Oddments

In search of story

Category Archives: bugs


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July 3.19

Once upon a time

I was so very small

I played in a hydrangea

to me sequoia tall;

above me peeked the sky

through rosy lattice dome,

so magical the place

I wanted never to go home.

I slid down baby leaves

bright green and paper thin,

rappeled on threads of silk,

then climbed back up again.

Parasols of petals

became my firmament

as I lolled in axel cubby

daydreaming, content.

But I felt a tingling change

back to my normal size

and had to hitch a ride

with a pair of dragonflies.

I scarcely could believe

what I saw with my own eyes,

but how frabjous the adventure

you may easily surmise.

 

 

Did you know, dear reader, that tomorrow is Alice in Wonderland Day?

I didn’t either.

Usually I’m thanking S.W. Berg for his photo. This photo is mine, but the reminder to celebrate Alice in Wonderland Day is from him. So thanks, Bill. It’s good to remember that a world of absurdities is nothing new.

 


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July 2.19

I am Gardener:

hear me growl.

Voracious brigands

sneak and prowl.

They come by land,

they come by air,

hordes on wing

and hordes from lair.

My harvest shrinks

with every hour

as they attack,

englut, devour.

Coneflowers! Moss roses!

My zinnia patch!

Impatiens! Basil!

Down the hatch!

I mix and sprinkle,

shake and douse;

my garden fragrance

l’eau d’outhouse.

Instead of blooms

and flowering vines,

all I see

are dollar signs.

 

 


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June 18.19

When orange lights on lavender,

it lacks in subtlety,

grandiose theater

its winged proclivity.

It urgently upstages

in drama quintessential,

pageant symbiotic,

brilliant, existential.

 

National Pollinator Week, June 17-23

More thanks to photographer S.W. Berg,

and to the pollinators — may we bless and keep them!


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Disconnections: August 10.18

When your plumbing’s contrary

your car’s in the shop

the travails of the world

are over the top

you’re always on hold

and a half-inch behind

words and your keys

keep slipping your mind

the robocalls pester

the outlook is dour,

call a time-out

and go watch a flower.

 

I do realize that not all life’s problems are so easily airbrushed, and not everyone has a flower to watch, and I wish it were otherwise. But the other day this happened to me. I was utterly out of patience and stormed out to the back, and there was this gorgeous, tranquil little being, totally absorbed in the zinnias. Imagine being hit so hard by calm.

 

 


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Musings on wild life: February 1.18

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

That, as you may remember, was my mother’s incantation on the first of every month. I’m not sure why except for the twelve rabbits’ feet involved.

I am not enamored of rabbits, as you know if you’ve read my blog for a while. They are the garden’s Visigoths and nothing can withstand their onslaught. Here, in the wee hours of one winter morning, by the light of the lamppost, I spotted one of their kind. It was huge. And obviously reconnoitering. Duly noted, you furry pig!

I am equally not enamored of Canadian geese, as you also know from my blog. They, however, are enamored of this retention pond. Why Mother Nature, who came up with the song of the lark and the wren, invented the honk of the goose is explainable only in terms of her caustic sense of humor.

Then, of course, the ants. Oh, they keep on a-comin’. At first in my desk. Now along the baseboard and up through the furnace vent in the dining room. Yesterday I was out in the cold mud dousing the side of my new house with Home Defense. In January? Really?

Having lived in California, I know about ants, which there put earthquakes to shame in terms of intimidation. They come like an undertow and pull you to your knees.

But this is Indiana, which, though definitely ant-ridden, usually doesn’t let the little rotters out mid-winter.

And have you ever noticed how observing ants can make you itch?

Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit, dear reader!