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.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Sunday, September 09, 2012
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.
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.
Monday, September 03, 2012
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
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
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