first day of April

snowmelt. rain. every morning we step out onto a new road: frozen, muddy, puddly, dry…. I wonder what D makes of it all. How does his canine mind absorb these transformations?

spring floods . . .

how did the puddle become?

a lake



©️2023 Ontheland

Dear Reader:

As its title suggests this post originated earlier in the month but due to a variety of factors it didn’t manage to graduate from ‘draft’ to ‘published’. Since early April we’ve had a mini summer, frost, and now it’s in between. Happy Poetry Month!


along a gravel road

My feet are tender but I wear boots and walk slowly when I take D out for his early morning pee. I go with him for all of his constitutionals these days as he has developed a knee problem. Under ‘doctor’s orders’ he has to limit his activities though spring calls out to him to wander and explore.

towhee, towheee’

rippling under morning sun

the shrinking snow



©️2023 Ontheland

through the haze – – haibun

growing up, autumn was a season of flaming maples…the area where I live now is populated by conifers so change shows up differently . . . in rusty grasses, late wildflowers, low angles of light. As winter draws close, colour and sound soften to a hush.

autumn sky

a wash of blue berries

on the juniper

©️2021 Ontheland

November 21, 2021

What’s in a name?

I notice the scalloped leaf edges, how each leaf attaches to the base of a flower stem. I see a royal lady’s collar and remember a name: ‘Lady’s Mantle’.

border plant

imagining a story

for her name

I later read that a ‘mantle’ is not a collar, but a sleeveless cloak. The name Lady’s Mantle was inspired by the leaves. It refers to their resemblance to a scalloped cloak shown in images of the Virgin Mary.

lady’s mantle

her royal collar holds

a cluster of stars

©️2021 Ontheland

COVID winter – – haibun

the news is a cacophony of stress … more COVID variants, more positive tests, more deaths, talk of ICU triage guidelines, and the vaccine rollout slowing to a trickle. What can I say? What can I do?

deep snow

on the deck and

it’s still snowing

But who wants to read gloomy observations? Most of us are wanting to be soothed, to forget.


blue mittens

the colour of spring

©️2021 Ontheland

scrabble – – haibun

Another day at home for the two of us and the dogs. The wind knocks over a shovel on the porch and 55 pound Diesel barrels across the floor barking urgently. The other two dogs chime in, their madness continuing as snow blows its quiet storm.



playing scrabble

from opposite ends of the room

on smart phones



©️2021 Ontheland

January 14, 2021 – – haibun

As another grey day winds down, I hide in a new writing corner. This is my first, and hopefully, last pandemic winter. Last year, the infamous 2020, covid 19 may have been lurking in January, but no whistle had been blown. It wasn’t until mid-March on the cusp of spring that the World Health Organization declared a world pandemic.

Cold, damp, and dry, winter is our flu season, the time people typically get colds and flu so it is no surprise that COVID numbers are skyrocketing. I have been staying home but as of today it’s mandatory in Ontario…the pressure on society and the suffering of many is palpable, my salvation being gratitude for food, shelter, a home and so far, good health.

COVID winter

in the deep freeze dreaming

a Pfizer jab



©️2021 Ontheland

the visit – – haibun

The other day I was towelling off after a shower when I noticed a shape at the window. I lifted the curtain and there before me was a white hen. She had clearly wandered from someone’s coop. With a gaze, both casual and intense, she pecked at the glass as if she wanted to come in. Though unsuccessful in finding her owner, we found a family willing to add her to their flock.



winter night

I wonder about

the visiting hen



©️2021 Ontheland