Hot & Hazy Haiku

Here on the Canadian prairies the weather is a favorite conversation-opener. As one book character puts it, “There’s so much of it about.” And our beloved Saskatchewan is the driest province in Canada — overall and especially some years.

It’s not the coldest part of the country, obviously; the far north holds that honor. Still, a week of -40 C/F at the end of December is the norm. My husband recalls back in the 50s seeing the temp dip to -50 F in south-central SK. According to one book of SK trivia, our provincial record is -56.7 C — that’s -70 F — at Prince Albert in 1893.

Our summer so far has consisted of a few really warm days and a lot of moderate one, for which we’re very thankful when we read about heat waves elsewhere. We’ve had more rain this summer than in the past couple of summers, which means the crops are looking great.

And now a couple of weather-ish haiku verses I hope you’ll enjoy:

Image by M Ameen — Pixabay
gray dawn
all the way to the sun
trying...trying

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

sizzling day
some kid has to try
asphalt eggs
Image by Richard Eisenmenger — Pixabay

No, This Year

Here’s my response to the Ragtag Daily Prompt. Today’s word was CREDIT and in this tale I’m carrying over the thought of Sammi’s Weekend Prompt word, YEAR, but going way over the given word limit.

The Anniversary Surprise

“You know, Will, we’re often talked of visiting England someday,” she said. “Wouldn’t that be a great way to celebrate our twentieth anniversary this fall?”

Will shrugged. “I dunno. Life’s so busy. Maybe some other year.” He drained his coffee mug and buttered another piece of toast.

“But life won’t stop being so busy until we’re too old to travel anymore.”

“Hmm… Hope not.”

“Anyway, I’ve booked our tickets. We leave August 20th; come back Sept 3rd.”

He leaned back in shock, then eyed her suspiciously. “That’s two weeks! Have you maxed out our credit card?”

“Not at all. I’ve been squirreling funds away for years, thinking of this trip. I even paid cash for our airfare.”

“Clever you! All right then. This will be our “Once in a lifetime” anniversary binge. Don’t ask for Paris in five years.”

“Okay. Not Paris.” She smiled serenely.

Happy Returns?

It’s Monday morning again — the return of the workday week. And I’m back with another belated blog post. This is in response to Sammi’s Weekend Writing Prompt, and I’m giving you two for one. the first I wrote last night — when it still was the weekend –and the second this morning, when I decided on something more upbeat. You can tell me which you like best.

Back to Square One?

I think, Ramon, we’d better return to our former relationship.

I don’t get it. Like “just friends”?

Like “total strangers.”

So…like…you don’t want to marry me after all?

Got it!

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Some, more ready to trust, alight
as soon as I’ve walked away;
some timid, slower to return.
Still, a rousing chorus
greets me when I appear
with my bag of birdseed.

Image by Gordon Johnson — Pixabay

Not My Fault

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is APPARENT. Well, I’m feeling like doing something light today, and since I missed yesterday’s prompt, GAME, I’ll cover them both in this fictitious bit from a sports reporter.

TURFFORD FLUBS TODAY’S GAME

Attempting to distance himself from the blame for his lame game today, gofer Reuben Turfford suggests that his contact lenses were sabotaged by an opponent.

Turfford explained that several golfers were together at a party the night before and during the evening his eyes became sore, so he removed his contacts and set them on the table. He then headed for the gents’ room. “I’m certain that while I was out of the room, one of my opponents tampered with my lenses, warped them somehow,” he claims. “I was still rather bleary-eyed this morning and didn’t notice the difference in my lenses until I tried to hit the ball in today’s tournament. Otherwise I certainly would have won.”

When asked to comment on this issue, his closest opponent Mike Strikem denied the accusation. “Yes, we were all together last night,” he verifies, “But no one touched his contacts. I’m guessing it was his overindulgence at the party that caused his poor game today. At times it was quite apparent that Reuben’s judgement was bleary, not his eyesight.”

Since Turfford wisely tossed his warped lenses right after the game, this explanation remains unverified.

A Colorful Creature

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is KOOKY. Well, here’s a kooky poem I wrote for the sheer fun of it — with a nod to Ogden Nash’s The Spangled Pandemonium, one of my favorite children’s poems.

The Fugitive

A creature glided through the dark,
he thought it quite the prank,
to break out from the zoo and hide
beside the riverbank.

But patches of its fur showed up
right through the foliage green.
As I passed by those colors roused
my curiosity.

I peered, and spied this creature,
odd-brindled blue and white
with dabs of green and violet.
It gave me such delight!

I couldn't recognize the thing;
my Google didn't help.
I tried to get a closer look
but it gave a fearful yelp!

Some keepers of the zoo ran up
and said, "Say, have you seen
our multi-mottled commingal
with fur white, blue and green?

I pointed to those bushes
that bulged suspiciously
and they set out to capture
their colorful escapee.
Image by Alexandra Koch — Pixabay