A Sonnet for Snow

snow falls gently this night,
diamonds shimmer upon cape
blanketing the land in a serene escape,
O how my soul needs to walk this sight
and wash my face with refreshing flakes,
scrub away the grime of a days toil
replacing with the cleanliness it doth make,
while I dance amongst the stars soul
above the clouds hiding celestial celebration
from those upon earth gazing upwards
believers we resign our eyes towards
rejoicing with ground soaking liberation,
earth resounds with joyous chords
snow, be welcome this night of reflection


Wooo hooooooooooooo I finally did it! 
Scribbling a traditional sonnet instead of me traditional rambling.
Will wonders ever cease ? (insert whistling emotie here) 

in another land

Peace on Earth

goodwill towards all

Merry Christmas

After the Storm

You blew for over a day
saturating us with rain and snow,
and the landscape grew whiter and colder.

Soft white snow froze
in frigid temperatures overnight
and axe replaced shovel to regain freedom.

I cursed your unending rage
knowing it was a hopeless attempt  
to control your temperamental torrent.

But tonight when earth is still
I see gnarled branches dressed in popcorn
where squirrels have sipped the refreshing snow.

I hear the blustery north wind
blow through the garden of  ice laden trees
their crystals keep chime with distant church bells.

Bird feeders once barren
now serve food to the starving
resplendent in red, blue, and yellow.

Looking up at a clear star filled sky
I warm to the beauty of this landscape
and forgive your onslaught of a day now past.

Can you see me

Can you see me, overgrown roots now green
I once was the guardian of the woods
standing tall, branches reaching to the sky
the sentinel of the path where man followed
their trek to homelands after months onboard
a ship from Ireland, then devastated of timber
all for the need of a masters grand home.

Can you see me, now a moss covered stump
from settlers hacking their way through
the forest seeking shelter from the cold
of a Canadian winter not written in the book
on how to survive in your homeland
only knowing you need to survive
and the timber will be your only reprieve.

Can you see me, for what I once was
a home to creatures of the forest
where owls nested overseeing their domain
and squirrels feasted upon my fruit
spreading acorns only to live again in the glade
while foxes and fishers burrowed at my feet
providing a sheltering home to their families.

Can you see me now,
not just an overgrown stump…

Tree - Haiku

stalwart ancient oaks

guardians of the forest

strength through the eons

willows enchantment

beckons goddesses of moon

safety amongst leaves

paper thin birch bark

wrapped around skeleton

canoe skims surface

sweet sugar maple

fountain of gold elixir

syrups aroma

olive grown from twig

splinters from strike of lightning

my heart and eyes weep

vibrant green cypress

softened branches in repose

vision of homage

a carpet of moss

wraps itself over a stump

majesty now past

once stately elm

created a street alee

landscape is barren

ever so soft pine

boughs replenish empty pots

winter greenery

acacia fragrance

wafts enticingly in air

bumbles buzz in joy

along lumber trail

blackened spruce limbs spear grey sky

home to night creatures

rowan tree of life

witches wand seek souls to purge

branches flame of red

For more greenery please visit Haiku Heights.  

Sepia - Haiku

autumns noonday sun

awash in sepia tones

grasses in the marsh

Witch - Haiku

her incantation
beckons the black winged one
she flies with raven

doubtful with her craft
the mystical orb pulsates
answers sought are nil

plaits of golden hair
severed from eons of growth
wick for her cold hearth

stone faces on the wall
guardians of her threshold
past lovers keep watch

mourning memories
cobwebs become bridal veil
lovers’ desertion

on the crescent moon
black cloak hangs while she soars
a night of spells cast

beguiled bewitching
to her clan she reigns supreme
just an average day

darkness wages war
in her soul of curtains drawn
light will shine once more

green eyed enchantress
juggles orbs in full moonlight
beacons to her love

artemesia
spiderwort and toad lilies
conjurers garden

gnarled fingers spin pages
seeking forgotten knowledge
ancient time renews

the twisted maple
yearns for snowy owls return
her wings will renew

stencilled pentagram
black upon red floor in home
hubby not impressed


For more witchey poo Haiku, hop on your broom and fly to Haiku Heights.

I Have Pond Envy

Tis true I do, after visiting Rideau Ramble Woodland Gardens and Nursery a few weekends ago.  I could build this, in fact have often thought of creating a series of canals in the garden.  However the trees come first so I won’t be digging anytime soon.

The one thing missing is a row boat, butter crème in colour.  Similar to the one my sister and I rowed along the shores of Rideau Lake, those many summers ago. 

 

And this vista at the end is where I would sit, legs stretched out, grinning from ear to ear.  Ahhh yes, I still have my dream.    

A Rainy Autumn Night

Once I needed music
for companionship
on nights such as this,
but now I relish
solitude
while I putter about
keeping no time but my own
toddling off to bed
with a well worn book
as my only solace.

This chilly Autumn night
I lay in darkness,
listening to comforting
rain steadily falling,
rivulets
flowing through
the eaves troughs,
a hidden babbling brook
slowing winding its way
amid a leaf sodden canal.

Cold rain trickles
its way along
treads in the asphalt
shimmering
in the glow
of yellow street lights
appearing to the eye
a harvest moon arising,
but there is no moon
only an empty black sky.

Autumn arrives

Autumn arrives in the form of life giving rain,
renewing earths inhabitants seeking sunshine
only this day, sun sleeps late and retires early,
leaving us desperate for warmth without the fire.

Geese soar high inviting cousins to join
their joyous choir journeying south
in their quest for shelter in lands of plenty
while the earth slowly rotates on its axis
easing us into mysterious, misty darkness.

Honeybees crawl into faded Fushia blossoms
seeking nectar to last through out the winter
while the G family cleans gathered honeycomb
bottling natures purest food from the Highlands
where air is clean and honey is amber clear.

Sumacs begin to don their scarlet cloak
while maples decide whether it’s gold or red
to wear this season, dependent upon moisture
and heat in the waning days of summer
about to depart but not before one last hurrah.

The thumping of squirrels running over the roof
seeking hiding places for gathered walnuts
reminds me today is for simmering tomato sauce
and its warming, comforting aroma without the fire.

The Sweet Smell of Shite

At last I can sit and inhale the sweet aroma of life wafting through the garden.

Time travel backwards to last weekend while I walked the property making notes. The boundary beds were in distress and I decided a major intervention was needed. Not the intervention of 30 bags of ahem “magic soil” from the do it yerself store but the real stuff.

A visit to the local landscape depot, o now don’t worry because it specializes only in garden soils and stones, and I found the perfect remedy to the tired ole beds. The chocolate of soils that is a mix of black loam, manure, and mushroom compost. It was heaven to touch and smell. So I placed my order.

Arriving home after work on Friday and investigating the rather huge pile sitting in my drive all I could think was my, my, my, a half dump truck sure is a lot of shite to shovel. Best get at it. A quick change into the grubbies and with shovel and wheel barrow in hand, I began. After five hours I called it. I was drenched to the bone not because of the labour but due to the fact it was 90+ degrees, and I did not have a miners light to see in the dark. Hhmmmm, I’ll add that to the Christmas wish list.

Of course Saturday was a wash out, literally. We finally received our rain. It poured and poured for hours and I couldn’t be happier. I swear I saw plants smiling and it gave me time to work on my book without thinking I should be out there. It was a dreamy day, rain soaking the parched earth, frogs singing, though The Pond did overflow at one point. Maybe that’s why most spent the day sitting in puddles on the patio.

Today was a gorgeous day and I was out at 7am, making sure to grease the ole barrows wheel before I started. One mustn’t wake the neighbours on a Sunday after all. I giggled at the sign a neighbour had left on the pile. “Here Kitty Kitty” knowing my lack of love for marauding cats. Tossing the tarp off I began. Only the black gold around the edges had been soaked so I left it to dry in the glorious sun. Another six hours and I had enough. It was a rather cool day and I felt the bones getting a wee bit achy so best to ease off.

A hot shower, a goblet of Aussie Shiraz on the patio while enjoying the sweet aroma, and then me feather bed and I’ll be just fine for the work week. The only thing is I know what I’ll be doing afterwards for a number of days because only a third of the pile has been spread. At least I know the garden will be happy and healthy and that’s the main constant in my life.

Moon Colours - Haiku

this full moon echoes
itself in hues of cool blue
amid fields of stars

harvest moon so low
brilliance of bowled oranges
do you taste as sweet

your ghost hides from light
waking the world after night
of many colours

Holy Hosta

A few of my Hostas that have weathered the drought quite nicely mind you my water bill will attest to that.

Though for those with high defo monitors is to never trust a gardener with clean fingernails    : )

Green - Haiku

cedars frosted tips
ice coats branches of forest green
melting sun reveals life

emeralds shimmer
amongst the gold wedding band
my heart be taken

moss so plump and soft
a midsummers rain renewed
life in my garden

hazel eyes glimmer
streaks of gold in the sunlight
sparkles for my love

fern fronds sway in breeze
cast subtle patterns of green
in summers low light

shadows of green hues
entice a weary body
to rest this warm day

glass mosaic orbs
pulsate as sun disappears
iridescent greens

For more greenery please visit Haiku Heights

Sunbeam Shadow

Sunbeams filtered through leaves on high

cast shadows on a vacant wall

in sepia tones of grey and white.

Memories of damask cloth set upon the table

in patterns so subtle, inviting hands

to stroke the toil of the loom many years ago.

Such is a sunbeam, a weaver of shadows.

Colourful Caladiums

This summer has been hellish, weeks of 90 – 100+ temps and no rain.   The patio planters have been replanted three times and by jove me thinks I’ve got it.   Begonias, Coleus and Fushias all turned to mush.  Obviously the heat didn’t agree with them, that plus the invasion of aphids I’ve never seen the likes of made it frustrating.  However, I was not about to allow Mother Nature to best me.

The tubers I ordered didn’t arrive til May 24th weekend, which was a tad late to start indoors.   Right into pots they went.  Weeks of tending, gently scrapping the surface to feel for life, and a few good talks they are finally rewarding me.   Colours so vibrant, and patterns so distinct light up the patio as well as myself. 

The main planters have Wax Begonias in pink and red with Caladiums growing in the centre.  It’s a pleasing look, and maintenance free.  They’ve been growing inches a day and fill filled in the gaps nicely.  One pot even teased me with a bloom, a peace offering perhaps.   I’ll accept.

Shadows upon The Pond

At last I’ve found time to just be and enjoy serenity. The last few months have been how shall I say a tad hectic. 10, 11 hour days, even weekends left me drained, not even wanting to turn on the pooter once I’m home. I failed to tend to myself, taking care to prepare for the working weeks to come once spring arrived,learning the hard way one should not lift patio stones weighing slightly less than oneself after an almost sedentary winter. Insert “o you didn’t” here. As me bro said, Cheryl you’re not 35 anymore ya know. Thanks bro. My body may not be but me mind is.

Today I tended to the garden laying a soaker hose amongst the plants in the Celtic Circle. They were as drained as I. The Walnut tree that over sees that bed has lost a lot of branches leaving it in sun and the wind literally sucks any moisture out of the soil. My poor babies cried for water and I as a care taker obliged. I must say the Turtleheads are looking perkier. And for an odd reason frogs have been singing from the dampness. Really! They have a huge pond to enjoy yet they seek out mud?

I didn’t find time but made time to finally relax and enjoy the sights and sounds around me. The family of Blue Jays made an appearance with babes running mum and dad ragged finding food for them. I knew he was up to something because everyday evening at 5 pm he would appear and bathe in the bird bath causing the resident frogs to scatter. Uh hunh I thought, you’ve been gallivanting out and about and showering before you go home to the nest! The cad. But seeing the family together was worth it.

It was a hot sultry summers day, humidex in the high 30’s with an even hotter wind. I am NOT a hot weather person. Give me a pleasant 72F, light breeze and clear skies and we’re talking perfection. However I’m not one to let a wee bit of heat stop me from being outside. Al Green sang thru the trees as I took photos and scribbled. Tonight I putter about the house with George Benson lulling me into sleep after a good day. A day of watching, seeking out movement in the garden. Shadows created by the sun and wind. Shadow, I love the word. It must be spoken softly almost in reverence. And so I shall end with a photo and haiku………

high sun casts shadows

fern shimmers upon water

framed by lotus leaves

I watched the Orb

I watched the orb

float freely upon the breeze,

captured by lotus

Wild - Haiku

winds have been silenced

yet distant call of the owls

are heard by these ears

marshlands replenished

home to beasts seeking shelter

from mans storms so wild

this night so silent

doors locked and windows closed

stillness creeps on thru

winters’ wilderness

forgotten in the garden

springs forth in colour

run with the wild wolves

free from harnesses of man

released of burdens

Penned for Wild at Theme Thursday

I am Home

Pull back the mouldy leaves, gently from my tender blacken skin.

Allow me to breathe in fresh air once again, to fill my lungs.

Replenish my summer home, the water now stagnant and cold.

Let me live again for I am home, home in The Pond, giver of life.

A Sight to Behold

As the Pink Full Moon rises I harken back to the dawn of the day. Up and out by 5 am, on me morn walkie, my path lit by the yawning Seven Sisters fading, seeking their bed. I search the sky for a sign.

Allow me to digress. Early morning walks are important to me, are a part of me, and dare I say never cross my path during my sojourn in this sleepy town. It’s my time, down time, while I renew my self before a hectic day.

As I walked along one crisp morn I glanced up at the sky, which I’m prone to do, and spotted a brilliant light moving west to east. Being a skywatcher for years I already knew I live in Vector 37 and air travel is south to north. Hhhmmmmm I thought at the light still moving.

I hurried home, logged in and went to one of me faves, spaceweather.com. Yes, I’m addicted. Clicked on the Flybys link, entered my postal code and saw it. Aha! At that exact time ISS was flying over me. Wow! The International Space Station and I could see it from this wee place on planet earth. Well it became a challenge. From then on, I searched the heavens and was always delighted to see it passing by even seeing the familiar H form one lucky morn.

Fast forward………this morn I stopped to stretch in the drive and scanned. Ooooooo, there ya are! High above I could see it, ISS. It had a yellowish glow, and was moving faster then I’ve ever seen. Perhaps it was rushing to say hello to the sun as she woke, her aura reflecting on it. One never knows what goes on up there out of our sight. ;)

Light of The Earth

Born under a mystical crescent moon,
guided by beacons of Venus and Jupiter,
I am Alban Eiler, rising up thru the mist
bringing life while I declare my domain
upon this land for I am Light of the Earth.

Descendant of a golden manned king
passed down thru centuries, into mine,
his colours, are my colours, green and gold
the colours of life renewed in this landscape
beneath the spring sun of glorious warmth.

A Celtic harp flies from the barren tree mast
unfurling in the wind for all to inhale my scent,
I sail once again upon the ocean tides
bestowing the gift of notes high and sweet
throughout this day, I am Light of the Earth.

Griffin Awakes

Amongst the cold, stark, barren trees
branches spike upward, piercing the sky,
dawn appears, her eyelids flutter, she yawns
focusing on the day ahead, and the Griffin awakes.

Awaking I see her thru the glass, my reflection
in awe, stares as much at her as myself
while she ruffles her coppery feathers
and with eyes afire, her heat thaws rivers ice.

Ice swept away on the rivers renewed current,
water transforms into a black satin ribbon
edged in white velvet of snow, it winds its way
thru creeks and lakes, into its ocean home.

Home she is as talons uncurled and beak as sharp
scratch the shard surface, formed of bitter winds
snow and rain that held us in its strangling grasp
now releases the land into comforting golden embers.

Embers warming my heart for she is the hope
I’ve longed for, yearned for in all these months
of cold, dead winter, she is the one who lives
to spark growth, ignite colour upon this frozen earth.

Ghosts of the North

Listening to Robins herald Spring this day I think about the ghosts of the north. I first found them last October literally lolling about the day waiting for the freeze over in Hudson’s Bay. Finding their webcam, well not THEIRS, but of the locals, I was hooked line and sinker, and even accused of being a Polar Bear stalker!


I will admit if you were on me email list I did overload it with screenshots of “oooooooooo look! Mummie and cubbie, or if you’re online RIGHT NOW log in ‘cause they are cuddling!” I’m surprised they didn’t block me (insert rolling eyes emotie here). I won’t even discuss the calls to coworkers whispering “wanna see a polar bear” then having them rush into my office, oooing and awwwing at the delight.


A friend had his sons watching one afternoon and soon his entire block was watching. Just imagine young lads running from home to home banging on doors, excitedly yelling “the bears! The bears! Quick !!!!!” Even their school was logged in studying the ghosts of the north. These solitary creatures waiting for ice to form so they could travel to their northern home.


The last day I logged in, there was one mum leading her youngsters out onto the ice. Slowly they moved away from the cam, but her majesty took one look back and I felt she was saying goodbye. After that the cam went offline. I hope she’s living well and her family is thriving.

Between the Hedge Rows

Between the hedge rows
I see your beacon
my love doth shine
beaming for mine eyes,
these eyes in thine step,
over the eons
as you have followed mine

At last my love has found me
safe in your arms
I forever be yours
as true love has not bounds,
boundaries nor time,
whilst thou be mine my love
my Valentine between the rows of hedge…

Music - Haiku

notes five seven five
play amongst strings on paper
the muse strums her song

flakes of snow white whirl
following the winds music
beckoning to dance

fingers gently play
a song of forgotten chords
memory recalls

a mind once restless
surrenders to the night song
harp chords bring it peace

sounds of night creatures
surround the silent listener
huddled in the dark

notes drift on the wind
my love sighs from a distance
I hear his music


For more music please visit Haiku Heights

For Doreen - Haiku

ribbons of stardust
follow you leaving this life
sparkles in our hearts

colourful garden
planted over septic tank
scarlet geraniums

subtle hands entwined
62 years of love knots
one hand now alone

divine Christmas treats
baked with loving caring hands
shelf holds empty tins

your serene smiling face
welcoming friends and family
will forever remain

Doreen
1925 - 2012

Where is Winter

Winter has arrived pounding landscapes
snow, rain, freezing rain, and hail grasp branches in an icy grip
not giving up without a fight, while the wind blows strong along
streets that have become a war zone of frozen holes
where bodies disappear into the depths of Hades
created by ice instead of snow, warmth their only salvation.

Where is our winter, our traditional time
of forming snow angels, catching flakes on tongue,
evening shovelling while neighbours towing babes in sleighs
walk by giggling, warming this heart with a it’s not THAT bad sigh
and delighting in birds, o so colourful, visiting the feeder,
with a song so pure on a crisp, cold day.

Instead we slide and huddle against the bitter wind
assaulting us with unworldly, so un Canadian winter
causing us to dread each new day with Weather Warnings
though this day the sun is bright, is warm, and hopeful that
Spring is just around the corner, but for now Al Green is blasting,
plans for the garden are forming, toes are warm and I’m smiling.

Night in The Galaxy of Gardenias

While the north wind blows this night,
I settle in picking up neglected brushes
and the dance of emotion begins.

Pigments of cream, peach and saffron,
the pallet of choice this chilly night
take life upon a deep green sky.

It takes a life of its own this night,
warming this soul while I create
and allow brushes and paint to flow.

Spattering the canvas with stars,
Gardenias float thru the galaxy
on this cold winters night.

The Bottom Brothers New Door

“Close the door Soggy!”

“Ahhh but Twinkle, tis a cool breeze that freshens our home. It needs a light airing out wouldn’t you agree? Besides the ummmm, aroma is a tad high.”

Twinkle and Soggy had fallen asleep months ago, much like hibernating bears in autumn. They had sought solace in a vacant rabbits burrow under the ole spruce and simply drifted off, until today.

“Door? What door Twinkle?” mumbled a yawning Soggy while rubbing his eyes with one hand and scratching his behind with another. Those needles get in everywhere he thought. Then he realized the tone of Twinkles voice and his eyes widened.

“That! That block of wood blocking the entrance. I call that a door. Wouldn’t you?”

Soggy sat up and looked towards the entrance. There was a block of wood, slightly askew resting amongst the branches covering their home, sheltering them from the cold north wind. Where did that come from he wondered. It was somewhat Art Nouveau in design although he leaned more towards Victorian with all its whatnots and whyfores, but he liked this expression of nature man made.

Brushing off leaves and moss they staggered towards beams of dawns light cutting thru the darkness, both somewhat dopey from being awakened before their time.

“Where do you think this came from Twinkle? Why would someone block our home? Have we been found out? Are they trying to smother us?”

“I don’t think so Soggy. Looks like something handmade so lets’ don our winter gear and take a closer look.”

The brothers gathered birds down, crumpled ferns, silk from milkweed pods, and moss, wrapped each other in their warmth, then wound with grapevine tendrils knotted tightly, and off they trudged. The Bottom Brothers were determined to get to the bottom of this.

“Ppppussshhhh Soggy! come on put your back into it!”

Soggy the younger of the two did what he could but being slighter of build his effort had to be twice of his bigger and older brother. Some thought his head was lighter than Twinkles but his heart was larger.

Into the snow they fell, landing on top of the door, splayed limbs into the cold. It struck them hard, it struck them cold, though wrapped in warmth the bitterness shivered them to their core.

“Soggy! Are you there? Are you alright? Talk to me Soggy!”

Soggy limp from the impact wiggled his feet. “Legs aren’t broken Twinkle, see my feet are moving.” With a sigh and a silent Thank You to the stars, Twinkle gathered himself. Lending his hands to his brother he stood him up beside him where he belonged.

“Well Soggy, what do you make of this? I don’t think it was placed by foe. Lets’ put it right so our home doesn’t fill in with snow.” They worked hand in hand heaving and hoeing the hunk of wood back into place. They stood back eyeing the piece standing in awe.

“This was carved with love Twinkle. See the curlie cues, the smiling face, those eyes, and the colours! The colours Twinkle! It was made to keep us hidden and safe.”

Twinkle, always the more serious of the two, pondered, investigating every nuance the door held. “Yes, I see Soggy, it was made to protect us and ward off creatures who may wish us harm. It was made just for us Soggy. And we know by who.”

At that Twinkle and Soggy had a snowball fight. Pushing each other into the snow, laughing and gasping in freshness of the day, of life, they knew they were thought of even during the deadness of winter.