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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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
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
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.
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.
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 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 ;)
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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?
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.
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.
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
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
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
rains from last week washed a couple of new friends into The Pond.
Just what Froggo needed, companionship of a more 4 legged kind.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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).
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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....
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
Elvis lives at an alpaca farm near me. Tis true! Just look at the comb over that would cause Donald Trump to shiver in envy. Those lips, my my my, Mick Jagger would drool. And those eyes, o heavens, to loose oneself in those and never awake. I wonder if town by-laws classifies alpaca's as pets or live stock. hhmmmm, I shall ponder...
Like your favorite flooded cave, your kindness is deep. You have a strong work ethic and are not afraid to hop to it to get the job done. Far from a flaky frog, you don’t jump to conclusions. Ever since you were a tadpole, you’ve been easygoing and likeable and are a good leader without being mossy, so other frogs lean on you without knowing it. Thanks to Michelle at Rambling Woods :)
Tsk tsk tsk
Ponderings From The Pond are from this mind. Photos are views from my lenses unless noted. I retain copyright on my words and my photos and may not be replicated elsewhere without prior written permission. Ponderings from prompts are acknowledged.