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

Forgotten

my support from those I believed cared,

is now non existent, as they live their own lives

while I struggle with the reality of being the one

they run to when life deals them a bad card,

always there to comfort and aid during turmoil

yet mine is tossed aside and forgotten,

my heart prints blown away on the winds of time...