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Something Fun

I recently decided that I would create a new native garden under my gum tree on the nature strip by the road, so I got to it by planting a multitude of tiny tubestock plants. Unfortunately the seedlings weren’t very easy to see and the kids passing by had a tendency to walk on them. My friends and I joked that I should install some stakes to deter the less observant. Before you all report to me to Child Services, I would like to reassure you that within moments of that thought, I began thinking of what I could put in the garden to make it more fun for the kiddies.

My son was going to throw out a couple of weird looking figurines that his grandmother had given him. Shhh, don’t tell grandma. So I rescued them and stuck them in the garden. Here’s one. I call it Gargoyle felis catus sp. I plopped it in next to a Poa sp. (an alpine grass).

I also found this neglected mosaic butterfly mosaic (not one of mine),
complete with spider egg sac. Further information on spider egg sacs can be found here.

I then found an old dragonfly mosaic (one of mine) lying around so I put it on the other side of the tree until I can organise a stand for it.

It is coming together slowly. Hopefully it will look better when the grasses get a little bigger.

I am quite enjoying this preoccupation. I hope you are keeping busy too.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

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The Changing Seasons – April 2022

Canberra (Australia) – Autumn delivers and April visitors.

I haven’t contributed to The Changing Seasons since December 2021. A lot has happened over the past four months, including health issues, poetry, completion of a major mosaic project and the start of a new front garden. Apart from the health matters, the garden has taken priority because we have to get it in now ahead of the next, inevitable, drought. In the regular garden, we had to abandon the tomatoes and beans to the rodents this year. They have been very hungry (we caught three and Makea, our dog, caught one). Nevertheless, we still managed to harvest three pumpkins from vines we did not plant. The fig tree went bonkers and produced two huge bumper crops. The rodents got stuck into the first crop but we managed to score some figs from the second batch by securing Elizabethan collars around the trunk of the tree to prevent the rats from climbing up the tree. I also collected a small tub of feijoa today, our first ever crop in more than two decades that we have lived at our house in Canberra.

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Hidden In the Rushes

I am posting this again in memory of my mum’s dog, Ashie.  He died today from a serious illness.  There is only one line and photo in this poem-ish photo-essay that relates to him, but it sums up this beautiful dog so well, at least in my opinion.  Farewell, lovely boy.  You will be missed.

***

When our family ventures out to our beautiful natural areas, we go slowly, for it is only then that nature’s hidden treasures are revealed.  We take out, what we carry in.  We tread lightly and with care.  There may be no houses, but we are nevertheless going into someone else’s home.  This is what we taught our children from a very young age.

Let’s see who is home today – in the rushes.

moorhen2

The little family is well camouflaged.  It is a Dusky Moorhen with her chick.  

moorhenchick

The chick leaves the safety of its nest, but mum is not too far away.

swan2

The black swan and her signets weren’t expecting visitors.

swanb

But all is calm, so peace is soon restored.

Ashy

Come out of there, Ash, and leave those ducks alone.  Ash is a farm dog.  He knows to not hurt the wildlife.

No comments necessary.

First published in 2018

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Ho Hum Election Comes

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. But first, a poem about the Australian Federal election campaign.

The less I say I about the election campaign,
the better. Aussie, Aussie, Aussie, oi, oi. oi.
Three word slogan, “You’re gonna die.”
That’s four, but who’s countin’?
Stick that up your Pine Gap.

It’s excruciating, ladies and gentlemen, but at least we get to vote and afterwards, whinge about the result. Let’s listen to Flogging Molly performing The Worst Day Since Yesterday. Sing it with me.

Stay well, everyone, and sift your oats from your blarney.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

NaPoWriMo #28
RDP Interlace

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To The Margins

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
To The Margins

Light rain veils the clouds, blanketing shadows, 
Pushing them to the background, to the margins.
Autumn provides context to our marginal existence.
Stuck on the precipice,
Brightly coloured leaves hanging precariously
On the gallows of misspent time.
Time wasted, time lost to inaction, to
Indolence, graft and protectionism.
Protectionism, but not protection.
The latter is too high a price to pay.
Money does not grow on trees, invested
For those rainy days that wash farm to sea
And homes under high water mark until
Light rain veils the clouds, blanketing shadows.

NaPoWriMo #27

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How To Impress Your Boss – A Haibun

Once, in an important work meeting with the senior execs, I opened my notepad and was confronted by a huge, black cockroach that had taken up residence between the pages of my notepad. We all saw it waving its monstrous antennae as it contemplated its next move. I made a hasty exit from the meeting, at which point the cockroach made its own dash for freedom. There may have been screaming. Did the bigwigs help with the dispatch? What do you think? I love my life.

Eyes agog. Cockroach!
One extra makes a quorum.
Best meeting ever.

True story, one which is best told on a weekend when nobody is reading.

I have never regretted being a pesticide-free household.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

NaPoWriMo #23

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Coloured Red

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. But first, a poem.

The vine grows tangled on bough – gnarly and proud.
Pride, gnarly pride – whether of nations or race –
wins not war, wins not peace, wins not submission.

Vines tangled on thorns of bloodied resistance,
trapped in a fog of remembrance, the glory.
Ignominious defender of empire

Lost. Dark and broken. Quells peace. Cruel tsar to none,
hero to one. The vine grows tangled on bough.
Wins not war, wins not peace, wins not submission.

Tangled vines lash all to the yoke of sorrow.
Wins not war, wins not peace, wins not submission.
The vine grows tangled on bough. Its rose blooms red.

Perhaps there is only one road for those devoid of imagination and courage? Maybe peace is something that requires practise? You know, fake it until you make it? Who knows? It seems that some of god’s apparent emissaries can give some pretty shitty advice. Shall we listen to Loreena McKennitt’s song, Dante’s Prayer, in the hope of something better?

Take care, everyone.
Kind Regards.
Tracy.

Lens-Artists Photo Challenge – Colourful Expressions, specifically a red rose for Anne as it is her favourite colour, plus
NaPoWriMo #22 challenge is to to write a poem that uses repetition. You can repeat a sound, a word, a phrase, or an image, or any combination of things.

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Consuming Passions

Photo by elif tekkaya on Pexels.com

Consuming Passions
Long slender legs to her armpits;
beautiful eyes flashed her carnal intent.
He had been looking for her his whole life.
Their eyes locked,
bodies swaying together in lovers’ embrace.
A question hung between them.
He: “What do you want?”
She: “To devour you.”
And then he lost his head.

This poem was inspired by two mating praying mantises I photographed last week. Sometimes the female mantis, the smaller of the two, eats the head of the male mantis during copulation. The male is able to continue the deed without his head for a short time as apparently he has a separate mini-brain in his abdomen. Talk about being ruled by the little head! I confess that I had to look away.

Today’s NaPoWriMo challenge was to write a poem that anthropomorphises a kind of food, and ask yourself how the food feels about it.

Alrighty, gruesome.

Bon Appétit, everyone.

Kind Regards.
Tracy.

NaPoWriMo #20
For information on the copulating appetites of praying mantises, here is an article from The Guardian.

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Ode to Ama – A Bush Ballad

I am reprising my poem about my little dog, Ama, for the NaPoWriMo prompt about dogs you have known, seen, or heard about.  It is the best poem I’ve ever written (if I do say so myself) so I can’t offer any better.  The poem is written in the style of bush poetry (ie. it’s long) and there’s a nod to Banjo Patterson’s iconic poem, The Man From Snowy River.  In that poem, “the Man” rides his mountain pony down a steep hill after a herd of brumbies (wild horses).  There is some controversy as to whether that poem was a true story.  Unlike Mr Patterson’s poem, I can vouch that Ode to Ama is completely true.  Enjoy. Read more

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Eh?

Photo by Du01b0u01a1ng Nhu00e2n on Pexels.com

Welcome to my regular Friday song/tune day, ladies and gentlemen, where I pick a piece of music that reflects my mood or the times, to share with you. But first, a poem written for the National Poetry Writing Month (NaPoWriMo) challenge, the optional prompt for which is to write a poem about something you have absolutely no interest in.

Eh?
Bob*, what song should I pick for my Friday song day?
Bob, what do I have absolutely no interest in?
Listening.
Suffering.
Eh, sorry? What did you say?

Today, I’ve chosen L’Indifference, a musical piece written by Tony Murena and performed by Dan Newton’s Cafe Accordion Orchestra for my Friday Song Day. The Cafe Accordian Orchestra hails from Minnesotta. Indifference is not the exactly the same as having no interest in something, but it is close. Enjoy.

Take care, everyone.
Kind Regards.
Tracy.

* Not his real name.