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Once more I find that I am playing catch-up. Weekends get busy around here, and this past one was no exception. I did take some photographs, and write some mini-poems--but I also spent a lot of time getting re-acquainted with my camera, and digging out some of my favorite poetry books. I finished reading Mary Oliver's "Why I Wake Early" and went back to reading the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. I am also working on some illustrations for a small book a friend of mine puts together each year for his friends. The pictures I'm including here were taken over the weekend--we had a lovely weekend weatherwise--a little windy, but sunny.
All of these photos were taken around my home, Wit's End. Above left is one of our cats: Eddie, whose real name is Oedipuss. Eddie follows me around the yard like a puppy! He's a real hoot when I'm trying to work in the garden--he likes to climb on my lap, or curl up in front of me--makes yanking up weeds a little tricky, and there's nothing like having a furry cat on your lap in 90 degree temps!
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The next picture, left, is our pond. This view is near the dam. Every spring we have baby ducks and geese on the pond, and a great blue heron stops by every now and then. On the right is one of my favorite spots to sit and relax--the porch of our barn. From here I can see the pond, and a couple of my gardens, and both sunrise and sunset. A good place to sit and think, write, or sometimes even nap! (Cats and dogs enjoy it too!)
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The last photo I took as sort of a visual for one of the mini-poems I wrote. I didn't have my telephoto lens, so it's a little hard to tell, but those little black dots are birds--I call them "The Gang of Five." They hang out in that tree every day.
And here are the mini-poems:
Friday, January 27:
High up in the oak
the gang of five--
sparrows--
survey their hood--
the empty feeders,
a moldy, cracked birdbath.
Not even the mockingbird scares them.
They watch squirrels and chipmunks,
look the other way at a fly-by
slaying of a rabbit,
maintain stony silence
when the cat approaches,
then harass a red-tailed hawk
who ventures too close
to their crib.
Saturday, January 28:
I nearly missed it:
coyote on the run,
under the fence,
into the woods.
Safe now.
But who is more frightened?
Tonight, I walk faster,
carry a big stick.
Sunday, January 29
The stray cat, unhappy
to share his meal with the raccoon,
waits impatiently behind the holly,
frowns at me as I watch through the window.
Sorry, little kitty.
Tonight, it's first come,
first served.
Monday, January 30:
January tricks the daffodils
into waking early. Fools the tulips
and forsythia, too.
I warned them not to believe her,
even as I tossed aside my coat,
and turned my face to the sun.