I learned about how to look after a yard from my father. I watched him trim hedges, regularly mow and rake grass, trim cedar hedges, plant pansies purchased at the May Fair, turn on the sprinkler. The result was an orderly lawn on a small city lot. Now, a country field surrounds my house. It teaches me to question convention…to let go and appreciate natural rhythms, both wild and orderly. Every year I discover new plants and see new waves of growth….this year, fields of yellow dandelions preceded dazzling white daisies trimmed with red clover.
I woke up to the sound of chuckling rain. what a relief, a break from the urgent calls of the sun: come fork mounds of straw off the garden beds! come plant seeds–it’s early spring! come let the seedlings under indoor lamps breathe outside air! come out to mow the grass! I raise the blind and see young blades rising from the earth … they’ll be twice as hard to mow after their feast but what can I do? my body has rebelled, compelled me to rest and so I must.
put to the test again
Later sunlight returns, fresh leaflets shimmer, birds twitter…no be-twixt and between for them…nor for the cardinal calling from the highest branch.
Kitty cat purrs
Sprawled on resting legs
taking it easy
Today Lillian at dVerse invites us to write any kind of poem incorporating two or more brand names. I chose the chocolate category: Chuckles (chuckling rain), Mounds (mounds of straw), Twix (be-twixt) and Kit-Kat (kitty cat). I folded these references into a haibun about my current experience of spring. I am also linking to Haikai Challenge #33: spring rain.
The red-domed lady bug makes its way around the edge of the washroom sink. Lower down, near the drain, another one shuffles. I find a piece of paper and lift the second one to a safer place on the window sill. Then I reach for my toothbrush and toothpaste and turn on the tap. What do these tiny bugs feel I wonder. Do they suffer like us if overwhelmed by a torrent of running water?