Waiting for Supper

Waiting for Supper

The raccoon’s nails click

on the wooden stairs

as she climbs the darkness

to the deck.

She waddles across

to the round white table

and crumb-mines

for bits of dropped burger

and chunks of strawberry

from tonight’s alfresco meal.

I watch her front paws dig

at the cracks in the deck,

search for fallen food.

I watch her lick

under the barbecue,

hungry for grease drippings.

She looks at the house.

Does she see me?

Or does she see

her own reflection

in the patio door?

Does she see

her mask and dense fur

and city-fed bulk?

She feels no danger,

no threat as

I unlock the door

and slide it open.

Still, she searches

for stolen feast.

Not until I open

the screen does

she hiss and clatter off,

clicking down

the wooden stairs

and across

the flagstones below.

I sense she is there,

there hidden

in the night woods

at the edge of the ravine.

I can’t see her

but her wild eyes

can see me.

Intelligent and patient,

she will wait

until my light goes out

and I climb to my bed.

She will click-clack

up the wooden stairs,

return

to explore and feast.

I feel her

watching,

waiting and watching

in the night woods.

The photo of the table is mine.

The Experience of Air Travel

The Experience of Air Travel

See people ahead of you take extra time to place their belongings in the plastic security trays:  belt, shoes, jacket, watch, jewellery, cell phone, money clip, pocket change, car keys, along with other unidentifiable metal things.  See time slow down.

See the pilot rush past you on the escalator.  Feel him nearly knock you down, when his luggage hits your back.  See that you are both rushing to the same plane.

Hear a male passenger bragging to his female seatmate about his $200,000. a-year job, organizing and selling shipping boxes.

See his seatmate squeeze herself against the window and turn away from the man.  See him not notice and hear him talking and talking.

See your seatmate use his I-pad.  See him alternate, every 15 minutes, between playing a game where airplanes drop bombs on tanks below and reading passages from I John in the Bible.

Feel your seatmate poke you in the ribs each time he moves his arm, now that he’s switched to his laptop.  See him stare at you when you mention this.  Feel yourself move so that a different rib gets poked from time to time, to ease the ache.  Think that he obviously hasn’t read the I John3:18 verse yet.

See a man playing solitaire on an I-pad.  See him tap his left leg 3 times and snap his fingers twice, before each card move.

Smell the foot odor from the people behind you.  Hear that they have made themselves comfortable by removing their sneakers.   Feel uncomfortable.  Turn on your overhead air.

Hear the music from the personal earphones of the man three rows ahead.  Think about his hearing loss.  Think about his taste in music.

Feel amazed at the ability of the woman across the aisle, to sleep undisturbed through the noisy outbursts of her own flatulence.  Avoid breathing.

See the couple in the seat ahead of you, faces pressed together in the space between the seats; lots of kissing, lots of tongue action.  Feel anguish that you are not asleep with your eyes shut.  Hear the spit-swappers complain to the attendant that the cabin air is dry and they are so thirsty.

See clouds above and below.  Feel wonder at the dark shadows on the waves of cloud.  Think about writing a poem.

Feel empathy and warmth at the patience and resourcefulness of parents travelling with children and babies.

Hear two women discussing which one`s daughter has been accepted into the best university.  Hear them say, ``You know… like… and like, you know`` many times.  Like...too many times.

See a couple ask for tomato juice.  See them pour their own vodka into their glasses.  Feel curiosity about how they got on the plane carrying booze.

See cities and rivers, lakes and farms spread like the screen of an aerial Google map.  Think about how tidy and perfect it looks.

See a couple springing into a grooming routine, prior to landing.  See him lick his fingers and pat down her stray hairs.  See her lick her fingers and pat his dyed red curls.  See her tweeze his eyebrows.   See his wrinkles and pouty face.  See her French manicure gel nails and her three-carat diamond ring.  See how thin and fashionable they are.

See passengers unbuckling, standing and reaching for overhead luggage, as soon as the wheels hit the runway.   Hear yourself breathe.  Feel yourself be patient.

Think about how temporary discomfort will get you to someplace you really want to be.

See and hear human behaviour.   Feel how intriguing it is.

Thank the flight attendants.  Feel sympathy; they have to work these flights every day.

Feel glad you have a sense of humor.

Feel glad you have arrived.

Feel glad and excited that you`ll soon see your grandsons and their parents.

Feel good.

See yourself walking off the plane, through the airport and out into the passenger pick up lane.

See them coming.

Feel yourself smiling.

Home Again

Home Again

We sat on our swing seat in the side yard and talked.  I’ve been away for a week, visiting family and a new grandchild.  My husband stayed at home, caught a cold and flu.  While I was laughing and enjoying my grandsons, daughter and son-in-law, he was home sneezing, coughing with headache and sore muscles.

He is getting better so we sat outside yesterday and soaked up sunshine, the breeze and each other’s company.  We breathed the warm air, heard birdsong and chipmunk chatter, noticed the smell of grass, the shades of green and rose on the apple tree leaves, watched towels flapping on the line, saw falcons soaring high in search of a meal and heard leaves turning inside-out warning of rain to come.

We sipped wine, rocked slowly and noted the calm and green of our yard.  We avoided discussing all the work that needed care, chatted only about what we had each done over the week we’d been apart.   We talked.  We caught up.

I shared stories of being away, of a neighbour using a leaf blower to clean his deck four times a day, of another sharing his bagpipe lessons with the whole block, of geese crossing the main road to get from the harbour to the duck pond, of walks with family and of the pleasure of grandchildren.   He shared stories of driving new Canadians to the Legislature in Fredericton, of driving students to Safe Grad, of taking my mother on errands, of mowing lawns, then of becoming ill and of spending days and nights sweating and coughing…energy-less.

I told him about two hundred-foot Black Oaks and waking to nothing but sky and leaves outside the windows.  He told me about staring at the ceiling waiting for the next coughing attack.

We both shared stories of sudden rainstorms on sunny days—rain plummeting, bouncing up again from the ground, and of wind-driven rain in slanting sheets, then as sudden, sunshine glittering in the drops, and the light, the light fresh-washed and glowing.

We talked about missing each other.  We talked about love and about how much we need each other.  We talked about how we are grateful for each other.

We snuggled on the swing seat in our side yard and talked, happy to be home together again.

Photos are mine.

Wisteria Vine

Wisteria Vine

Our Chinese Wisteria vine is blooming.

So what?  Well…

They said it couldn’t flourish here in Zone 4.  They said it needs Zone 6 to thrive.  But here it is.  Chinese Wisteria, a three-year old plant growing on the pergola that shelters our back door.

They said it wouldn’t grow.  They said if it did grow, it wouldn’t bloom.  But, here it is.  Here it is with its sweet fragrance, twining its dark grey bark counter-clockwise around the vertical supports.  Here it is with its delicate oval leaves on waving stems 4 to 16 inches long.

We were surprised when we saw the tiny corn-on-the-cob shaped blossoms beginning.  Though we had hoped it would bloom, we didn’t think it would because all the experts said it couldn’t.  

What a delight to see the little cobs lengthen and turn purple-blue, to see tiny florets on a raceme!  And, not just one but many. There are more than a dozen stems with clusters of purple-blue flowers swaying in the spring breeze at our door.

Our Chinese Wisteria is blooming…so what? 

Well…it’s blooming, so there.

And...so there.

All photos are mine.

Sackville Waterfowl Park #3

During our walk around the Sackville Waterfowl Park,

we were in a cathedral of nature. 

We breathed fragrances of morning marsh air,

new leaves, sun-warmed wooden walkways

and wildflowers near the paths.

We enjoyed the textures of the cattails, the rough railings on the walkways, the bark of birches, the stiff grasses and rushes,

the weightless sensation of leaves, as we brushed by.

The views off the pathways were filled

with aging and growth...

nature happening everywhere.  We stayed on the paths,

and touched and took nothing.

The Park is clear that nothing is to be disturbed. 

It was enough to look, to breathe in and to walk.

 

There were brooks and meadows, swathes of cattails,

bowers of birch and everywhere,

sky and leaves reflected at water's edge.

There was beauty in the cattails and at every turn on the path. 

We had to stop

again and again to gaze and wonder. 

As we stared, we saw a hidden nest here, a wildflower there. 

We heard a warble or a trill or a squawk

or leaves rustling and a whir of wings.

And all the while, we strolled in sun's warmth

or in the kiss of dappled shade. 

It was sacred space.

We enjoyed the day

 and this place of sanctity in nature.

And felt better for the time spent.

As we left the Sackville Waterfowl Park, 

we breathed more gently on our way.

Note:

All photos are mine.

The phrases describing the Sackville Waterfowl Park

as a cathedral of nature and

as a sacred space were first suggested by friends,

so are not original to me.

Sackville Waterfowl Park #2

The Sackville Waterfowl Park was established in 1988 as a joint venture of the Town of Sackville and Ducks Unlimited Canada.  The cooperation of Mount Allison University, the province of New Brunswick, the Canadian Wildlife Service of Environment Canada, together with corporate and individual supporters
made this park possible. 

Have you been there yet?  Admission is free.

Though we could have chosen a guided tour, we did not. 

 Instead, we began our walk at the Anglican Church

on Main Street, Sackville and guided ourselves.

A map of the Sackville Waterfowl Park is available

showing the pathways

 and each of the entrances to the park. 

To see the map, click here.

In addition to ducks, we saw Red-Winged Blackbirds

and this Tree Swallow who sat for a photo.

Most of the time, the Tree Swallows swooped over our heads,

flitting to and from their nest boxes.

This pair of Canada Geese took time to rest with their 5 goslings,

on a board floating in the water.

When the babies were ready to go again,

they swam off in a protected line.

We noticed a muskrat lodge hidden in the cattails and grasses.

 

And later saw the muskrat.

More about the Sackville Waterfowl Park tomorrow...

Words in red will take you to another site with additional information, if you click on them.

All photos are mine.

Sackville Waterfowl Park

Have you walked through the Sackville Waterfowl Park yet? 

For the price of the gas to travel to Sackville, New Brunswick,
the park is yours to enjoy. 

Admission is free.

The Sackville Waterfowl Park is 55 acres in the heart of Sackville. It is managed by the Town of Sackville

with the help of a voluntary

Waterfowl Park Advisory Committee.

The park has 3.5 kilometers of trails

and boardwalks that pass through shallow fresh water wetlands

and low uplands.

We stepped onto the path

and before we had walked two minutes,

I was taking photos.

 

I couldn't resist the beauty, the birds, muskrats,

wild flowers, alders and birches,

so much to enjoy at each curve in the path.

I took many pictures, so many that I will spread

them out over several blogs.

The walk was amazing.  You'll see.

And more photos to come...