Garden

Garden
Garden1

Friday, February 14, 2014

Winter being what it is here in St. Louis right now my yard is covered with a blanket of white, no gardening to be done. I did have an inspiration to write a poem about what goes on in my yard year round.

Squirrels

I have this love/hate relationship
with squirrels. I hate that they
mess with my bird feeder
and yet I love seeing them
scamper across my yard
tails swishing as in the
chant my daughter taught me.
We use their name in derogatory
ways as in squirreling away
our treasures or how a person
might be acting squirrely or is
just plain squirrely. And now
I'm working on retrieving
the already shelled peanuts
in my stash, the ones that
slip down into the mass of
those still in their shells.
It hits me like an acorn from
a stately oak, I'm no better,
no worse than a squirrel myself.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

The view outside my window this second day of the new year inspired me to write about it.

 Other than the few potted plants I brought inside my gardening is on hiatus. Sadly, the parsley plant didn't make it. Evidently it didn't have enough recuperation time outside after those caterpillars ate all its leaves. I did bring in my bay leaf plant and it's struggling. If I can keep it going through the cold months it should have a better go next spring and I won't have to buy a new plant! I also brought in my thyme and rosemary plants. They're doing very well.

I had an idea for an apron I want to submit to Northern Sun. They've asked for ideas and if I can get my son Tom to help me with the graphics I'll submit it. It has to do with herbs and if it's accepted I'll let you know.

Now for the poem I wrote:

Happy New Year

It's like the frosting on the cake,
the finishing touch, covering up
all the rough edges, the mistakes,
the ugliness that bare spaces announce
without impunity, without grace or style.
The bare bones of nature aren't always
attractive; snow blankets them with
this pristine layer of softness;
a layer of hope that the New Year
will be better than the last.