Merry Christmas

This time of year we pause to celebrate the beauty of life.

It is all around us if only we make time to live with eyes wide open.

May your Christmas be magical and filled with love and laughter.

Cheryl 

Tag, you're it

There stands on the outskirts of my town a homage to a big cheese created a hundred years ago. It has long been forgotten by the town but I see it every day when I park my car.

Creative souls painted it a few years ago with their own tag. No one has noticed, well almost no one. It sits in silence almost in deference to the so called progression in this town.

Two years ago the same tag was painted on a derelict barn the town owned. No one noticed or at least spoke not a word until one day a so called reporter contacted the town to enquire what it was about. Shortly after the second tag was white washed with a response that it was vandalism and would not be tolerated. Ummm, vandalism? I had to shut me mouth in fear the original would suffer the same fate.

I was tempted to contact the reporter and suggest she investigate the meaning about the first one and its connection to the second, but pondered she doesn't really have a clue about the soul of the town and decided not to just in case this was white washed as well. And so the original still sits in silence.

While I understand some may call it destructive graffiti I have always admired the underground artisans. I relish sitting at the train crossings and seeing the tags, always colourful and full of meanings to the artists, while I attempt to decipher. Rolling Hello's I have named them.

We all want to leave our mark on this world and I believe this is their way. The next time you sit and curse at the crossing, seek the tags and wonder who and why painted them. But most of all smile and nod as you too understand their need for recognition.  

Book - Haiku

thumbed and dog eared books

stacked lovingly in bookshelves,

each one a treasure  

Dreaming of next years garden

Even though the earth has begun to freeze and shovels have replaced furniture I have already begun planning next years garden. It is what gardeners do when the landscape becomes a montage of browns and black.

Next year I'll forgo the traditional Fushia Foray and concentrate on begonia's for the hanging pots. Nursery selection was a huge disappointment and it was a shame because growing conditions, cool and wet, could not have been better. The ones I did find, mostly the lovely Angel Earrings, were heavy feeders needing to be fertilized weekly or they became pots of greenery. That won't do as the garden is planted with every shade of green one can imagine and I want colour on the patio. Cascading colours of blooms so thick hummers will lick their lips in delight at the feast.

I did find one shocking begonia that was hung on the veranda. Blood Red I believe was the name and it trailed a good 4' down, covered in blooms all summer. The flower wasn't a deep red but the backs of the serrated leaves were. I cut it back and now sits in the basement with thoughts of reviving it come spring. Besides that I had the reliable Dragons Wings and it was amazing! Planted in the box below the above Blood Red it grew 3' tall without support and at least that wide. Covered in bright red blooms all summer they were perfect against the brilliant green leaves. I'm not sure how it would do hanging but I know I will fill the boxes with them. Colour baby, me needs colour!

I need more form, especially during winter, and with the canopy of trees blocking out the sun I' shall search for more yews and Japanese maples. Presently I have two types of yew, dense and hicks. The dense's multitude of shades are wonderful and after two years planted by The Pond it is healthy and yes, dense. The hicks were, ummm, end of sale finds, and are growing slowly but add that wanted, nae, needed green when the garden is covered in 3' of white shite. As for the Japanese maples, they became feed for Pooka last winter who dined til only trunks were left. At least he enjoyed them.

    

Another task awaiting me is to bring the bed across The Pond closer. It became more of a planting ground than anything. The stones will be pulled up, ground dug and filled with compost and specimens replanted. I'll probably leave the background row of princes feather there as it does well and relay the stones between it and the new bed. Presently The Pond is framed with flagstone then a bed of lemon penny wort. The chartreuse colour makes it pop, is weed free and the tendrils wind their way across stones and into the water providing froggies with a life line when they can't hop out without exhausting themselves. I know, I know. It has been said to me on more than a few occasions, “seriously Cheryl?” YES seriously, that tis me nature and it is the least I can do for them. Then again I ponder, I provide a safe home, food and all the water they need. Hhmmm...

 I will become more diligent in bug control. I never have and never will use chemicals what fingers and a good soap can accomplish. The penny wort was eaten by worms for the first time. I spent hours picking the green/blue worms off the plants dropping them into a soap filled container. This was after I finally realized what was happening. Once cleared I breathed a sigh of relief only to find it covered again in 3 weeks time. AHA! The buggers ate well and laid eggs. There is something comforting picking evil creatures off plants with the cry of “die ye bastards, die!” Payback is sweet. The plants never recovered but I have faith they will rise again next spring.

Other major problems were slugs and snails due to the wet weather. Never in me life had I seen so many, or the garden decimated as it was, by those slithery creatures. It seemed they chose the new arrivals to kill first then moved on to the more established plants. Hosta's were their primary food source causing me to shout out NOOOOOOOOO on more than one occasion. It wasn't until I was relaxing by The Pond that I put 2 + 2 together after seeing them gathering on the shore. The scene from Fantasia where the brooms and buckets kept multiplying played in me mind when one became two and two became 4. Yikes! It was if bells had rung and they were called for dinner. Slowly they made their way onto the stones then off into the garden. I have learned.

Reflecting it was a good year for the garden, though mostly in spring and early summer. The goats beard grew 5' high, hellebores finally bloomed, fireflies were abundant, and colourful birds found refuge. That's all a gardener can ask for. An Eden for themselves and creatures who find a home.

 

While I stand guard

As daylight descends,

beyond the trees

church spires are back lit

from beams of the sleepy sun.

Shadows are cast,

in the garden

along a known path

a creature sniffs the wind.

Slowly he hops,

towards the remains

of a voracious feed

scattered upon the snow.

Wisps of fur,

are supply outlined

with each moving muscle

as he nibbles slowly.

Pooka has returned,

for the winter

he will dine grandly

while I stand guard.  

Seasons Shroud

seasons shroud fell quietly during the night

strangling the landscape in its death grasp

laying waste from what once was to what is now

One last life

his flesh wrinkled from the cold,

devoid of warmth and nourishment

enfolds upon itself, dry and tight,

following lines of his skeleton,

he prepares for the deep sleep

yet struggles to enjoy one last life

in the sun this chilly autumn day.

samhain

There is a fine line between night and light

as the portal opens during samhain

when souls depart seeking lost loved ones

dancing in the shadows of bonfires.

Weather worn tree branches

create shadows upon the landscape,

gnarled tips reach out to the sky

tempting the solo night flyers

who have escaped the netherworld

braving the light of the night as I.

Were my soul to depart during this eve

I wish it to spark the fire upon the hill

and dance in the flames lighting the sky

warming this soul until early morning light.

Death or Life - Haiku

the battle of death

in a forgotten graveyard,

life is the victor

Happy Samhain  

Look into my eyes

It appears one of the neighbourhood dittie dats has taken a liking to perching herself on the veranda.   At least she coordinates with the pot of mums.   She was trying to play with the hanging glass balls but they are inside.  Silly dittie dat. 

Drum - Haiku

autumns fingertips

thrump in red, orange and yellow,

seasonal heart beats

Follow the beats to Haiku Horizons

She plants

Following a familiar path,

one she could walk with eyes closed,

her trowel in one hand

and a bag of daffies in the other

she pauses at a clump of leaves,

have I planted in this spot,

she ponders.

Stooping to feel the damp earth

her fingers dig into the soil

grasping a handful to determine

it its been worked in the last month,

feeling the hardness of soil.

Deeper and deeper the trowel digs

creating a hole double wide,

bulbs are gently placed into their winter home

closer than instructions instruct, after all

they are written from another continent.

Back filling with sand and home made compost

her tiny feet trample the spot

while the watering can soaks the newly planted

refraining from sticks and signs

leaving the surprise and joy

of a colourful welcome to spring

she believes.  

Mister G. Toadie - Haiku

Mister G. Toadie

emerges from the garden,

belly needs a rub

Mister G. Toadie

emerges from the garden,

cranky isn't the word

Mister G. Toadie

emerges from the garden,

latest camouflage

This fellow has taken up residency in my garden. Bully for him! Mind you I'm a tad ticked because he was no where to be found when the slug invasion took place. Boooooo for him!

Mr. Toadie seems to come and go as he pleases and in a way that pleases me, though I wish he would clean up the garden before gallivanting about.    

Autumns aubusson

The early days of autumn

and leaves twirl and swirl

slowly to the ground

nipped by an early frost,

while a warm breeze blows.

This aubusson carpet

lays upon the garden floor

with leaves of walnut yellow,

purple of red maple, and young maple

all woven from natures loom.

Soft and plump from damp days

they will soon lay themselves

creating a right of autumn

to walk upon crinkling leaves

dried by the waning sun.

No more the soft carpet

of nourished growth and life

filled with nutrients

but the colours of the demise

of our seasons of life.

My lover, my partner, my man

Eyes fluttered open

while I wrapped sheets around me

once more inhaling last nights scent of

my lover, my partner, my man

Looking out to the garden I smiled at

the early morning memories of silken strands

woven through branches glistening in sunbeams,

while frogs slowly appeared at waters edge

to take their place on the warming stones.

McChippie quietly scurried back and forth

his cheeks stuffed with ripened apples,

unafraid of us sitting and chuckling at his bravado.

Birdsong greeted us; geese flying overhead

were met with “go back! It's too soon”

as nuthatches and finches added to the chorus.

We eased into the day with steaming mugs,

smiling faces and bliss in our souls

my lover, my partner, my man and me.

Branches - Haiku

this harvest full moon

casts its otherworldly glow,

naked branches dance

Branch out to Haiku Horizons  

300th Pondering

Well, Blogger is telling me I have 299 postings or as I prefer ponderings, so I thought the next better be a good one. 300 in seven years. Who would have thought when I created this blog I would still be tacka tacka tacking after seven years. In fact this is me first post by The Pond. I kid you not. Pondering today I thought alrighty Cheryl why not take the lappie out and write instead of journalling then wandering away to do something else. And so I have. I have actually remained in one place! The battery is “suppose” to last 6 hours and it will be dark in 3 so I figure I'm safe. Mind you in this light I see way too many peanut butter smears and crumbs so a good cleaning is in store. See what I mean about wandering. Now on to the celebration.

I built The Pond 12 years ago when I became bored with my garden. As most gardeners do, they reach a certain point where they need to dig, realign a border, transplant one area to another. Tis a terrible disease we suffer from but we do recover only when we dig again. We are creators after all. A garden is about nourishing and growth and mine had reached its pinnacle so it was time for something new. Gardeners should never be bored ;)

The Pond has brought me such joy and a renewed respect for Mother Nature and her hissy fits. As a woman I can relate. I've watched frogs be reborn in spring after hibrination, a wee snapper seeking solace from the tumultuous river, to the most colourful birds bringing their babies in for a bath. It's a playground for creatures and one I highly recommend for anyone with a garden. Get thee a pond! Or a birdbath, any thing to draw in nature and your soul will be rewarded.

When I created Ponderings from The Pond it was a site where I could e-mail the link to friends and family so I wouldn't make them wonder what's she gotten into now with midnight e-mails from The Princess of The Pond. Unfortunately for them I had figured out how to change me e-mail ID and had a wee of a time with it. I'm sure there are a few classics still residing in In-boxes or WTF Folders, and you know who you are.

As I sit here I'm surrounded with soft chortles from wee frogs bouncing off the water lettuce, the crickets chorus or Chanson des Cigalles along the fence, the bbbbrrrrrrrrrrrrr of Petit La Rouge warning Black Bart not to steal anymore of his stashed walnuts; and McChipster running through me feet gathering apples. Not one lawn mower is running this eve, though it's early and neighbour OMD hasn't arrived after his shift. But he is another story.

I was new to blog land but soon picked up a few followers. I delighted in their comments and I soon learned how to comment in return. It wasn't easy with an out of date pooter and a rotary connection (between 6 and 7pm was the best time when everyone was off line and having supper as I told meself) but I continued on. I miss those mates, June from Oz who declared me a “strong poet” that took me by surprise as I've always said I just ponder; Eric from Ruminations who soon became a good blogging buddy; and Speedy, o the fun we had; Robert who is an amazing poet but doesn't realize it; Dan who wrote the most wonderful senryu; Cath another wonderful poet; Ray who painted a portrait of me after reading one haiku and that painting resides in me home; and I will never forget Khaled's poem when a Ladybug whispered to him. They were great support but sadly have disappeared and so I refuse to update my followers list in a way it's to pay homage to them.

One woman who has been with me from day one is Michelle at RamblingWoods. We still go back and forth and anyone who reads this I ask you to visit her site. She is an amazing woman with more information about nature then you will ever be able to comprehend. Thelma Mossy on the side bar comes from Michelle and in a way it's spot on. Thank you Michelle for being here.

I've joined a few sites over the years but after a disastrous to do I learned to approach with caution. I gave it me all but it was not to be. I felt I wrote a few momentous tales with its prompts but after asking for payment to post, that ship went down in flames. That was such a sad day and a lesson learned. A haiku site I was involved with ceased and deleted all previous links, which was a shame. I felt contributors were tossed aside as if we were dirt. Haiku Horizons is one I feel at home with. Robert has picked up the gauntlet and laid it at our feet. Thank you.

One of the positive notes is I self published a book last year. Ponderings from The Pond given to family and friends. It contains most of this blog but other poetry and tales as well. That was a true labour of love and took me nearly a year to make it just right. I was near blind editing and re-editing and re-re-editing it and still a few oopsies were made. Though it cost me dearly I have never regretted it. It's a part of me, and copies reside in the National Library of Canada. Me and me ponderings will live on after I'm physically gone.

I now look out at the garden and sigh, I will miss this in a few months. There is such greenery from hostas, ferns, violas, goats beard, toad lillies, penny worts to name only a few. Colour is far and few between but that's me nature in the garden. As long as it is green I will inhale. The only true colour is in spring when daffy's bloom and laugh at the sun, other than that mine is one of ooommm, a calming garden. I need that after the day, where I can relax and breath besides Miss Moss is me name after all.

After 7 years which way I think Ponderings will sail? Only straight forward, onward and upwards as I say. As a fan of animation there is a great scene from Peter Pan where their ship sails through the clouds and I am always in awe when I see it. So as long as I breath there will be posts, some far and few between but I always check in. I envy those who post every day. How do you find the time?

I have great ideas and photographs for posts but after spending 8 hours working with pooters then tending the house and garden I am pooped. Ponderings will remain posted on weekends when I have time. Then again winter will soon be here and the forecast is for a long snowy winter. Am I happy? Hell no but that is life at The Pond.

First sign of Autumn

The past two mornings I haven't been able to enjoy me tea on the patio. Petite la Rouge had been busy in the Walnut tree canopy sending a barrage of ripe walnuts down. Unless I donned a hard hat and shoulders pads I wasn't about to suffer the smacks, and they do hurt.

Yesterday I collected and piled nearly two dozen onto an old park bench at the rear of the garden.  Out of harms way but mostly my own. Tis not a pleasant way to begin the day tripping and spraining an ankle or two.

Earning afternoon I could hear nattering and munching coming from that direction so took a walk around. There he was having a jolly old feast. The pile was nearly gone when I spied him sampling and scurrying off to lay in provisions for the winter that may be here sooner then we like.

Makes one wonder, which one of us is more intelligent. Me for picking and stacking in one easy to get to location, or him knowing I will provide an all you can eat buffet in one convenient place. In other words who has whom trained, hhhmmmmm.  

Shadows

Shadows appear early

this waning summers night

enticed by the chorus of crickets

to dance in the warm breeze.

How they change

in this subtle light, fading

til they become one with the night,

lost until tomorrows morning light.

    

Sometimes I just wonder...

Not to long ago Squeak was in awe of the Frog King.  These days not so much.   I've given up trying to understand how they think, they just be.  

Haiku for a late summers eve

subtle songs of warmth

surround the scribe as she sits

chorus of crickets

wild cucumber vines

cascade over neighbours hedge

pods ripe for ambush

worm slowly appears

out of a crevice near The Pond

Pips dinner arrives

heart beat slows to pause

while Bachs cello serenades

peace in my garden

rippled hosta leaves

create shadows in sunbeams

sculpture of nature

sultry summers eve

sleep arrives easily in tune

with crickets and frogs

Pip and Squeak

Heavy rains from last week washed a couple of new friends into The Pond. Just what Froggo needed, companionship of a more 4 legged kind.

This is Pip. He's the cutttttttttttttttttest wee frog I've ever seen. Light brown in colour he's pictured here next to a 'skidder to show his teeny weeney itsey bitsey size. He is small enough to sit on a quarter. 

Next up is Squeak. Why the name? Because he squeaks of course! The only one to produce any kind of sound. Mostly he squeaks jumping into and out of the water, but I'll take it. He seems to be staring at King Frog wondering if he'll ever grow as big. Who knows what goes on in their brains.

Content - Haiku

hot sultry evening

my path lit by fireflies

content, i now sleep

Feel contented at Haiku Horizons

Imperial Moth

Twas a warm and rainy day, the kind where you walked with head down to avoid getting wet.  Unless you have an umbrella it doesn't happen so might as well walk with eyes wide open. On this particular day I'm glad I did walk with eyes downcast or I would have missed this beauty.  

Sweet heavens!  This moth was sheltered on a step doing its best to hide from the rain. When I saw it I stood in awe, seriously stood and stared.  What creature could this be I pondered.  The call went out and Judy recognized it as an Imperial Moth.  I have never seen such colours before and I've spent a lot of time in woods but this one was in an industrial area of town.  

Perhaps blown in by the wind its beauty will remain with me forever.  I can't express how speechless I was seeing this lovely.  I exhaled and smiled forgetting the day and gave thanks for the glory of nature. 

P.S.  Another was found the next day.  It had spots on its wings instead of stripes.  And if you zoom in you will see the rain drops on its cloak.  

Moonbeams - Haibun

This eve, this eve of the super full moon

keeps me out waiting and wanting

to soak in his glorious moonbeams.

I've seen the beginning, the subtle shine

in my windows, tempting me to spend

all night winking at him, while he

winks in return, under the bower of leaves.

His other worldly glow illuminating the garden

casting shadows where nights past there

had been none, only outlines of shrubbery.

this July's full moon

illuminates night sky path

moon beams through star fields

First Summers Eve

Summers first sun set in a warm glow

wrapping itself in the cool breeze

and both take their leave to a warmer clime,

now not a leaf or petal moves

this first night, nor the water plants

skim across The Pond are being

chased by gleaming golden orbs.

It's a part of me to be out doors,

even as a child I remember mum

calling long after darkness descended,

“Cheryl! Time to come in, NOW!”

After silence and non appearance

my sister would be quizzed where is she?,

“I don't know look up a tree!”

was the usual give your head a shake reply.

I've been outside most of this month,

reviving the garden, breathing fresh air,

and pondering even as rain fell.

But tonight every living being is still

perhaps resting this summer night

after such a glorious spring

where their growth was unmatched

at least in this gardeners eyes.

As night creeps in I curl up on the chaise

patiently waiting for natures night lights

to appear, yet I'm memorized by

the reflection of candles over still water.

Reflections creating shadows in the garden

and noises from creatures yet to be determined

but for now I decide to let them be.

While my eyes flutter I take one last look

at the sky searching for stars to poke

through cloud cover, one, two, three,

their sparkles begin to show.

Counting stars I gasped as a tiny light

blinked on, off, on, off, as it followed

along the roof top. Heaven! He found me!

I'm happy and shall find me bed,

tis a night for dreamers such as I

and therefore bid thee adieu until daylight. 

Drift - Haiku

o to be a frog

floating on summer breezes,

adrift in his thoughts

Drift over to Haiku Horizons

Feed ME !!!

Early this month I found a broken blue eggshell in the garden. Thinking crows had been nest raiding I tossed it aside with a sigh, scanning branches for just one sign of life. It wasn't until the week past when they made their presence known with their soft squeaks from the treetops. Two young robins kept their parents searching from sun up to sun down for food.

After a few hours Saturday they finally accepted me in “their” domain planting this, pruning that, and digging up a bountiful feast while their parents watched from above. A flick of the wrist, a flutter of wings, and soon there would be a juicy worm dangling from a parents mouth while the chicks opened wide. A cacophony of FEED ME! NO FEED ME! 

One of them roosted on a branch over the pergola, watching me intently trying to blend in. It didn't fool me because I could still hear the squeaks and clucks from empty tummies. It was a busy day that began at sunrise and didn't end until after dark when the chickies were tucked in to their nest for a good nights sleep. I wonder when mum and dad find their own downtime.

Present - Haiku

celestial gift
of suspended peony,
flower full moon


Tonight the Flower Full Moon unfolds.
After this difficult and long winter 
it is truly a present being in the present
when earth awakes to offer us her bounty. 

Seek the present at Haiku Horizons

Ring - Haiku

whispers in the glen
entice dreamers to the dance,
faerie ring twinkles 

Feel the Ring at Haiku Horizons 

Hellllooooooooooo Hellebores

At last! After years and years of buying, planting, and babying, the latest Hellebore’s have bloomed. I purchased three autumn past at a nursery clearance and came hell or high water, I was determined to see them in bloom this spring. They didn't let me down.

Mind you I coddled them like new born babes. Ensuring they had lots of water to begin the deep sleep with along with mounds of leaves and soil. The plants survived the horrendous winter which was a shocker to me after being buried by 4' of the white shite in the Celtic Circle.

When it finally melted, their leaves appeared sharp and green. I checked just about every day and finally spotted purplish buds tucked down in the centre of the leaf crown. Dancing about I tickled the tiny buds whispering words of encouragement. Or it may have been “bloom! Or off to the composters you go as I've had enough of your teasing!” Whichever tactic I used they listened.

This beauty is Winter Sunshine as are the other two. The specs states it's sterile, poor things, so me thinks I'll be replanting them all together this autumn to keep each other company. Now that I know they will bloom for me I'll be on the lookout for ones of yellows, and cremes. Maybe toss in a few apricots and pale pinks, for good measure. I have a feeling these won't be my last, o indeedie no they won't be.  

Sound - Haiku

trilling spring peepers

once silent in rivers mud,

keep pace with heart beats

a Ladybug tiptoes

across warm earth now nourished,

sprigs hear her footsteps

skeletons of leaves

tumble over the garden,

their lives echoing

Follow the sounds to Haiku Horizons

It's Here !!!

Close - Haiku

twilight's velvet cloak

transmutes days curtain of light,

nearby, fireflies wake

Get close at Haiku Horizons

Home - Haiku

with warmth from the sun

water flows as earth awakes,

my soul returns home

Travel home to Haiku Horizons

Trip - Haiku

summer breezes blow

a thousand drops of water,

journey of ripples

Take a trip to Haiku Horizons.

Super Suction

I fancy meself as a do it yourself woman taking great pride in getting things done. However there are certain things that leave me perplexed and wanting. Not so much for the knowledge but having the right tools. O I have a tool box, one filled with pretty coloured screwdrivers. Don't ask me to hand you a Phillips or a Robertson but state the colour, thank you. Colours I understand.

There came a time when the kitchen sink drained to no where. Bombs of vinegar and baking soda did nothing; the super duper snake, with a crank no less, did nothing; nor did swearing. I decided this wouldn't beat me and Utubed videos of how to unclog a drain. It's amazing what one can find on the net, (with out pop ups).

The area underneath was cleared out, bucket at the ready, instructional video streaming and I set about it. Pipes came apart easily and drained into the bucket, ahhhhhh, that was easy I thought. Then I set about reattaching. Hhmmm, it didn't fit no matter which way I tried. So I sat cross legged on the kitchen floor twisting the pipe with hands on both ends, pondering what's wrong with this picture.

As I twisted the pipe in aggravation it began to move. I sat there staring at it, twisting back it back and forth, finally dropping it and ran to the lappie thinking I gotta Google this! Aha! It comes apart! I found the links and twisted like a banshee in withdrawal and voila! Now I could fit it all back together and enjoy the superb sound of super suction in the drain.

Wellllllllll, after reattaching, running the taps, watching water sit, detaching, clearing, reattaching a few times, running water again, I finally gave up knowing the clog was in the wall, not the drain pipe and no matter what I did, I wasn't going to fix it. This clog was BIG and me simple tools were no match. It wasn't something I enjoyed admitting but I did, sigh.

The next day I hiked up the big girl panties and called the local plumber. We have an ummm, errrrr, relationship. The admin answered with “what's buggered up now Cheryl?” Doncha love call display. I explained me predicament and asked to have the lads bring the mega clog bomb over and of course the key is in the mailbox. Note to self: I should have a key cut for them.

Leaving for work I left a detailed letter of what I did, and thanked Tom or Mike or John or Derek, collectively known as Dear Super Sucker, for making the time to help me. Later that day I arrived home and found the bucket filled with black water and crud, footsteps to the basement and a scribble of “you're good to go now” on the letter.

It's still draining with that super suction sound that I've come to signify with a pure pipe. But still ponder how odd simple things makes a person smile, either that or I really need to get a life or a house husband. Hhmmm....

Sand - Haiku

pony tailed hippies

struggle to maintain warm feet,

woolly socks in sand-als         

Feel the sand under your feet at Haiku Horizons 

Froggies need nom nom

It is said everyone has a familiar, an entity sworn to assist a special one in their practice, but sometimes life unfolds in an unusual way no matter the vibes one emotes. This is a tale of one of my many special moments at The Pond.

It unfolded last summer, a wet summer, when lakes and rivers overflowed. With that damp season, creatures which normally settled were nearly vacant. Except for three, fondly named Frogue, Frag and the wee one Frick. Frogue was the male and could be found sitting proudly on the right, Frag, the female took up her position on the left near the bird bath. I still can't figure that out.

The Pond is app. 8' x 6' and two feet deep at the centre, lots of room for floating and swimming but she decided she had to be next to the bird bath, a clay bowl on the edge just for birds. Perhaps she was staking out her claim, as if she was the overlord. But I knew better, it wasn't she.

Midsummer the tiniest of frogs hopped in and stayed and so I named him Frick. He could sit on a twoonie and there would still be room. I have to say awwwww as you would too when you saw him. He was just that cuuuuuuutttttte.

In August I had a major recon, the patio was rebuilt with beautiful flagstone, earth tones as befitting. During this time the triumvirate hopped into the flower beds in daylight and remained until the stone mason left. They would return to resume their positions once the coast was clear.

The final weekend of upheaval and I was knelt digging up old roots so I could replant. Frag was nearby. I dug up a worm, looked at her, said bonnie appetite, tossed it her way and went about digging. Another one was unearthed, moved onto the trowel and again, tossed her way. She swallowed them whole. The third time, I looked sideways, instead of just tossing to the left, and she was two feet from me. I'm sure I saw a tongue flick and I tossed it her way.

After this I sat back, surveyed the six eyes glaring at me and said out loud to no one “right, this is too weird for even me”. I gathered up my tools, brushed off and sat upon my throne. The looks continued but at least I was on a higher level. They continued to stare til the last candles were extinguished and I found my bed. The frog songs began and continued throughout the night and I closed my eyes smiling.

Mother Nature is Cranky ... again

We are fools, watching and waiting

with our spades and forks held high

for this endless seasonal struggle

between winter and spring

to end with spring the victor.

I sit with garden porn on my lap

shuddering at Mother Natures

onslaught ravishing the landscape.

The asphalt of the drive seen yesterday,

the first since November, is no longer

in view, swallowed by the white shite

blowing in from the north, swallowing

all in its path, suffocating every living being.

I ponder, could it be my own emotions

causing this, the will to live again

against the crushing feel of neglect

and so I lash out and call to her

to allow me feel, but for one moment,

the torment in others, unbeknownst

to them, that they have caused in my life. 

Return - Haiku

in springs warm sunrise

feathers glow at journey's end,

red breasted robin 

Please visit Haiku Horizons for more returns.

Scrap - Haiku

remnants for freedom

colourful cloth grasps the wind

Tibetan prayer flags

Follow the wind to Haiku Horizons