In search of story


Connections: February 11.18

Winter wilt

outside and in

we want for spirit


our best mind games

do not suffice

to rise above

the dark and ice

thus the need

for coffee and blog

old plaid flannels

a seed catalog.







Connections: February 4.18

Yesterday with camera

moodily peripatetic

I thought I’d document

how gardeners are pathetic:

In dead of winter freeze

we have to check the earth,

we cannot help ourselves

we look for year’s rebirth;

there is no sign of life,

we really don’t expect it,

but still we search the ground

for signs of resurrexit.

So I was set to laugh

at the whole absurdity

when I spied this undeniable

non-morbidity —

the tiniest sprouts of green

amid the lifeless black! —

They’re there! Hoorar for hope!

I take my scoffings back!






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!



Connections: November 28.17

When you’ve decked your deck with autumn hues

of scarlet, gold and light chartreuse

you don’t expect what can appear

when summer leaves a souvenir.

Nobody planted it but itself

no phantom gnome or garden elf

it had to see, after hearing the tout,

what Thanksgiving and Christmas were all about.



Thanks again to the S.W. Berg Photo Archives

and D.J. Berg’s green (and yellow and red) thumb.