It remains to be...

Tear down

the once loved tree

its crooked branches

webbed and dusty.

Stow away memories

of a happier time

when it was shared

on joyous occasions.

Replace the shimmer

with iridescent tarnish

as a thousand sands

of sparkle fall

to be swept and tossed

out in the trash,

with tinsel rusted from tears.

Silence heavenly voices

angels from on high,

their chorus screams

from the strangulation

of serrated ribbons

which hung glass ornaments

collected with care

through the years.

Toss tins of cookies,

mouldy cherries

and rancid nuts,

leftovers from baskets

fermenting in the fridge,

sacrifice to the composter

and wait for decomposition

when worms awake.

Salvage paper wishes

of love and good cheer

to be stored in the box,

held and reread next year,

when the good wishes

be faded as the ink, or be

flicked off by curled edges

on aged parchment.

Wrap me in your arms

confirm to me there will be

better days, more warmth,

happiness and peace.

If not there will be another

time, perhaps another year,

as it remains to be.

Anybody got a flamethrower?

It seems my idea of melting the white shite and ice isn't as popular as I thought. It sounded perfectly sane to me. Obtain a flame thrower and blast the patio. It's made of stone so wouldn't burn. Alas, there is not one to be found in this town. It's alright for CT to stock semi-automatics but flamethrowers, noooooo. ~sigh~

So I spent a few hours hacking away at the landing and finally cleared it. Mind you I'll have to re-stain in spring due to the scraping away of the top coat and maybe a few, ummm, grooves will need to be filled. But I was going to do that anyways, yep, I'll stick with that reasoning and remember how they came to be in May.

Next came clearing of the patio itself. After I made it past the bottom step I realized it just wasn't built up white shite. Lets see, we've had so much of everything in the past week; last Saturday after a foot fell, I scurried out and cleared it off, creating a path to the composters while I was at it. Overnight it froze rain for hours, then snowed all day Sunday. See where I'm going?

Monday eve went out after more freezing rain and like a certain entity, literally walked on water, mind you it was frozen but yes I too walked on it. It's layer upon layer of snow, an inch of ice, snow, 3 inches of ice, and more snow lovingly delivered yesterday. It made me look at the sky and cry out “Santa, I was such a good girl all year long, why???” Perhaps I'll go to hell in a handcart next year and see what he brings me. Maybe a shiny, new flamethrower?

After a few hours I called it a day, not quite finished but will do for now. The chair was released from its icy prison, mitts were soaked from throwing hunks of ice and the birds were becoming verbally cranky because I, their host, the one who spends good money on seed and ensures the feeder is always full, was toiling away and they vanted to be left alone to eat.

Sitting in the wet chair looking at the chunks, I thought those would make a mighty fine igloo. Solid and flat, easy to carve, and not about to melt anytime soon. Me thinks I just may have a weekend project. Perhaps a few small ones to provide homes for the squirrels and Pooka. Then again it sounds like a lot of work in the wet and cold and I've had enough of this, merci very much. Anybody got a flamethrower? 

A Christmas Tail

It's Christmas Eve, the tree is lit, I'm bundled from the frigid cold and alone wondering what to do this night. I can only watch Elf so many times though his scream of SANNTTTAAAAAA still slays me. I won't say how his leap onto the Christmas tree sends me into fits of laughter either.

Hearing the chi chi chi from outside I looked out and saw the shadow of the cardinal at the feeder. Ahhh like clockwork he arrives. Before sunrise and at sunset. He lives in shadows, or prefers to dine alone when the doves, chickadeedeedees, and juncos find their beds in the hedge.

I spied a form at the base of the feeder. Hhhmmmm, that's an awfully big bird I thought so I opened the blind wide. Can't be a cat, they don't care for seed, nor a dog. Wait! It can't be! It tis!!! I would know that tail anywhere! Poooooooooooooooka has returned.

I haven't seen him since one rainy eve in May, when I had a wee chat with him asking to leave the garden alone. There's a park nearby I explained, and he was more than welcome to seek nourishment there. He hopped off with a flick of his fluffy white tail. I'm still not sure if it was an Adios! or not having fingers the other type of salute.

I watched him munch the sunflower seeds I had spread onto the snow for the ground feeders. Obviously he dined well all summer as he is one BIG bunnie! I'll search the garden in daylight to see how he got in because the garden is completely fenced and with the two feet of white shite there isn't room for even a mouse to squeeze under the fence.

As for me, I feel better. I have a bunnie for Christmas, not your ordinary bunnie but Pooka who is a very special bunnie. Tomorrow I will leave a few carrots out for him and spread more seed. After all our furry and feathered friends should enjoy Christmas too.  

Gift - Haiku

timeless devotion,

two souls with their hearts entwined

bound with red ribbons  

for Andrew, my breath, my heartbeat, my gift...

Open more gifts at Haiku Heights 

Tanka - My View

twilight in garden

beneath crystal laden boughs

cardinal shadows

silently feed this cold eve

in reverence while snow falls

Join the Toads for more Tanka 

Me thinks...

Me thinks we're in for one of those winters. Even though it's not officially here the signs are there. 2' of snow already on the ground and this day it kept falling, sigh.  I don't mind the white shite in moderation of course because it brightens the landscape. Tis a nice change from the colourless November, but it's becoming ridiculous.

One must become one with the flake and determine when it's just right to shovel. Case in point. A foot of the white shite in the drive that must be cleared. However, freezing rain is now falling. Now anyone who knows snow like a Canuckian knows snow, knows one should leave the snow to provide traction beneath the coating of ice presently building up, and I know snow.   ;)

I shall toddle off fresh from filling the bird feeder, catching flakes on my tongue while listening to bells on the sleigh horses echoing from the park and will sleep well tonight. Tomorrow is another story when I ponder winter has yet to officially arrive.  

Dew - Haiku

indents in the dew

frogs feasted on night crawlers

tummy rubs needed

after winter storm

snowshoes bind once free bare feet

flakes replace dew

Follow the droplets to Haiku Heights for more dew. 

A Bitter Cold

Bitter cold suffocates us

sucking out breath with its talons,

ripping at throats of those fools

who dare to venture outside.

While a dastardly wind blows,

trees bend in supplication

whispering to the night wind

for relief from shattering limbs.

Snow levels rise enveloping

sheltering boughs of confers

planted for the avian creatures

naked legs, shivering in the cold.

Christmas lights twinkle in the wind

providing little warmth to wayward souls

only to those brave enough who peek 

from tightly closed drapes drawn to colour. 

Rivulet - Haiku

early morning mist

rivulets of dawns chilled breath

wakens naked skin

Follow the rivulets to Haiku Heights 

After the ball...

sleepy Days eyes fluttering awake,

her irises reflect in the morning sky

while Night sought reprieve,

leaving her crystal earrings on trees.

why do you...

why do you surround my bones

with sharpened iron bars,

don't you understand

my spirit soared long ago,

the moment I ceased inhaling life

mine left this existence

of tissue, muscle and bone

to take its place amongst the stars...

 

 

 

250th Pondering

 

To honour my 250^th pondering I chose a photograph of my favourite tree, the Acacia, accompanied by one of my favourite quotes....

“ The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity...and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself . “    William Blake

Mr. Blake was very astute. In the Acacia, I not only see strength and longevity but the beauty of its blossoms that nurture bees; strong limbs that provide a home to squirrels nest; fallen frosted leaves creating mulch for the undergrowth; gnarly branches casting eerie shadows upon a blanket of snow; and the heavenly scent of honey wafting through the neighbourhood.

Nature is my reality and my imagination. Thank you Mr. Blake for stating the obvious, at least to me.

The Pond has a Redo

August brought a few changes to The Pond. The monsoon rains this summer made the decision to change more pressing. It's not a good thing when an inch of water flows to the foundation. Not good at all. 

When I laid it many moons ago it was slanted away but as with everything, things settle with age. Feel free to use your own mind to ponder “things” ;) So the quest began. I thought of hiring someone to lift, regrade and lay but finding a crew to do just that was next to impossible; besides I needed a change and had always admired flagstone patios.

I had the great fortune to find a young man Mal, who was eager, dedicated (to the extreme), but most of all he listened! O my stars, a man who listens is as rare as a diamond in a coal mine. Me thinks I'll hear about that last sentence. 

I could write on and on about the process but it would bore most humans. I won't write after digging up the old one I had found garbage bags laid out flat when I had run out of heavy duty plastic. After 20 odd years they had never broken down! I won't write that after a brutal work week I came home to sand and stacked stones and said bugger this! I'm at the beach for the weekend and so planted my chair in the sand. I won't write how me and Mal laid out the stones lining The Pond on the hottest day of the year while listening to Willie and Lobo. I won't write how the froggies were undisturbed and grooved to the voices, especially Mals. He learned real quick how to speak frogaleeze. 

But I will write on how pleased I am with the new digs. Of course the pergola posts had to be stained to match the new steps. I bribed a tall coworker into helping, he began at the top and I at the bottom and soon our brushes met. The colour had to coordinate with the stones doncha know. Next spring the house will be painted to match, a lighter shade but at least it will flooooowwwww and that's a good thing as Miss Martha would say :) and not a more perfect place I could find for pondering...

 

 

Grass - Haiku

cool sweetness of grass

replenish these weary soles

tender is mine flesh

 

Grass is greener at Haiku Heights 

Jack the Nipper

He descended from the night sky on threads of ice crystals

anchored by the waning moons tip, sliding silently to earth.

Withdrawing his brush as a warrior would his sword

he struck hard and fast painting frost upon the garden.

No one could deny his intent, and that was to destroy life

on an autumns night when all were tucked safely asleep.

They had no strength to fight, drained of warmth and sun,

death was inevitable this night as Jack the Nipper laid waste.

 

Booo !

Autumns Chill

Air is damp this night as a cold rain falls,

I should turn the furnace on to warm the house

but and there’s always a but this time of year

I want to breathe fresh air, with windows open.

Toss another blankie on the bed I say to meself

to ward off the chill, even though socks are warming

under a pile of quilts already laid upon the bed,

note to self, seek out the Egyptian cotton linens.

I putter about seeking the fleece pajamas

needing to but not wanting too because it’s too early

this October, much too early to be bundling up

against the chill of summer sheets in a cold bed.

Paco strums in shadows

Paco De Lucia strums

on a sunny autumn day as

crickets follow his rhythm

with their chorus of castanet’s

while nimble fingers play

in the shadows of

running deer, soaring eagles

in the late day sun. 

Dusk - Haiku

light fades into dusk

translucent foliage

glows in the garden 

Autumns Embrace

Beneath turquoise sky

weathered grape vines

wrap selves around auburn limbs

in a garland of citrone jewels.

Pots of garnet mums

sparkle in the sun

as the morn dew evaporates

leaving blossoms feather soft to the touch.

Frost kissed maple leaves

fall silently onto the garden path

weaving an aubusson carpet

of colours dyed by mother natures hands.

Ripened walnuts

lined on top of the fence

wait for squirrels to take them home,

to their winter larder for the season ahead.

Tightly woven webs

shimmer in sun beams

snagging leaves and begone insects

twirling them in the warm autumn breeze.

Maple keys

so brown and plump

await for plucking by tender fingers

to be carried off to nests for the winter.

Land gulls drift

upon the gentle current

feathers of white in the air

forming crystals in the sun shine.

Warm breeze flows

through the garden

enticing leaves to dance though

dry and crinkled they join the pace.

This low sun

creates intriguing shadows

capturing the other worldly

in the undergrowth of the garden.

Autumns embrace

in the soft warm sun

under a bower of glorious colours
soothes this weary soul.

Petit Rouge

 

I’ve been trying to photograph Petit Rouge for a couple of years since he moved into the hood and set up home.  You either love them or hate them, but I’m rather partial to reds so you know what I think of him.   He’s a quick wee guy and rather camera shy but he is a character and one who “allowed” me to photograph his greatness.  

It was a warm summers’ eve and I was dining on the patio.  He was scurrying back and forth in the eaves trough as he had been for months.  From inside the house it sounded like tiny reindeer hooves prancing, which is fine in the winter but rather out of place in the summer.

Of course I natter to him about the racket he’s making.   He stopped when I spoke only to peer out over the edge and give me the “look”.   When I made eye contact, his head went down behind a branch.  This game of Peek-a-boo went back and forth making me wonder if he really believed he became invisible because who knows what goes on in their widdle brwain. 

I anxiously await the annual pillaging to begin.   Bart believes (again, what is it with these critters) he is a hun, a warrior, one sent out by the villagers to bring home enough food to sustain it through the winter.    He hops along the fence tops, up into the hedge, across sheds right into Rouges territory.  His raid is successful when I hear the bbbbbbbbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr coming from Rouge and watch Bart and his little black arse, his mouth full of walnuts, run back towards his own nest.  

Bart follows the fence line every time but Rouge has a trick up his furry sleeve.   He sails through the trees then hops over the pergola, onto the roof, over and down, finally leaving the chase.  I’ve never quite seen such hops as his in full run.  Think of Mighty Mouse, legs fully extended forward, head tucked.  Yep, that be Rouge in flight.

I’ve noticed he’s not around as much these days though when he is, he is not alone.  Me thinks Rouge will be nice and toasty warm this winter cuddled up with Mme Petit Rouge in one of their nests and just maybe I’ll hear the pittie pat of real baby squirrels on the roof in spring.

 

 

Yearn - Haiku

Friday afternoon

times slows as I watch the clock

sun will have to wait

Conversation in the Night

Another warm night and I sought relief on the patio. Nearing dusk I secretly wished for a sign of life, of light. One I hadn’t seen in awhile. As my eyes scanned the garden I found it, the tiniest of warm glows emanating from the praying hands hosta. It was fitting. Its leaves unwrapped pointing skyward releasing this wee creature into the night air.

I followed giggling watching it slowly circle the garden. It meandered over top of the water hyacinth bouncing from stalk to stalk; then moving to the shrubbery, in and out along the tops and in between. It lost itself once or twice at the back fence but always returned to the garden and to me.

As I watched him slowly spiralling up into the limbs of the ole maple I noticed the full moon in all its brilliance. I wondered if he saw it too. I believe he did because shortly after the wee light was lost to the night. Pouting, I sat back in my chair and gave thanks to have had one sweet interlude with him.

While I closed my eyes the breeze carried a very faint conversation in the night…

“Tell me, O moon, why your light shines brighter than mine?”

“Ahhh little one do you not know, I am not of this earth. It is my life to shine at night upon creatures of your planet.”

“Yes but moon, people gaze at you in wonder, wish upon you, even name their children after you. Me, I’m just a bug, a weak little bug that only lives for a few weeks but you moon, you live forever!”

“Little one, did you not see that human follow you through the garden? Did you not see the joy on her face when she saw you?”

“I guess I was busy looking for a mate and was focused on my I’m available light. But you saw her reaction moon?”

“Yes I did little one. But before you read much more into it, I don’t think she was looking at that but more your magical quality. She knows you only appear once a year and that makes you very special. I on the other hand am old, am always here in various shapes. I am not as special as you believe.”

“You mean by only living once a year I have humans searching for me, just me?”

“Yes, little one, just you. You have been written about, dreamt about, and have had magical midnight tales whispered by starlight for eons. You live on even when you are gone. You are revered as wonderment in their world. Never forget that in your journey this night.”

“Thank you moon, I didn’t know. You have enlightened me and now I shall glow with happiness and carry on my flight with a renewed sense of purpose. This little bug will bring a special light to the world!”

“Enjoy your night little one. Remember you are now and always will be magic!”

I couldn’t help but smile and wink at the moon whispering a thank you, while the wee creature floated through the tree tops, his light blinking to a new rhythm.

I have a Theory

I have a theory when frogs sleep. It has to be during the day when nocturnal creatures with a taste for frog legs aren’t about. I’ve been watching them today and do believe my theory is proven.

There is a birdbath, a blue clay platter filled with water on the edge of The Pond. It not only looks nice but serves a function as an actual birdbath especially for robins. However there appears to be more use by frogs than birds of late.

Frogue has been sitting in it all day. His back legs constantly twitching much like a pup who dreams of chasing that infernal cat does. I can relate because I’m not innocent of having those midnight twitches. As I kneel for a closer look I see his eyes are closed.

AHA! He is sleeping after all and perchance dreaming of his lady frog. Or it could be dinner, a huge plate of meal worms topped off with blood filled skidders. All I really know is my theory is correct and now I shall write my doctoral thesis, “Amphibian Wet Dreams, Fantasy or Frrribbbbbtion”.

Feathers - Haiku

Ripples - Haiku

windows wide open

drapes undulate in the breeze

ripples of linen

ripples of linen

fresh fleece carded and woven

dyers vats await

dyers vats await

indigo, saffron, eggshells

colours from nature

Follow the ripples to Haiku Heights

Me Beautiful Bounty

I swore I was finished, however gardeners know no one is ever truly finished especially this time of year. So there I was at Canuckian Tire one day, minding myself to shade my eyes from the nursery and scurried right in. After the purchase I stepped out into this brilliance shining forth. My eyes focused and I gasped, truly gasped at the site.

I stood motionless for but a minute then my feet took me to the new arrivals. O my dears, how I’ve been searching for you I whispered as I stroked their leaves. I experienced nirvana exploring the beauties before me. Purchasing one of each I left with the biggest grin on my face I was surprised I hadn’t caused an accident being in the state I was.

Last year I ordered a number of caladium tubers. Not easy to find in the great white north. They arrived in late May and I quickly potted them. Weeks of tending and searching for life they surprised me at how fast they took hold and shot up sprouts. Ahhh, the colours on the patio were glorious! They thrived in the wicked heat and gave me such joy.

Unfortunately I was a tad late in transplanting them to indoor pots so most perished. I let them be over winter and was able to nurse only a few this spring. Weeks of searching sites and emails of “do you have caladiums for sale? Please? I’ll trade me first born, do almost anything". The replies were always no. Now I have the last laugh and will baby me beautiful bounty

Stone - Haiku

pebbles on the shore

hold memories and wishes

initials in stone

Please vist Haiku Heights for more stones

The Planets Danced This Night

Under the bower of the full flower moon the planets dance…

Venus slowly rises in the western sky
as she has just awakened from her sleep.
She is stunning in her ethereal glow
her gown the colour of Korean wax bells.

Mercury, the little one, but o so fast
is dressed in fiery red kniphofia armour.
He moves towards Venus reaching out
once conjoined he twirls her into euphoria.

Jupiter, the overseer, keeper of many moons
joins in the dance of planets this magical night.
His cloak of clouds, the colours of rippled hosta’s
entice Venus to join him for she is born of beauty.

The planets danced under the bower of the full flower moon…

2013 Floating Champion

It had been two weeks since I had drained, cleaned and refilled The Pond and after tolerating the cranky glares from the frogs I went nursery hopping. Mind you the weather hasn’t been conducive having tropical plants outside when I’ve had to scrape the car windshield so I delayed the search. I finally found water lettuce and hyacinth. They weren’t as lush as last year and of course the prices had increased but only the best will do.

Arriving home I tossed the plants into The Pond and watched them float merrily along gently prodded by the lovely afternoon breeze. There was serenity at last. Having other things to do I stood there with hands on hips and stated “I hope you all are happy now that you have your expensive rafts! Ya lazy buggers!” and at that I toddled off smirking to myself.

Two hours later I decided to see how they (the plants not the frogs) were coping with the water temperature change and lo and behold one had found his perch. This has to be an all time record! I sat on my throne, watching him steadying himself on his throne and thought, a oui Frogue is home, he’s content, I am happy and this is a truly priceless Kodak moment.



Story - Haiku

sheltered beneath oak

shattered eggshells lay empty

chicks stories silenced

For more stories please visit Haiku Heights

Sweet Refreshing Rain

Ahhhh, the sweet refreshing sound of water gurgling through the eave troughs makes me smile this night. It’s one of the most comforting sounds I know. Rain quenches plants thirst birthing into life this warm May. A much too warm May.

A week ago Hosta’s were no where to be seen; now they unfurl their leaves. Solomon’s Seal were but buds while I made note to dig and transplant this weekend; now they are 3’ high and beyond moving. Lemon Pennywort, sparse along The Pond now illuminates the area with their thick and brilliant growth. Ethereal ferns stretch and release fronds; flamenco dancers by the stone wall.

This is spring, the one season I relish and thrive in. There is warmth to the earth, clarity of air, songs from nature and vibrancy of colours. Life has renewed itself and so have I.

Birds of Spring - Haiku

great blue heron

silently glides in morning

feathers paint the sky

cardinals in red

song as strong as their plumage

patrols the garden

flittering feathers

scattering beaks of yellow

junco’s in shadows

jauntily capped sparrows

dressed in earth tones of brown

two step in sown seeds

sour coloured finches

grasp eyes with brilliance

yellow and lime hues

chortling robins

affirm springs late arrival

we smile happily

Affairs of the Heart

Tonight I listen to Affairs of the Heart. A classical composition by Marjan Mozetich. I listen to a lot of classical musical but this piece moves me like no other. Violins and cello’s play in harmony that captures every emotion.

I first heard it on CBC a few years ago and after the one concert I had to have it.  His strings play at me heart, lulls me into serenity; makes me dream. Just when I believe he sends me to heaven, I fall safely to earth on wings of dandelion seeds, gliding downward, slowly spiralling to a soft landing.

The yin and yang between cello’s playing off each other makes me ache, o such emotion he has spun. Waves of strings crash onto the shore, only to be swept out to sea and the cycle continues as they join with a sweet violin, and I know who will sleep soundly this night

Dawn whispered

Follow my breath Dawn whispered,

walk along the river, walk along with me

I cherish your company while I wake.

Allow my arms to surround you,

envelope the ground you walk upon

while I paint you pastels upon your wake.

Inhale the freshness of a day a new,

bountiful is nature and life renewed

of spring upon this land awake.

Setting Sun

Setting sun
warms
me shoulders
through
southern windows
smeared
with dirt
and fallen flakes
of snow.
Sun rays
permeate
til they find home
massaging
tissue and flesh
with beams
of light
tantalizing
endings of nerves.
Memories
of my lovers'
caress
in the naked
throes
of winter,
suffocating heat
to her marrow.
her bone.

Breeze - Haiku

Follow the breeze to Haiku Heights

It is Finished

It’s finished. Thank heavens! I’m tired of reading me own words over and over. A task I don’t recommend to anyone. Last year I decided to create a book of these ponderings, published and printed and to have a party in homage to the tenth birthday of The Pond. It didn’t happen. Unfortunately life got in the way. Those who know me know what “life” really means.

After a year of sorting, copying, pasting, sorting, editing, filling, emails with the printer, lots and I mean LOTS of pondering does this fit?; damn there’s one sentence beginning that page o shite! How many variations of a date can there be?, and ooooooo nooooo, there is such a blank space not to mention the “thru” instead of through noted by me editor. I won’t even mention the grammar function in Word, geeeez this is Canuckian language after all. After months and months of editing, italizing, centreing, I am finally pleased.

Soooooooo I was thinking as I’m want to do (insert whistling emotie here) I took it once step further and researched actual publishing. In Canada, applying for an ISBN is a sweet step. Just register at Collections Canada and voila! When you pay for the printing you are a publisher. I am a publisher! and so Macacia Press was born. This tome will be in the National Library of Canada and the mere thought of it humbles me but then I deserve this. For after all  when I’m long gone from this earth, others will read me ponderings and take delight in what one woman scribbled.

I’m giddy this night. It’s been a dream of mine to have me ponderings in one format, to give to my family and friends. That’s the goal, nothing more. There may be grammar errors, syntax errors, and so on but I don’t care. These are my words, my feelings, my photos and so they are a part of me. As the sun finds it bed so will I soft in the knowing all is well.

Shimmer - Haiku

To shimmer with us please visit Haiku Heights

Sugar - Haiku

It's that time of year when sugar shacks are made ready for the upcoming boiling season.  There is not a sweeter aroma in the air then that of maple sap boiling its way to become maple syrup.  mmmmmm.  The photo is of the steam coming off the boil pan at an outdoor camp. 

For more sweetness please visit Haiku Heights. 

Conversation

The house is silent except
for the crackling furnace pondering
should I turn on or remain off.

Will she need heat this night
or will she toss the coverings off
with window wide open
only to awake chilled to the bone.

Ahhh, the conversation unspoken
with furnace, the giver of heat
and one fixture that I rely upon.

Snow Day !

Wowzers, nearing two feet of the white shite so far and it’s still coming down. The “front” is coming from Texas and we know their motto is “go big or go home” and this is certainly big !

I must admit I’m happy to see the snow. The garden needed the covering badly. Insulation from these frigid temperatures always helps plants to make it through and besides just saying Snow Day! leaves me giggling. Memories of those snowsuits, bound so tight all we could do was to waddle, and of course licking snow from mittens no matter the colour ;)

Me thinks I’m mellowing and have grasped this with an oooommmm attitude. After all we can’t change the weather so why sweat it. With this in mind I left for work an hour early, best to have the road to one self in these conditions, where one doesn’t need to worry about how snow savvy the other drivers are. Besides it leaves the parking lot clear so I can spin doughnuts. O come on now it’s such a right of passing in a blizzard.

Arriving home after the work was done, I wondered lets see how Goldie does and gave it the gusto. She has never failed me but I hhhmmmmed as I backed into the drive and swerved right then left while she sought traction. Come on girl! And she did resting in right where I aimed. We done did good.

As I now watch the snow blow horizontally covering the Northern Juncos at the feeder, the aroma of an all dressed pizzzzzzza and a warm goblet await me. I shall wait for Dale to put put put up the street with his snow blower, all the while sitting back with comfies on and watching Mother Natures’ storms blow over the landscape just like the days of old when Snow Day meant just that.

Cleanse - Haiku

coconut scrub soap

lathers softly in my hands

glow returns to skin

inhale and exhale

stress of hectic work world

vanishes in breath

on this winters night

salutations to the stars

brings peace to this soul

I AM a Thrifty Gardener

This story begins on a chilly October Saturday in 2010. I was preparing dinner and surfing channels when I came across Recreating Eden, one of my all time favourite shows. Listening to the narrator introduce the focus of the show I dropped the spatula and scurried to the living room where I sat and listened. The interviewee was Marjorie Harris, an authority of gardening in Canada.


I was captivated with Marjorie’s words. Thinking to myself she gets it ! She really gets it ! Gardening is tending and nurturing plants but it is creative as well, yessssssssssss. I felt as if my garden designs had been validated. I am a creator! What a breath of fresh air she was in that interview.

Performing a quick search I found her web site, fired off a quick email thanking her for being her. A few hours later I was stunned that Marjorie had replied. Wow, here’s a woman who is inundated with work and she took the time to respond. That really, how should I say, blew me away.

We corresponded for months and she told me about her latest book project of thrifty gardening and I thought do I have some suggestions for you! So I picked me brain and explained in great detail of what I’ve done over the years to make mine that special place, my own Eden.

I won’t explain them all but if you look on page 211 at Summer Sails and wonder what do they look like here is a photo……

I recommend her book Thrifty Gardening to anyone tending to a present garden or those pondering what ever shall I do to turn this derelict corner into a place of enjoyment. The wealth of knowledge amazes me and even I’ve learned a few things. ;)

P.S. Being rather thrilled with my contributions they are also found on other pages. Thank you Marjorie for spreading the dirt on thrifty gardening.

Dusk - Haiku

Wander through dusk at Haiku Heights

Script - Haiku

letters bound with love

now vacant of emotion

invisible ink

invisible ink

longs for the touch of parchment

words scribbled anew

words scribbled anew

upon floating origami

script ends with serif

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