Category Archives: Poetry

Fresh Fruit…?

Last year, there were kiwi flowers on one of the first vines we planted. There weren’t many, but we were so excited. At last!

But…then the beetles came. In waves. In hordes. A blanket of shiny, greenish, brownish ick destroying our vines, our buds…our spirit.

Now the buds are back. I don’t want to count my berries before they fruit…but they are everywhere on the vines and, with a little luck and milky spore, hopefully the Japanese beetles will not be as bad this year.

20180513_142454.jpg

Flowers started forming
On last year’s kiwi vines
Teeny, tiny buds appeared
At last! On fruit we’d dine!

But then, in hordes the beetles came
And blanketed the rows
Holding on with sticky feet
Those munching, crunching foes

Our defenses were no match for them
We put up quite a fight
But still, they beat us easily
That horrid, evil blight

Again, small buds are forming
We’re hopeful that this time
The milky spore has done it’s job
And on fresh fruit we’ll dine!

20180513_142504.jpg

A Little Patch

May I have a garden, Mom
One that’s only mine?
A little patch is all I need
A corner would be fine

I want to plant 9 carrots
I’ll watch them while they grow
Two broccoli, one cabbage
Are all the seeds I’ll sow

I’ll have to put a path in
And build a little fence
An arch for beans to grow on
A “Welcome” sign makes sense

May I have a garden, Mom?
One that’s only mine?
A little patch is all I need
In the bright sunshine

Oversleeping

As I wandered around outside yesterday, I noticed some odd behavior. While the grass is greening up nicely and some of my lettuce is sprouting, the rest of the crew has hit snooze on the alarm clock one too many times.

My lilac is budding out, as well as my rose bushes. But the kiwi, trees and almost everything else missed the memo. IT’S SPRING!

Wake up my friends, wake up!
Smell spring’s fresh air at last
Stretch your bright green leaves
The time for sleep has past

Come kiwi vines, come berries
Break out the freshened shoots
Your rest has been a long one
It’s time to use those roots!

Those trees out in the pasture
Are budding left and right
They’re small but strong and mighty
They’re ready for the fight

Oh kiwi, grapes and berries
Please join us all today
It’s time to show your mettle
Get this season underway!

20180425_145812.jpg

Lilac bush

20180425_142216.jpg

Rose bushes

 

Enemies Beware

Thorns protect the sacs
Prickly, pointy and piercing
Enemies beware

Hundreds patiently wait
Feral, ferocious and fierce
Villains be warned

An army soon will emerge
Callous, cut-throat and cruel
Invaders be ready

20180425_142219.jpg

20180425_142229.jpg

20180425_142302.jpg

We’re Ready!

We’re reaching! We’re straining!
We’re stretching our leaves!
Hey sunshine! Get out here
And roll up your sleeves!

The chickens have finished
The garden is planned
We need to get out there
Please give us a hand!

We’re ready! We’re eager!
It’s time for the show!
Warm weather is nearing…
Let’s get on our grow!

The Preview

Summer’s coming
Muddy feet
Fresh-picked berries
Ripe and sweet

Hot sun shining
Grass turns green
Kids are playing
Squeals and screams

Kitties climbing
Garden beds
Ripe tomatoes
Leafy heads

Harsh winds blow
Rain soaks the ground
Sun shines bright
Warmth all around
20180226_162301.jpg20180226_164027.jpg20180226_162043.jpg

Bitter Victories

These bitter winds
I do not mind
Nor the chilly nights

The salted roads
Don’t bother me
I like the cold and ice

The ground is cold
The frost is thick
The wind has quite a bite

It’s how I know
When Spring arrives
Most grubs won’t see the light

Let Winter stay
Until late March
‘Til all her work is done

We’ll win a fight
Against our foe
Beetles: 5; Us: 1

20170709_194151-1

Tender Shoots

Slowly and with little steps
They grow each passing day
Their tender limbs reach to the sun
They blossom in new ways

We gently tend those little seeds
And help them plant their roots
We strengthen them with soft blown winds
Those gentle little shoots

When it’s time to take them out
And plant them on their own
We worry what will happen
When they’re out there all alone

As the season stretches out
Their fruit grows on the vine
We water them and with a smile
We know they’ll be just fine
screenshot_2018-01-06-19-35-28.png

The Meow

A mournful meow, so loud
Is coming from the garage
It sounds a little proud
This eery meow

I stop and take a breath
My fingers on the door
I know I will see death
What is it now?

Once she brought a mouse
A mole, and then a bird
She brings them to the house
And then she’ll chow

And when this time she meowed
And brought me to the door
There she stood so proud
And I said, “Wow”

A rabbit, limp and dead
Was lying on our rug
(At least it had its head)
Boots sweetly meowed

The Massacre

“There was a different looking cat under the chicken coop.”

This may seem like an innocent enough comment, but coming from my 5-year-old as he held an empty egg carton…it sounded ominous.

“A different looking cat?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was under the coop playing with a chicken. That’s why I didn’t get eggs.”

Uh oh.

“I’ll go check,” I said as I went out in the bright, noon sunshine and headed toward the coop.

“Mommy, be careful!” called my oldest, worry in his eyes.

I was halfway to the coop when I saw movement. A few more steps and the “different kind of cat” shot out from under the coop, a chicken in its jaws.

A fox had been in the henhouse. 

Surely, I thought, he had just captured PJ, our one free-range hen. There was no way a fox could actually get in the henhouse. Right?

I checked on the smaller flock first. The three ladies looked a little shaken up, but aside from a few loose feathers, they were unharmed.

I could see a lifeless chicken under the coop. I could only assume it was PJ. On closer inspection, her head and body were all intact. She looked almost peaceful.

But wait…if PJ was in one piece without a leg, thigh or head missing…what did the fox have in its mouth?

It was then I heard it.

The eerie sound of silence.

Not a whisper or a rustle came from the coop. Not a hen wandered in the pen.

I slowly opened the laying box and peeked inside. All I could see were feathers.

I opened the big door and saw bodies everywhere.

It was a feathery massacre.

Not one of the Pearl White Leghorns had survived. All bodies, save one, were accounted for. The missing body, I could only assume, was in the belly of the fox.

I don’t know if I truly interrupted his theft, or if he was only going to take one bird all along. I’ve read that the fox can get in a “killing frenzy” when cooped up with a bunch of hens, but usually will only leave with one. Creepy.

As I started to remove the dead, I noticed something strange. Only two hens were headless.

The rest were just…dead. There was no outward sign of fowl play. 

As I picked the bodies up with my three-layer-gloved hands, I saw what had happened. The fox, had broken all their necks, but only taken one as a prize.

The guilt set in as I realized what had really happened. The words I had spoken only the night before echoed in my mind.

“We need to butcher the hens before winter. All of them except the new ones.”

The wily fox had heard me and granted my wish.