Oddments

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Connections: November 22.17

With apologies to Laura Ingalls Wilder, I have dubbed my new home The Little House on the Retention Pond. This is the view from my back door. The previous owner graciously left her swing.

I use the word “home” guardedly. It isn’t home yet. But I am doing the first thing to make it a home: bubbling celery and onion in butter, and simmering giblets. Ah, stuffing.

When I first visited this place and saw the retention pond, my immediate thought was ICK. My second thought was MOSQUITOES! Third, maybe I should see the inside.

But once I’d been glared at by herons and snubbed by ducks, I began to feel I’d been hasty. And once I saw the reflections of the neighbors’ lights at night and the reflections of the day’s lights at dawn, I felt I owed the pond an apology. This little drop of water knows how to throw light around. And I’m a sucker for anything that sparkles.

I don’t know yet if my family will be here for Thanksgiving. What I do know is that I will have turkey and stuffing. And, if I can find the can opener (so far, no luck), I will have canned cranberry sauce. If my family comes, they will bring assorted side dishes which will be served atop festive packing boxes, artfully arranged. The shining water outside will be nicely echoed by the shining plastic drop cloths inside, the ultimate in gracious slip-and-trip living.

Meanwhile, I intend that reflecting is something we will do together, the pond and I.

Happy Thanksgiving, dear reader, from The Little House on The Retention Pond!

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Connections: October 28.17

The hen with the turquoise tail

and watchful ruby eye

busily bustles about

in no way subtle or shy.

Incredulous, unbelieving,

clucking at all she sees

hustling up and down stairs

with never an if-you-please,

she gathers each mote of gossip

slack-jawed, open-beaked,

around and about the condos

astonished and endlessly piqued.

 

 

More thanks to the S.W. Berg photo archives,

and to the D.J. Berg store of whimsy.

 

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Connections: March 1.17

2017-02-07-frozen-crow-dl%0d%0a-verginThis forlorn and crabby crow

adorned in German springtime snow

in silent cold indignity

looks a lot like cheerless me.

March tornadically announced

last night its roaring lion pounced

winter’s beauty not denied

 I prefer the lamb’s springtide.

Thanks to the Dianna Vergin Photo Archives.

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