Preparations

Preparations

A few weeks ago deer gathered beneath the apple trees, meadowland and mountains a security of sorts, although coyote (and ever rumored mountain lion) must have been aware of their presence.  Early one morning a late birthed fawn darted about, no adult in sight.  I slowed the car, pondered what to do; startled it more, and my heart grieved.  Sweetness lured them, juicy ripe, bordered on rotten; can't imagine amount of sugar consumed.

The wild orchard is vacant now, temptation played its part, trees less weighted, resplendent for a stint in temporary burnished glory.  Now that's gone too; first frost has lashed her icy tongue and deer slip out of woodland earlier; perhaps for breeding, but consuming as much green as possible.  I wrap my shawl closer, walk the dogs, their awareness of danger or hardship almost non-existent; wolf-like instincts dormant as they beg the cats to befriend them.  Fireside has yet to be shared.

A fine line exists between wild and domestic.  How long would it take for survival and instinct to kick in, or would my puppies be like the fawn, startled out of safety, nature taking its course?  How would I fare if grocery store vanished, if I had to can apples and store food for winter?

Apples over-ripe
a last desperate banquet
before winter's fast.

by Margaret Bednar, November 9, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Just One Word - Burnished"

Red

Red

He'd sit amidst the apples in my Radio Flyer,

radish-colored hair wind-tossed, toothy grin
a bit rogue, mischief more heartthrob than bedeviled.

Shyness forgotten as I'd laugh out loud,
race down country hills, me imitating Red Hawks,
arms outstretched, he an Irish-Setter (no need for pretend).

by Margaret Bednar, July 21, 2019

for "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini-Challenge: Pick 2 Prompts, Any Prompts then Senruyu or Elfchen or Cherita".   I "Cheritad" and used "Artistic Interpretations - Color It" and "Weekend Mini-Challenge Portraiture"

I did gather new color swatch names for the paint colores (Radio Flyer, Radish, Hearthrob, Bedeviled, Red Hawk, Irish)

The Performers

The Performers

Butterflies dance sun-drenched drunk
amongst Marigolds, Lavender, and Violets,
ignore puppies in clown-like pursuit.

Kitty's tail twitches as she regally sits
upon windowsill, a ringmistress of sorts
watches performers spin, tumble and soar...

green eyes plotting a Houdini-style escape.

by Margaret Bednar, June 16, 2019

linked with "The Sunday Muse #60" and The Sunday - the Wednesday Muse #12 - Sevenling Poem".
and "The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - The Tuesday Platform"

Photo for Sunday Muse #60

I invite you to listen to me read my poem:

Shabby Chic

Shabby Chic

I've settled-in for morning's coffee
or an evening's movie a zillion times,
cushions still comfortable though worn;

held my babies as they sipped bottles,
learned to read, watched way too much Disney,
held an old, aging dog;

reborn as puppies toss about,
dislodge sleeping feline,
warm spot apparently not reserved.

New pillows at each end,
a face-lift of sorts,
run my hand over faded fabric

and bump where son dripped Gorilla Glue,
(I've still not recovered from that)
grant timeworn a bit more life.

by Margaret Bednar, May 2, 2019

This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Wordy Thursday with Wild Woman - Celebrating the Ordinary"

Redmond

Redmond

As far as I know
I've not a drop of Irish blood
coursing through my veins

yet swoon when I hear said accent,
dream of traversing Cliffs of Moher
in County Clare or the Ring of Kerry,
raise a glass in the town of Killarney.

(Just reading an Ireland map
makes one a poet...)

A mop of red hair, fair of face,
and I believe I've found
my Wise Protector,
a drop of Irish and I settle
for not one but two.

One I name Blue
for the adventuring we will do
upon mountain's Blue Ridge,
another I name Redmond,

nicknamed Red,
not for the outlaw O'Hanlan,
although he's a bit mischievous,
as puppies will be.  It's those moments
when he settles beside me, sitting so righteous,
so dignified for one so young,

that my heart swells, remembers
the comforting reds of Grandmother's house
and know my earliest memories
of fragrant trellised blooms,
warm tart pies, and red shuttered windows

still linger in my memory, if not by blood,
then perhaps a craving for the comfort
of red (Lusca) wine and blue skies...
and two puppies, Blue and Red.

by Margaret Bednar, March 23, 2019

need something to pair with that cabbage?  https://www.celticwhiskeyshop.com/wines-by-country/Irish-Wine/Lusca-Irish-Wines

My poem reminiscing about my Grandmother's house:  https://margaretbednar365.blogspot.com/2015/02/red.html

This poem is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Weekend Mini Challenge - Nomenclature"   Anyone an join the fun - have you tried writing a poem?... I welcome you to try! 

9/365 "Tuckered Out"

"Tuckered Out"

Glad I have a walking partner that is willing to go the distance with me ... I actually have three dogs to walk and they are all equally as eager to explore the neighborhood.  I played a bit with the lighting on this photo as it was taken mid-day.  I think this would be a fun one to paint and put in a few "pink" highlights in her fur to match her tongue.