It’s an act of faith, really,
ordering a seed catalog in January,
at least it is when you live in the north,
rooted deeply in a cherished belief
that this might be the year the spinach doesn’t bolt
when it’s 3 inches tall.
It’s rather like buying a lottery ticket,
Most of the enjoyment lies
in visions of potential,
in dreams of green.
Every beginning holds within it
shadows of an ending.
Pine cones foreshadow firewood.
Every ending holds within it
seeds of new beginnings.
After fire the fireweed blooms.
Live in the middle as much as possible
Climb a pine tree, pick the fire weed,
let beginnings and endings fend for themselves.
#273
Some things are other things
than what we may have thought,
like mushrooms that are edible versus
mushrooms that are not.
or caraway seeds scattered
on your kitchen table
that though surrounded by the crumbs
may not be from your bagel.
And if that isn’t quite enough,
even unseen things are fraught
with that which masquerades
as that which it is not.
Words of love can hide disdain
while laughter hides the tears,
truth is often shot with lies,
and not as it appears.
Say you love me, laugh with me,
and don’t go in disguise.
I’d rather eat dubious caraway
than have you tell me lies.
#223
So there I was, just me and the mad dogs,
my English roots glinting in the mid day sun,
cleaning out the greenhouse.
Telling over old pots, faded seed packets, and leaky watering cans
and why do I have three of those little fork type hand tools
and only one trowel? Taking everything outside and scrubbing
off the neglect, resigning myself to consigning
the worst to the rubbish tip.
Yes there I was, the sun spinning around me
when you found me and shaking
your head said “look at your shoulders, they’re bright red”
and I looked although I knew you wouldn’t lie about
pain; current or impending
“Oh my, this is going to hurt” I thought.
I really ought to know better, and I put on
a shirt like closing the barn door and later that day,
aloe anointed, fiery red shoulders
banked to a dull glow, I sigh
“Oh well, at least I got the greenhouse cleaned out.”
#219
My CD "New Traditions" is available for listening or digital download
My CD "Breathe" is available to listen to or for digital download
Linda Studley is a writer, songwriter, independent recording artist, and sometime graphic artist living in Northern BC, Canada
Linda Studley 