a window of memory: haibun

The wood fire, a girl guide log cabin lay, is a miracle of flame and heat in a deep pit of snow. Bundled trekkers huddle in the dappled clearing knee deep in fresh powder. Our frozen faces, fingers and toes tingle as the long day winds down with a winter cookout, a WINTER cookout, how amazing are these foil packets we cradle in our hands!

hot s’mores

at trail end

sweet melts in snow

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A s’more is campfire treat of roasted marshmallow on chocolate between graham crackers.

My haiku, that concludes this haibun, appears with others on the theme of ‘taste’ in Kathy Munro’s November 14, 2018 post on Troutswirl: “A sense of place: HIKING TRAIL – taste”.

©️2018 Ontheland

on a winter trail: haiku

Happy to be included today on Troutswirl’s A Sense of Place: Hiking Trail — smell:

winter hike
wrapped in a knitted scarf
the smell of wet wool


In ‘real’ time we are not wrapping wool scarves around our faces yet, but this is a sensation renewed for me almost every year…when the thermometer dips below freezing and the only way to seal out a winter wind is to wrap a scarf.

©️2018 Ontheland

recipe for coming out of winter hibernation

Drink hot soup tomato red
this February night.
Burn a candle flame.
Winter blood still
bathes chilled joints.
Newborn microbes
dance unseen.
Wear wool to hug the skin,
Breathe to clear dry lungs.
We are defrosting,
departing from winter hibernation.
Spring barely has begun.


A message from 44º North, 76º West for dVerse Poet’s Pub. We are quadrilling “burn” tonight.

©2018 Ontheland

for Haibun Monday

My hair silvers at the temples and falls out in long white strands. It was brown, then dark dark brown and now…I wonder if my hair is thinning…..my mother’s hair was always blonde….different shades of blonde…she made sure of that.  And now my plumage changes. What will leave and what will stay?

old robin flies

in late winter grey

white down catches light

©2018 Ontheland



In this haibun I blend a story about hair with my recent sightings of robins.  Reading about these birds I discovered that some robins live five years or more if they survive their first year.  I am fairly certain that the robins in my yard stayed here for the winter, perhaps feasting on the abundant juniper berries. Their signature red breasts and white plumage on throats and under tails brighten up the landscape. The above photo, from Pixabay, is an American Robin.  Many thanks to Bjorn at dVerse for his Haibun Monday prompt: The beauty and the misery of grey.

more orange!


When the world becomes a snow globe, it’s time to make soup.  The sun is rising earlier, days are longer and everyone is talking about spring, but it’s still freezing cold.

In the fall I buy large and small pumpkins and line them up on the counter.  Their brilliant orange cheers my spirits. Two days ago, in cold February, I cut up my second last pumpkin and made a huge pot of soup with ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, cumin and coriander.

Five spice aroma

warms last nights of winter

Is this early spring?


©2018 Ontheland