I turned over my pillow and
went off to sleep again; finally I
turned over and stretched out;
the papered windows are bright,
so I know morning is here, yet
I stay in bed because my quilt
is as warm as spring;
do not stop me from being lazy!
Better to comfort me with
pleasant words; outside the cock crows
but I continue to sleep, no longer
emulating those who
attend early court.
(Imperial audiences were held before sunrise. Translation, Rewi Alley)
|"Prairie" - Karen Hanmer|
I can lie there feeling satisfied about the completion of fall garden tasks. Herbs harvested and frozen, and pesto made; a few jars of homemade jam placed on the shelf; seeds collected and saved; compost spread on the raspberry and rhubarb beds; leaves raked and either spread in the beds along the fence or composted; bean and morning glory vines pulled down and composted; one last weeding done; containers divested of their annuals (composted) and brought in the basement; the compost heap turned one last time. Other than some annual herbs cut after the first hard frost, I’ll wait until early spring to cut down anything else, so the garden looks like the season, full of russets and golds which will fade into browns and tans as winter progresses. Satisfied to let things be.
Starting out through the garden on a morning walk, I hear a downy woodpecker singing an it’s-a-good-day song, and spot it high up, traversing the rough-barked trunk of the silver maple across the alley; as I crane my head back to look, I notice two red tailed hawks higher above, heading north on business.
I give thanks for the non-human members of our biotic community who grace us with their presence; who, simply by living their lives, help make the earth a fit place to live, for themselves and for us.
Blooms Day Since 1904
National Poetry Month in the Garden