May Journal Page

Hello everyone! Yes, I’m still alive and well, though I haven’t been near the computer very much lately.

Spring – or summer? – is finally here. After our last snow the thermometer rose steadily and we’ve needed our air conditioner. Smoke from northern fires has made the air hazy for a week. The birds have returned; the trees around us are noisy from morn til night. No rain for weeks, just a bit last night, so I’ve been filling water basins on the lawn for the birds again. Chokecherries and lilacs are blooming and I should be doing something about my planters and flowerbeds.

My courage has been low these last two weeks. So much to do — it feels like I’ve five mountains that should be moved right shortly and have only a trowel to work with. Where to start? (Is this a sign of OCD?) Sewing projects waiting, flowerbeds to work, writing & editing needing done plus a heap of housework. Then I’d like to paint & draw again.

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is INDEFATIGABLE –and I’m not. 🙂

I can’t blame it on my health woes because the medication I’m taking has done wonders in bringing my blood counts back toward normal. Something to be very thankful for. I’d like to be upbeat but think of all the work that need doing and wish I had more energy to tackle it. Sometimes I do have good days; it’s not all bad.

At least I’m getting lots of fresh air these days, having become the peace-keeping force in our yard. A stray cat has wandered in – or someone has left it off. Anyone who thinks they can drop an unwanted cat off at some town or farm and it will cheerfully blend in with the locals needs a sharp lesson on cat behavior. Predators grab the weaker ones. The stronger ones have to fight for every bit of food and shelter they find.

Our Angus likes being outside, and he’s very territorial. He won’t tolerate this stray in our yard – and the stray won’t run from a fight. He isn’t going to let Angus boss him around. When the two meet, it’s claws and flying fur. So I’ve been keeping an eye on Angus when he’s outside and bringing him in the house should the other appear. Or I swoop in at the first sign of aggression, sometimes having to separate the two combatants. Not an easy task!

I have accomplished a few goals. Over the past two months I did get a new dress pattern worked out, a prototype for every day and then a Sunday dress made. I dug up part of my flowerbed yesterday. Saturday I did some decluttering.

I’m a hoarder – may as well confess. In the course of looking for our finch feeder I found a box containing old greeting cards and other paper keepsakes. Get-well cards from 1980 when I had my cancer surgery; cards from my 40th birthday party, from friends back in Ontario. My grands can deal with them someday. 🙂

Are you sentimental? Do you have old cards and diaries like these squirreled away? Or are you a minimalist?

Delights & Northern Lights

Image by Jacques Barbary — Pixabay

Here’s a list of fifteen more delights in my little world:

– the rosy glow of dawn

– little dust devils whirling and twirling across an open field, or twisting through the longer grasses on a roadside

– watching storm clouds churning (One of the most fantastic sights ever was a huge super-cell in the sky west of us!)

– seeing much-needed steady rain soaking into a thirsty land

– sundogs and rainbows

– northern lights *

– watching a blizzard (from indoors, where I’m snug and warm )

– a twenty acre field covered with snow geese

– watching hundreds of sandhill cranes foraging in the field across the road

– seeing a flock of swans landing in the slough just NW of our acreage

– fields of canola in bloom, a gold carpet stretching out a mile or more

– the delightful scent of wild roses

– red-to-burgundy autumn leaves on our Amur maple

– the autumn brilliance of a hardwood forest

– poems about all these things

* An amazing sight:
Several months ago I woke at 5 am – like, wide awake. (Must have been a nudge from God. He had something he wanted to show me. 🙂 ) I got up and decided to look out the window right beside my bed, which faces to the north. So I opened the curtains a bit – and saw some amazing northern lights rippling across the sky.

I’d watched for a few minutes when my husband woke up. “What are you seeing out there?”

“Northern lights. Really colourful ones, wavering across the sky.”

So he got up to watch. For awhile they continued streaming, then something incredible started to happen: all across the northern sky, wide puffs of light started shooting up from the earth into the heavens. Like half a dozen airport beacons in different spots, sweeping across the sky, yet each sending their beams straight upward. Here a puff would shoot up and disappear, then more to the west another puff shot up, then maybe in the middle of our view. Rapidly, steadily, the balls of light rose and disappeared into the stars. We watched for about ten minutes as these rising clouds of light continued bursting upwards.

Words can hardly describe the magnificence! I doubt I’ll ever see a phenomenon like that again. If it hadn’t been so early, I’d have sent a text around telling other ladies to get up and see this. Later, texting about it on our church sisters’ chat, I learned that only one other sister in our congregation was up to see it. The others were all disappointed to miss the sight.

Inside And Outside

Afternoon snowstorm!
Wind swirls glistening
flurries across my pane.
Street grunge disappears;
trees and shrubs gather
white skirts around.
From warmth of my room
I watch and enjoy.
Nothing like the purity
of fresh snow!
Afternoon snowstorm!
Wind buffets the car,
drives blinding snow
across my windshield;
icy ruts build up.
“Road conditions poor.
Exercise extreme caution.”
No kidding! I pray hard
gripping the steering wheel,
fearful of a fender-bender
ender to this dreary drive.
Image: Anna — Pixabay

Haiku Weathers

As I said in yesterday’s post, winter has returned to our land. It snowed all day yesterday and is still snowing. I had to scrape away a strip of the fluffy white blanket this morning so I could scatter birdseed on the driveway. The sparrows were getting desperate; a number of them were perched on the front doorstep waiting when I opened the door.

It’s Day 20 of National Poetry Month, so I’ll offer these adverse-weather haiku verses:

snow in April
digging out winter boots
depression moves in

pelt the picnickers
bipolar weather

snow-laden cloud
blots out the sun
the doctor says MS

This last verse has a history. A friend’s son was diagnosed with MS not long after he married. They’ve tried different treatments that helped some, but he’s gotten progressively worse. They’ve managed to keep going, with his wife becoming the breadwinner and his main caregiver. Their children are teens now and no doubt they help as they can. Sadly, recently she received the same diagnosis. My heart goes out to them. A dark storm cloud indeed!

Colour Me White

Weathering the weather. Yesterday afternoon I looked out the window and saw a small flock of about twenty redwing blackbirds feasting on the sparrow seeds I scatter over by the caraganas. It was drizzling at the time, but then it started to snow. Snowed all night and it’s still coming down. Guess we’ll be happy for whatever moisture we get, but I’d prefer it in liquid form.

Had to dig out my winter boots to go out and feed the sparrows this morning. Later I spotted a meadowlark on the roadside, looking sad and bedraggled. So my verse today will be…


Sitting in the slush
on the shoulder, admiring
the flying flakes,
this morning so gray.
no song today?
Guess not. You look rather

Meadowlark image: Johnny Gunn — Pixabay

A Forest Comes Down

The 2023 Poem A Day Prompt this morning at Writer’s Digest: write a sound poem. This could be a poem filled with rhymes or alliteration, but it could also be about listening to sounds that are being made.

Okay. Here’s mine. 🙂

Gentle breeze
whistles its way
to a serious wind
rustling, then shaking
the overloaded pine tips
bit by bit relieving them
of nature’s fecundity
last summer’s harvest
as if she were planning
on seeding a whole forest
with the wind’s kind help
The swishing pine boughs
sigh, in gratitude you’d say
shake themselves and raise
their liberated tips
to the sky