Celtic circle

 

_{half an arc}

_{buried in snow}

_{the Celtic circle}

_{remains frozen}

_{in earth}

_{until spring}

_{releases it}

_{to become whole}

_{once again}

feast - haiku

 

Mr. Cardinal

arrives in twilight, his own

shadow feasts alone

Whiteness

Snow, white shite, white freckles,

falls this night, silently, effortless

wrapping branches in its whiteness.

As I type the landscape has

become a winter wonderland

in its beauty of softness and purity.

Morning will find me brushing off shovels

after I follow the bunnie prints to its warren,

shrubs have already been nipped so it is near.

In the present Hip Hop resonates

with the drone of jets overhead flying

to Europe as I sigh “take me with you”.

Would I give up winter for warmer climes?

Nah, no way. I’m a child of seasons

needing to savour the joys of each one.

The renewal of life that spring brings,

warmth and blooms of a summer garden,

and Mother Natures autumnal colours.

I’m good :)

It has begun...

It has begun, garden porn is arriving in my mailbox, virtually and physically. O the colours alone of new plants cause me to salivate. The reds, salmons, pinks and saffrons make my heart sing. The hybrids of frilly Peonies, misty Grasses, gigantic, exotic scented Lilies, shredded petalled Dahlias, and shrubs of such variety are tickling me fancy.

This will be the year I remove the grass from the front area and replant in berry laden shrubs that feed birds, sweet nectar filled perennials that feed bees, and my faves that feed me. Home owners waste too much time and money seeking a perfectly green lawn that feeds nothing but their egos.

Mine is currently home to a variety of wildflowers, small in nature, as I like to ease into change and allow wildflowers to take root. There are neighbours who will make a fuss but now I have the time to ummm, persuade them to see it my way ;) And I can bee very persuasive when I need to bee.

Cirque du Squirrels - haiku

suet bird feeder

emptied by acrobatic ,

voracious squirrels 

New Norm?

Days of snow, soon became

days of freezing rain, drizzle and pellets.

In January, in Canada, it is now balmy.

I shudder at this new “norm.”

Years past my garden would be buried,

buried in depths of snow, protecting

plants from cold and sun, and now

I see May violets sprouting.

This day the garden is brown and barren.

There is no snow, no protection,

from the natural elements

and I worry if it will survive.