Poem for 2019
House Cats, Kittens, and Dogs
Based on my experience so far this year (hee hee) here's my version of one of those cute Facebook poems : 'Plant dreams... Pull weeds... Mulch, mulch... Mulch some more... Then grow a happy life.'
Oh, and 'Cuddle the cat... hug the dog'. Mustn't forget them! And because it's a poem (cute, but still a poem) you have to visualise each tiddly phrase on a new line.
Have had the most relaxing breakfast on the patio with the kittens and Escher (who has dog-dribbled all over my green jeans). Now to implement my 'an even hotter day' plan - get out there early! Weed and mulch before the sun comes up.
Oiy! Are you listening to me? Stop typing and get out there! Go! Now! Oh, change out of those apres-gardening jeans - 8:30 in the morning and you've gone apres-gardening? I don't think so. You deserve to be dog-dribbled on.
Two Hours Later...
Oh boy! I have barrowed twenty loads of mulch, some on the path in The Hump, others on the next piece of garden where the little Cercis tree is growing. Escher has kept me company - well, he's been sprawled on the lawn in the shade nearby, stretching out his elegant long brown legs. Winnie - not so relaxing - has required her tennis ball to be thrown. Many times. She drops it into my wheelbarrow of mulch, stares at me, and barks ('throw the ball').
Thursday 3rd January
So far this morning I've only shifted ten more loads of mulch, and watered the roses again. Then the sun and I both got too hot, so I came inside.
Oh no! All the doors were wide open and the kittens were 'lost'. Well, of course they weren't - they were asleep tucked safely inside the grand piano. They're tiny enough to crawl in even when the lid is down. Playing the piano would certainly have flushed them out, and that's what I'm about to do. Not a composition for 'Prepared Piano and Kittens', either - 'El Abacian' (Albeniz) is the Piece de Jour. Of all the pieces in his Iberia suite this is one of the easiest, for me anyway. And I looooove the Spanish guitar inspired harmonies.
The Hump Gardens January 2019
Escher has gone home. Sob, sob. I miss him! I miss his brown bulk, and his smoochiness. The Collies bark-talk at me demanding to do things - throw the stick, throw the ball. Escher bark-talks to say hello and tell me he loves me. That's what I reckon!