I decided to go back to yesterday’s poetry prompts list and write a poem to go with my favorite grasshopper photograph.
Brewer: “For today’s prompt, pick an insect (any insect), make it the title of your poem, and then, write your poem. Possible titles include: “Praying Mantis,” “Ants,” and “Grasshoppers.” I’ll even except other creepy crawlies, like spiders, slugs, and leeches (shiver). Sorry in advance if this prompt gives you the heebie-jeebies; feel free to use insect repellent in your verse.”
one warm summer day
a debonair grasshopper
dines on a flower
spotting a street photographer
he grins between bites and bows
I have been taking a lot of naps, this past week. I also have not slept well during the night. Not sure which is the cause, and which is the effect. Sunday evening, I went to bed before nine o’clock and fell asleep directly. While I did wake up around two o’clock in the morning, I managed to sleep again until eight-thirty, when Al woke me.
May we go outside, please?
Transitions: It’s Raining, It’s Pouring
A Week Ago
The weather has been quite warm, this week. For a while it looked as though there would be snow accumulation by bedtime, but I don’t think it ever got cold enough. Mostly, there was light rain to help melt away the edges of the remaining snowbanks around the yard. Except for the north side of the garden shed, where because the sun never hits that side, the ice keeping the door from opening is the last to melt away in the spring.
I have been concentrating on not concentrating on anything other than chores and minding my diet. Saw the dentist, last Wednesday, and have to go in next week for fitting the crown and taking filling a small cavity. The numbness is only now fading from the local anesthetic. May try having the cavity filled without using the topical or local, since the cavity is small. Goes much better when it can be managed.
Charlie, Taking an Evening Nap
Saint Patrick’s/Gertrude’s Day 2018
Tonight I am up late, once again. Reading, this time. The Provence Cure for the Brokenhearted, a change of pace, having reread The Others series (Anne Bishop) from beginning through Lake Silence.
Too much to think about, the lot of it distracting me, when I would rather relax and recuperate. And so I seem to be managing that. My last BG reading was in the 90s, BP 109/61, and my blood oxygen level is at 97% and holding up without breathing exercises, for a change. I even spent twenty minutes or so on the elliptical machine, this morning. (That would be Monday morning.) The day blends into the next without my noticing. Before I married, when I started freelance editing/writing, I would sleep when tired, work when not, and eat when I remembered to do so. Totally unstructured. It was so much easier, all boundaries but the walls, floor and ceiling of the apartment and contents seeming amorphous.
As during my college years. I wonder if I will attend the 50th class reunion events, come autumn. I floated through those years, also, and many years after. Unstructured. Absorbing. Writing poetry, constructing crossword puzzles, journaling…reading everything and playing the piano a lot. I think I didn’t pay attention. Not to the outside.
I ask myself if I would change that, were I able. And I think not. I have arrived here, and I like it.
I will like it if I go to sleep before two o’clock. That would be about twelve hours since I started writing this post.
Cotoneaster fruit after yesterday’s winter storm, the bush to the east of the garden shed. We got quite a lot of snow, here. March typically has more snowfall than February. Because it’s warmer, I think.
surface when the silent snow falls
Thursday night and Friday, we got a new coating of snow, which involved a lot of shoveling and snow-blowing time on my husband’s part. I got to spend some of that time visiting with my sister in New England by telephone. We have determined that we talk together more often. It was good to catch up on what’s happening with the family. Neither of us is an initiator when it comes to making telephone calls. After the snowfall ended, I got out into the back yard with my camera, and also took some shots from the front door.
Snowy Garden Shed
Red, White and Trees
Generally, things have been going well at our house in spite of stuffy heads and some coughing. The dogs are in need of a trip to the groomer’s shop. I had to trim the hair around Thadd’s eyes, so that he could see. Charlie’s hair is finer and straight, while Thadd’s is totally curling and bushy.
We went to a visitation, yesterday evening, and had planned also to attend the prayer service for a man who was pastor at the church we attended when we got married, +25 years ago. Unfortunately, the receiving area had a very low ceiling, and there were lit candles, and so we ended up leaving after ten minutes or so. There were too many people in line to talk with his widow. I slept okay, last night, but still coughing, this morning. Will send a note to the family, once I replenish my stationery supply.
Having no decent pens, I’ve mail-ordered a couple that should be the right size and weight for my hand. Larger ones, which I have not bought for many years, are better, because I don’t get cramps in my hand from writing, like I do with the skinny ones, which I seem to clench at to keep them from slipping from between my fingers.
Ah! The time has slipped away, and I must eat breakfast.
So far, this has been a quiet month…sleeping in, recovering from the latest bouts of respiratory unrest and colds (perhaps, mild flu symptoms?), and a disinclination to do anything.
Enjoyed a long telephone call, last night, from a friend who moved to the Southwest U.S. some years ago. Fun to visit with someone, again. Also enjoyed getting a haircut, exchanging stories with my stylist. They gave their young child a live chicken for Christmas! So far it’s living in a coop in the garage and laying eggs. They’re contemplating (rural setting) expanding the chicken population, since it seems to be a great hit. I got to watch a couple of phone videos of the chicken recipient singing “Old McDonald Had a Farm” to the chicken.
My morning alarm has rung, and I must get out of bed and heat breakfast. (I cooked a tilapia fillet for the first time, last night, and it turned out well. Thinking to reheat the remaining ounces and call that breakfast.)
The past several years have not yielded many frost-on-the-windows photographs. I enjoyed the displays on our front windows during the beginnings of (now unseasonably cold, due to warmer winters) frigid temperatures here in the Red River Valley of the North.