A group of starlings is called a chattering. Makes sense. They can be super noisy. Especially at dawn. Dusk too. They can be called a murmuration too which I had heard of especially in flight. But also a cloud, clutter, congregation, constellation, filth, scourge or vulgarity. A vulgarity! I love a constellation because of the name itself—starling. Which I also love. Indeed I love starlings—beautiful. Apparently they’re a nuisance bird and loathed by farmers.
A chattering of them at the bird feeders and the birdbath yesterday morning. Somehow it’s a sign of fall to me, to see them gather like that. Or of spring. They’re here all summer but it seems to be those two times of the year when I notice them most, tons of them on lawns or at my feeders. I stood and watched them for at least 15 minutes. Their head feathers electric blue and shimmering in the morning light. The white ring around their eyes giving them an alert, no nonsense gaze. And their attitude too! Right down to the business of eating, all of them, no skittish looking around, scouting the area out beforehand. Marching through the birdbath, splashing water everywhere. They hopped onto the front railings, beaks prised open with a tiny round seed. Cocked their heads. Ever curious. Then together in an orchestrated black swoosh, they flew up and off.
I felt honoured and somehow humbled. Before I investigated what their gathering names were, I called them an enchantment. An enchantment of starlings. Because they enchanted me despite their boisterous ways. Or perhaps because of them. I admired their boldness, their confidence, bolstered by their numbers perhaps but I suspected that was just their way too.
When they flew away, the ever-present, comforting sparrows arrived and hopped and chirped, scattered and skittish. A squirrel balanced on the edge of the birdbath to drink. No sign that the starlings had ever been there, not a single electric blue or glossy black feather. Only a lot less food, less water in the birdbath.
And the memory of them emblazoned on my heart.
Day 253 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Twenty starlings feed
glossy feathers black and blue
bold start to the day
Day 10 Effy’s Blogalong
by railway tracks
lemonade stand memories
Day 252 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Today’s haiku has nothing to do with my day but I’m putting it first with the accompanying picture of the snapdragons as a couple of people wanted to see them and this way they should show up in Effy’s facebook group without said people having to read the blog.
Today was a day! Or it tried really hard to be. Our upright freezer full of food stopped working yesterday. We discovered it at 7pm and frantically tried to rescue what we could. We kept the freezer plugged in in the hope that, now pretty much empty, it would start to work overnight. But it didn’t.
So this morning was a flurry of trying to find someone to come and look at it and trying to farm out lots of the food to family so it wouldn’t go to waste. In the middle of all this and before I’d had breakfast, one of my stepdaughters, Willow, came by to take some of the food. I went to let her into the house.
“Have you seen the size of that rat?” she asked.
“Yeah, there in the middle of the road.”
“That’s a rat? It’s huge!”
“Yeah. It’s swollen and it’s leg is all—”
“Ugh!” I threw my hands up at her. “I don’t want to know. I haven’t had breakfast yet. I can’t think about dead rats!”
Seriously! This is what my life had become? Piles of soggy, dripping food; sinks full of dirty dishes; a kitchen table strewn with condiments from the fridge; cat poop in front of the upright freezer (I could relate to that sentiment at least); and now a dead rat in the middle of the road!
Willow offered to remove the rat but I wouldn’t let her. “What will you do with it? You can’t take it in your car. I don’t want it anywhere near here. No. I’ll call the city.”
Rob reached over me to grab some bags and I snarled. “No! Don’t you go and pick it up either!”
He gave me a withering look. “These are for Willow’s food.”
“Oh.” Chill, Sue.
We had to settle for an appliance repair person on Tuesday, the earliest we could get anyone. I had called the City and they were coming to remove the poor rat. But then a braver-than-me neighbour came home and picked it up with a shovel. I called out to him about the City coming but he just shrugged and said it was okay, he could deal with it.
By the time everything had calmed down and Rob was at work, I felt emotionally exhausted and very teary. My stepdaughter Carole was supposed to be dropping in the afternoon to take some food but I just wanted to run away. So I told her I’d drop by with the food cos I was upset and running away, probably to the Terry Fox monument. Carole, being Carole and very able to deal with me when I’m emotionally tattered simply asked if I wanted to stop in for tea. I asked her if she and my grandson Ollie wanted to come to the Terry Fox monument with me. Ollie was off school as he’d woken up with a sore throat at 5 a.m. but was now full of energy and feeling much better and Carole had taken the afternoon off work to be with him.
So off we went to the Terry Fox monument. It’s located just off the Trans-Canada Highway close to where Terry had to stop his Marathon of Hope (cross country run for cancer awareness) in 1980 because he became too ill.
The bronze statue of Terry is amazing in its likeness and he faces west, his home, a fact which always touches my heart. Being there puts everything into perspective every time. Despite being busy, the place emanates calm, a reverence even, with a beautiful view of Lake Superior and plenty of benches and picnic tables. I remember hearing that his mother Betty Fox particularly liked this statue. It used to be right off the highway (called the Terry Fox Courage Highway at this point), in a lay-by area, but it was eventually moved across the road to this high-up park-like setting. I miss being able to see him as you drive the highway but this is a more reflective place.
I wrote the following poem a few years ago. Perspective is everything.
Above the Highway
To the woman huddled alone
in misty rain
beside the Terry Fox Monument:
I feel your tears.
I watched you brush the bench clear
of sodden brown leaves,
beyond an avenue of maples
above the highway.
I want to pluck you from this moment,
your son returns to you soon,
arms open wide,
despite your ex’s accusations
in divorce court an hour ago.
I will never forget you,
your lessons learned.
And when it’s time,
perhaps on a misty day like this,
I’ll collect you.
We’ll walk away
arm in arm
beyond an avenue of maples
far above the highway.
Day 9 Effy’s Blogalong
1. RUOK? My dear friend Fran from Tasmania messages me (and her other friends) this from time to time, a check-in adopted during the pandemic. She messaged me this today at a time when I was feeling very sorry for myself, feeling abandoned and wishing I had a dog so I could go for a walk (I know!).
2. I told her the last part about wanting a dog so I could go for a walk. It sounded as ridiculous then as it does now so I also told her that there was no reason I couldn’t just walk out the front door and take myself for a walk. I told her I’d get back to her.
3. Armed with my phone so I could take photos of the rapidly changing seasons and wearing my raincoat from Arizona, I walked to the end of the road, four houses down, to the railway tracks.
4. Brush and Bomardier’s rail car yard on one side and railway tracks and brush on the other. Huge expanse of sky east and west, the direction of the path. I felt like I could walk forever, use clouds as steps into pools of blue.
5. I lost my mood somewhere on that walk. Perhaps it tumbled into the cluster of wild yellow snapdragons as I bent to take a picture.
6. When we build the fence, then we can get a dog. I so miss dog energy even though I love kitty energy. Give me both all the time, please.
7. Rob came home with groceries. Whether we need them or not, he can’t resist a good deal. BUT when he went to put them into the stand-up freezer, juices were dripping down the shelves. Practically everything had thawed!
8. Exhausted now, physically and emotionally, from cleaning it all up and dealing with everything. Rob is still cooking up some stuff. The smoke alarms keep going off as he’s tired too and is rush-cooking things I think. Not the peaceful, relaxing evening we’d envisioned!
9. We saved about 2/3 of the food, I reckon. The freezer seems to be working now—overfull I think—so I hope it’s OK. I asked it. RUOK?
10. Still waiting on a definitive answer.
Day 251 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Little cat snuggles
chill night wind whistles dark
windows open still
Day 8 Effy's blogalong
September entered and overnight our weather changed. I love fall and everything about it but the change was abrupt. The nights pulled in, the temperatures dipped and the days got moodier. And we’ve had lots of rain after weeks of drought like conditions and heat and humidity. When I left work this morning, overnight rain had weighted the tops of the pansy petals, almost folding them in two as if they were bowing to the changes, acknowledging their fate.
Today was also the first day back to school. Physically even! A real true return for most of the kids. My phone pinged with photos of the grandkids eager and face-scrubbed ready before school or sprawled on the couch afterwards, exhausted from so much in person contact after so long. I felt nostalgic seeing the photos, remembering my own school days and those of my son, that feeling of stepping away from home life to embrace life outside, not quite an about-face, but a gradual shift in perspective.
Today I start two weeks of vacation. Not going away anywhere, maybe some day trips if Rob can take some time off, but more a much needed break and a chance to regulate my body to a day schedule and to embrace the beauty of fall. I trained a new young worker, Sam, in the last hour of my shift this morning. She had seen my client’s shower once before and did an excellent job on her own needing only occasional direction. When she put face cream onto my client, Sam rubbed it onto her gloved hands and smoothed it carefully over my client’s face, dabbing it over her nose and stroking it across her cheeks. Such a loving gesture. I usually swab it on with a make-up sponge! Yes, definitely time for a vacation.
But even more than that.
As I stepped outside into the cool morning air and saw the pansies, I noticed a subtle inner shift, a life season change if you will. A glimpse of the inevitable.
Day 250 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Weighted by rain drops
pansy petals fold over
bow to season change
Day 7 of Effy Wild’s blogalong
My lovely friend Louise gave me this gorgeous dragonfly cushion yesterday. More than a pretty cushion, though, she gave it to me in recognition of a significant friend visitation I had early in August. A recently deceased friend sent me a dragonfly visit as a gift and I’d mentioned it to Louise who completely understood. Hence, this cushion that she happened to have on hand as an extra throw pillow. Did I have a place for it? Did I like it? Louise worried. Oh did I have a place for it!
The colour is in the same red/ purplely range of the cushions on my deacon’s bench by the front door. It sits there now as a cherished memory and gesture disguised as a pretty pillow. Wedged between a pretty maroon and gold elephant cushion cover (a gift from my friend Linda) and a sweet heart-shaped pillow from one of my step-daughters, it fits perfectly. It is now something to greet and ground me as I return home or a memory I can pluck and carry with me when I leave the house.
The heart-shaped pillow from my step-daughter Carole was not meant for me. Nor was it originally meant for Rob, my hubby. On the first ever Family Day holiday on 17th February 2009, Rob had a massive heart attack at work. He was resuscitated by strangers at the scene (as far as I can tell) and ended up having emergency surgery at our local hospital. Terrifying. Rob has a big family—six children, five with his ex-wife, Judy. Those five children (Carole was the youngest at age 20) and Judy all joined me at the hospital and we waited and visited over days. At the time of the heart attack, Carole wasn’t talking to her dad (can’t remember why now but families sometimes) but she arrived at the hospital with her boyfriend and the cushion that I think he must have given her for Valentine’s Day. It has a little pocket in the front so possibly came with a little stuffie or chocolates. She hugged that pillow all the time we were in the family room waiting for Rob to come out of surgery.
Rob had three stents placed in his arteries and to facilitate his healing, he was sedated and a condition similar to hypothermia was induced. We didn’t know for a couple of days if there had been any brain or nerve damage. Fortunately he made a complete and rapid recovery.
I remember maybe 5 days later walking into his hospital room and he was sat in a huge chair with all the kids somehow perched around him, hanging onto him. At first I was mortified. He needed calm! And quiet! And rest! Not this constant babble and chaos and…I took a closer look. Rob looked so happy. Everyone radiated love. Even Carole who was hugging her dad fiercely.
Somewhere in that hospital time, the little heart pillow had been left with Rob beside him on the bed. I think everyone who sat with him had held that pillow to their own hearts at some time. When it was time for Rob to come home, I asked Carole if she wanted it back.
She smiled. “Nah. Dad can keep it. He needs it more.”
The dragonfly cushion from Louise is in excellent company.
Day 249 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Cushions by the door
long ago and yesterday
plump with memories
Day 6 of Effy Wild’s Blogalong
I so needed a good cup of tea. Usually I don’t drink tea at work, opting for diet cola or water for my midnight shifts but it had been a long rough night, or at least it felt like it, and I had a half an hour before my co-worker relieved me and I just wanted a good cuppa. Fishing in my drawer, I randomly chose a bag of tea: Stormy Night. Stormy Night indeed! Perfect. I took a photo. That would be my daily haiku today. Nothing profound. Simply a nod to a moment in my day.
The tea had been passed along to me by the daughter of the co-worker who was relieving me so I told her about it. We had a good laugh. And I told her all about my shift. Then I mentioned how I had left home for work in a torrential downpour but two streets away it was simply a spattering of rain. “That should have been a sign,” she said. I agreed as I put on my raincoat. I love my raincoat. I bought it last year on our Arizona trip to visit my son and his hubby. It makes me smile, not only at the memory of that visit but also because I bought a raincoat in Arizona of all places. The irony! That explains why it was such a good deal I guess.
Walking out of work into fresh morning air, past the parade of pink and purple petunias by the entrance, felt so liberating. The best part of a tough shift. I dropped by my friend Louise’s house to pick up a local magazine she gets for me. She had mentioned something about a ‘dragonfly moment’ too as a nod to a recent visitation I had from a friend. A large plastic bag hung off her mailbox. She had gifted me a lovely pillow with embroidered dragonflies. That will be tomorrow’s haiku and photo. And likely my blog.
I was beginning to shed the rough shift.
Another delicious cuppa at home, this time Pear Cream Ceylon and climbing into sheets sprayed with the enticing scent of ‘Fairies Breath’, and the shedding was complete. I could finally relax.
After I woke up, I was chatting with my hubby Rob and I asked him about his day. “It was a stormy night…day,” he said. And I cracked up. He had no knowledge of my Stormy Night tea and isn’t on instagram where I post my haiku and picture. All I had briefly said to him when I got home from work this morning was that it had been a rough long night. He had been referring to the weather, rain on and off all day, and 'night' had just been a slip but I thrive on such moments. To me they’re moments of connection, of the universe, or something somewhere, playing games. If I put them in a story they’d sound contrived and unconvincing but in real life they’re simply delightful and they tickle me.
My friend Linda once sent me a dark blue glazed ceramic fridge magnet with a phrase on it: Friends weave invisible nets of love. Isn’t that lovely? This idea that there’s a web out there ready to catch you if you start to fall? That’s how I see the little ironic moments or apparent ‘coincidences’ in my life. A way of remembering that we are all connected in some way somewhere beyond this seemingly mundane moment.
Day 248 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Busy midnight shift
get through with the perfect tea
Stormy Night for sure
Day 5 of Effy Wild's Artfully Wild Blogalong
After midnight shift,
sky dark, no sun, only sleep
on the horizon
Soooo tired coming home after midnights this morning. The first shift back is usually the hardest, that sudden switch from daytime awakeness to nighttime awakeness. Somehow I resist going to bed early (ie at a ‘decent’ time) when I’m off. Too easy to stumble into bed around 2am after doing nothing of great importance. I choose midnight shifts as they are the only consecutive 10 hour shifts available at my work. But I don’t mind them. I have the office to myself and overall, save a few harried and busy hours, they can be less physically demanding. The work itself that is. The hardest thing about the midnight shift at my work (as a PSW to people with mental and/or physical challenges) is that it is a midnight shift, a time when your body clock (what is that again?) is turned upside down. But, as I mentioned in a previous post, midnight shifts also remind me that time is expansive and fluid and that each day actually does contain 24 hours whether we’re awake for all of them or not.
I have dark circles below my eyes that have taken up permanent residence now. As a teenager, this would have devastated me. Not that I’m thrilled with them now but they are what they are and perhaps one day they’ll disappear. More than anything they fascinate me. What are they? I mean, how does lack of sleep create them? Will a period of solid sleep erase them? I keep meaning to google it. I can understand puffy bags more (which I can see hovering on the doorstep) but the dark circles? A mystery.
I have found that I can ‘manage’ on very little sleep. Solid snoozes of maybe a couple of hours or a few hours each can get me through although my physical reactions and mental alertness may betray me. Often I wonder how I get through the day with only one or two things actually accomplished yet I feel like I’ve had so many brilliant thoughts and moments or gazing and absorbing. Maybe those are the days that are worth more in the long run actually. But I like having the choice to ‘do’ or ‘be’ and both at the same time is a lovely treat. Whether it’s covid or midnights or a mean combination of both I often feel like I’m wading through molasses in my days.
Today though I had a solid sleep, Six to seven hours of deep restful sleep. Strangely I’ve found that I sleep without tossing if I wear earplugs so my earplug sleeps tend to be deeper and more physically restful. Why is that? Another google moment. So interesting. And I had sweet dreams...taking photos of lighthouses with waves crashing foamy and white at their bases; a found elephant stuffie hung on a doorknob for its owner to discover; me dancing dancing dancing in sunlight outside on a wide paved path surrounded by trees and tall swaying grass.
And one thing my midnight shift brought me last night as I began to rewatch Schitts Creek on Netflix (quite a bit of ‘down’ time too on the midnight shift at work usually and we’re very fortunate to have Netflix and internet access in the office) was the realisation on a deeper level of how great that show is. How hilarious. Perhaps not until you know about the personalities of Moira’s wigs, do you really get the line in one of the first scenes in the first episode where Moira yells at her maid for putting two wigs together in the same bag—wigs that don’t get on with each other. The laughs, at any time of the day or night, are priceless.
Day 4 Artfully Wild Blog Along with Effy Wild
I have the giggles today. Probably not a good thing as it means I’m likely overtired and I have to work midnights tonight. But things just keep hitting me as funny today. I drove past a sparkling white car earlier and noticed that the brake lights had purposeful red paint oozing out under them like blood. I laughed out loud. Literally. Maybe not funny really. But unexpected and sometimes laughter seems to come from a startle reflex, you know when something isn’t as we expect. Perhaps that’s what humour is after all. The unexpected but not in a horrific kind of way. That would be fear. Lol. Sometimes even fear is disguised by laughter though. One of my co-workers laughs hysterically in emergency situations. She does realise this and tells us between giggles that she’s sorry and knows this is so inappropriate but she can’t help it. A nervous reaction. Luckily we rarely have emergency situations at work.
I create artist trading cards (ATCs) and send them to people each month. I started in response to my friend Linda’s request. Tired of only bills and unwelcome mail, she wanted to swap ATCs with me and get something uplifting in her mail instead. Then I joined Willowing Art’s ATC swaps (the last one was this summer unfortunately). Anyway, I keep looking at the ones I made this month and I laugh at one of them. The prompt was flowers and I made one set where a ribbon of daisies hangs down one side of the card. I thought it would look whimsical and I added the word ‘bloom’ underneath to suggest hidden depths. But the daisies themselves were less transparent than I’d thought and one of the cards simply reads ‘loom’ until you move the ribbon out of the way. It makes me giggle every time I see it. I’ll send that one to Linda. She’ll appreciate the humour.
My hubby and I used to produce a free humour-filled weekly magazine to distribute around town. I enjoyed trying to find funny jokes and articles to fill it but I soon realised that my sense of a humour is a little skewed. It tends to have a sadistic streak. One of the funniest things we ever printed that I remember was a true report of a Health and Safety Commission somewhere that was educating its employees or potential employees on the potential dangers of the job. But the video they showed was so graphic and disturbing that people started fainting and falling out of their chairs. Trying to leave the room and run to the bathroom, people tripped over table and chair legs in the dark. They had to stop the video because so many people had hurt themselves—the article listed the numbers of broken legs, banged heads and bleeding noses in addition to the fainting casualties. I think it’s the irony that amuses me so much. I love irony. People usually see me as a somewhat kind person so that I find this story funny baffles them and they’ll often start to inch away from me while I laugh uproariously. I’m laughing even typing it out.
As a child in Britain, I loved the live (live!) children’s show, Blue Peter, and I still smile remembering an episode where a baby elephant was brought on the show. (I don’t find it as funny any more as I’m more aware of the plight and fear of the baby elephant and I really do feel for the keeper but it was live and I was a kid and oh the responses from the 3 commentators of the show who were live and had to deal with everything). All was fine until the elephant relieved itself. Potty humour did nothing for me even as a kid but as I say, the presenters’ reactions were priceless. The camera shifted away from that. But then the elephant decided to bolt and it dragged the keeper, who never left go of the leash, through all the pee and poop, in and out of the camera shot. One of the presenters started to laugh, one of those belly laughs that just gets you going too, although he was concerned about the keeper too. Another commentator almost stepped in it all, the laughing commentator pushed him away from it and then he glances at his shoes. Just when it seems like the elephant and keeper are headed offstage, you can see them in the background turning around and heading back. Oh my! I’ll try to find the clip to put in here. Despite all the comments about the poor little elephant, I still can’t help but laugh until tears roll down my face. I absolutely love bloopers especially news bloopers. Nothing rehearsed or set up, just real life.
Yesterday I walked around, my head and heart spinning with the Texas abortion laws but then on the same newscast I also heard that ABBA were getting back together! ABBA! Seriously just what this world could use right now—a little ABBA. The news mentioned that they would be touring virtually using holographic images of themselves. And they’re calling them…wait for it…ABBAtars! I’m still smiling!
Humour is a funny thing.
Day 246 #365daysofsybwriting #365daysofhaiku
Chickadee inside feeder
flits to the rim, takes
one seed at a time
Day 3 of Effy Wild's Artfully Wild Blog Along
Perhaps you know it, too? That list from Erma Bombeck, “If I Had My Life To Live Over”. I love it. So much wisdom. I’m sure we can each come up with our own list. The one of Erma’s that I always remember is : “I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.” I can envision that candle, how beautiful it must have been, baby pink for sure, perhaps even how carefully it had been wrapped to place in storage. My parents had a similar sculpted candle. I think they were all the rage back in the day. They were peeled really to reveal different layers, often several shades of the same colour. Too pretty to burn. In time my parents’ candle faded and I think the outer wax cracked. Years later it was thrown out but it had long lost its beauty before then and had been pushed to the back of the china cabinet.
So I left yesterday’s blog pondering whether to use one of my treasured patchouli soaps as my next bathroom hand soap. Could I? I’ve had one in my underwear drawer for 18 months and one on my headboard for a few years. I know that seems unusual but I so love the scent of it. Well, I did it. I chose the Summer of Love one from Arizona and I’ve used it all day. It lathers beautifully and smells divine, leaving a faint scent of patchouli on my hands afterwards. I’ve been home all day so have used it lots and walked around the house and yard sniffing my hands!
So many things in my life that I’ve squirreled away, that I deem too pretty/ precious/ unique/ irreplaceable or that I consider myself too unworthy at the moment to use. Ouch. That one hurts but I realise it’s true if I really dig deep. Waiting for the right conditions. Seriously what are the right conditions? Today is as good a day as any simply because I’m here and breathing. I get saving some things, perhaps having a box of comfort things for hard days, but in general, why deny myself the pleasure of using something special on a daily basis?
I understand that it can stem from poverty or scarcity thinking but how many things do I have around the house or hidden away that I don’t actually use or fully appreciate for fear of not ever being able to replace them? Or it not being a special enough occasion to use them? Or me not feeling important enough that day? What are my sculpted rose candles? What are yours? Do you have any?
Today using the patchouli soap felt luxurious. It’s rippled like a washboard, too which amuses me no end and feels delightful in my hands. Just the right size. Using it created a small shift in upping my level of self-compassion and self-care and enforcing my faith in the future. The soap is soft, lots of palm and coconut oil I think. It may not last long and I may not be able to replace it for a very long time, if ever. But does that matter? Something else just as luscious can replace it. On my soap dish.
Day 2 of Effy Wild’s September Artfully Wild Blogalong
Welcome! Effy Wild's daily blog along starts today. I've been looking forward to it all day (well since last week!) and read a few blogs earlier and commented on them. But the day got away and now it's 10:50pm my time and I'm just posting! I think I might try a list tonight as it may be faster.
1. My day got away from me in the loveliest of ways really--a whirligig of connecting with friends, offering rides and arranging lunches, accepting offers of rides together to a retirement party in a couple of weeks, witnessing and giving requested suggestions through email, exchanging messages and an actual physical in person lunch.
2. The lunch was lovely. Ironic but lovely. It had originally been 4 coworker friends but 2 of them couldn't make it at the last minute. So it was Carol and I at the Friendship Gardens (haha!). Carol and I see each other all the time at work as we work in the same building--it's the other two coworkers who we don't see so that was the funny part. But we still had a good chat.
3. We ate at a picnic table in the Chinese pavilion in the Gardens. I love it there. My hubby's parents (from Hong Kong--Rob was born there) and their friends were responsible for building the pavilion which is striking and easily spotted from the main avenue running past the park. When we could get together outside last year, I met friends there for lunches then spent the cold winter driving past the pavilion, warmed by echoes of our summer laughter.
4. While we were chatting, two small birds swooped together close by then one of them flew into the pavilion. It fluttered by the top, trying to escape through the ceiling. Carol and I called directions to it. "Pause. Look. Feel the breeze. Fly lower." It found a perch and we studied it, originally thinking it was a sparrow but it was much smaller, flecked and with greenish wings. It chirped a little differently than a regular house sparrow. Finally it flapped by the ceiling some more before taking a determined low swoop through one of the open sides between two red columns. Carol and I whooped and cheered.
5. The Friendship Gardens is a city park in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada which has pretty flower beds, gorgeous shady trees and two small man-made lakes with lots of ducks and dragon flies. It has also has over a dozen statues and monuments erected by different ethnic groups . Every time I'm there, I like to walk around the park and look at the monuments. Today as I walked to one statue, I was amazed at the springiness of the grass and how it dampened my bare toes in my sandals. Refreshing.
6. My friend Jo-Anne and I exchanged many messages today about our lovely day together yesterday (see previous post, my last Wild Musing with Renee Magnusson). She sent me a photo of the wild sunflowers that clustered at the bottom of some wooden steps that we had noticed yesterday. And I sent her my daily picture and haiku which was of her china tea cup and about our time together. (see end of this post)
7. I love it when my haiku and pictures compliment each other. I wrote this yesterday too. It must be true! Lol.
8. Rob brought dinner home from Swiss Chalet. A nice surprise. And since I was sat outside on the back deck when he came home from work, that was where we ate. So peaceful. All the neighbours were quiet and the air lay soft and warm but not too hot. Rob rarely spends time outside, in fact this is the first time he's eaten outside all year so it was quite a monumental moment. And a delicious supper that neither of us had to cook.
9. I've had a nagging, almost pulsating pain in my left side for the past hour. We'll call it gas! Lol!
10. I used the little sliver of Ivory soap in the bathroom to wash my hands and pondered which soap I'd chose to use next. I love having an assortment of different soaps and am thinking maybe i can let go of two of my more special soaps, both strong patchouli. One I keep on my bedside table which I realise is a funny place for soap but I'm so in love with the scent and find it a comfort to sniff it. The other I bought in Arizona when visiting my son Dane last year. It's called Summer of Love and has a hand drawn picture of a VW van with daisies all over it on the sleeve. Maybe I can let go of one of them and actually use it. I can find other deliciously scented soap, I'm sure and i do have a little mountain of LUSH gift cards which may buy me some Karma soap. So maybe, just maybe I can choose one to put in the bathroom to celebrate September. Maybe...
Day 244 #100daysofsybwriting #100daysofhaiku
Lake breeze tangles hair
tea, sharing and laughter
Welcome! I'm Sue Blott: a writer of all things, a poet at heart, mom, wife, daughter, step-mom, grandma, tea drinker, tai chi-er, mystic, artist, dreamer...and now a blogger! This is my world.