jack,
giving us space
to sign our names
with chilled fingertips.

I’ve missed you Jack,
insulation preventing
you artistic license, till now
Welcome home Jack Frost,

Le Ice Full Moon

Evening sky the hue of baby’s skin,
slowly turned to a shade of blue grey
yet twas gentle on the eyes.

The moon rose quickly, nearly full
though clouds swirled attempting
to veil its lunar beauty.

Crème in colour, its outline fading
swept by a brush fading into the night sky
as it subdued the moon.

Crisscrossed silver threads,
surrounded in a barbed softness
binding one so tightly.

Is it bound, struggling to break free
from the grasp of mere clouds
easily torn and shredded?

Or is it merely stretching, preparing
for its glowing arrival
to shine upon us on the morrow.


January 11 brings us the Ice Full Moon. Rather fitting in this bone chilling cold, as it makes its presence known when snow crunches under each step. It is the largest of the full moons this year and I for one will be waiting and watching even if it’s just to wave at that man in the moon .....

What can ya do

Bart: Did you hear that?

Boof: Tink so, the screen door slam?

Bart: Yes, she’s out !

Boof: Race ya !

Bart: Wait one minute, I’m senior!

Boof: No seniority in the nest bro.

Bart: Just cause Mum liked you best gives you no right.

Boof: Eat seeds bro ! I’m off !!!

Bart: Oh Oh, she’s still out.

Boof: What she doing ? Your tail blocks my view.

Bart: She’s got the shovel.

Boof: Time to trim the tail bro.

Bart: Hey it keeps me warm !

Boof: And it’s in my way !!!

Bart: Move to another branch.

Boof: No way! You’ll get hit by snowballs before me.

Bart: Want me to wave at her for you, do ya ?

Boof: Sshhhhhh, she’s looking at us.

Bart: Make like we’re grooming each other.

Boof: Paws off bro !

Bart: Wait, where did she go ?

Boof: She’s gone in, go !

Bart: Not so fast, I didn’t hear the chchchchch did you ?

Boof: Too much snow in my ears bro but I smell something.

Bart: HA HA, she filled it !!!

Boof: Mine Mine Mine

And so another day begins at The Pond as the Black Beady Eyed furballs dine on the bird seed. Sheeeshhhhh what can ya do

Ode to The Seedling

Last Winter
as the winds danced
you took wings
waltzing with snowflakes.

I watched you
take root
grounding yourself
in cracked asphalt.

You settled,
burrowing til
warm Spring rain
gave you strength.

Ever careful
I parked close
for your protection
yet giving you space.

Last Summer
your tenacity was
as brilliant as
your coat of green.

Gently I raked
leaves from you
never wanting
to harm your youth.

Now shriveled,
purple and grey
from the cold of Winter
you stand alone.

This Spring
I shall dig you out
pamper you, revive you
to thrive unhindered.