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| Pumpkins in my pumpkin patch at the Community Gardens.
Just a day of travel brings me back to the Midwest. It was, I must admit, a long day of travel...car...ferry...car...flight...flight...car. Sigh.
The weather was cool when I arrived home at Midnight, but the sky was clear. It was great fun perusing my gardens by the light of the waxing moon. I believe I slept the sleep of the dead that night and woke to early morning fog and drizzle.
By noon I knew it had cleared enough to take a hike out to the Community Gardens to check on my pumpkin patch. I don't know what I was expecting, but the gardens were huge and beautiful. Pumpkins everywhere!! It will be a grand Halloween at this old house this year.
So, in a few days I will be back in the swing of things here. For now...still some sand in my shoes and a few tears in my eyes.
Until tomorrow.
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Wednesday, August 06, 2014
What a difference a day makes!
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4 comments:
I know just how you feel...
The WebCam - Robb Foster
Hundreds of miles away I sit
To watch the ferry pass the ditch
So slow and sure, it makes it’s way
The sign to start a brand new day
Cedar Island's where she’s bound
And starts her day to make this round
I’m with her as she disappears
She'll glide away to distant piers
Not far behind, her sister waits
She’ll also leave this Silver Lake
Some distant shore I wonder on
It’s where, I hear, they quarter swans
I smile and watch as anchors weigh
With puffs of briny harbor spray
I’m with her, briefly, on this morning
While she slips her distant mooring
But as she crosses Pamlico
I realize that I must go
I know, now, that her prop is churning
Reinforced in my returning
With tasks to do that cannot wait
They're stacked upon a busy plate
I’ll wrestle through the hectic fray
To soldier onward, as they say
But moments stolen from those chores
For wispy scenes of distant shores
Though brief, my pause, as morning broke
… ...
I stood upon old Ocracoke
Thank you for the poem, Robb. I do love this one. You made me cry though. Can't you write a poem about pumpkins and sunflowers?
I will; most definitely. Give me a little time and you will see it. I didn't mean to make you cry, but I share (if I may be so bold) a wistful longing for a place that has touched my heart and soul; for reasons that one cannot put a finger on... It's place that has that special something... In the meantime... Here's one I wrote some time ago about gardening.
February's Prayer - Robb Foster
February has seen it's day
The lakes and ponds are thawing
The glimmer in my wife's young eyes
Of seeds she will be sowing
The twinge of ache is almost here
Of weeds I will be hoeing
Whilst all the while a thought I'll have
Of love that will be growing
I ponder on this winter's day
With hopes and dreams and prayers
That while I task the gardens wrath
Thoughts fall upon it's wares
That bounty sought, with hearty till
And work to pass the days
The sweat will fall upon my brow
Night please be on your way
But then again at times it seems
Those ones who will partake
Are creatures small and creatures large
Too numerous to take
And though in jest I shout and stomp
To scare them all away
I steal a silent smile myself
And want them all to stay
Here you go.
The Pumpkin Patch - Robb Foster
“Oh my goodness!” she said to me
“Go look at the pumpkin patch!”
“If these were dinosaur eggs,” she gasped
“I’d fear they were ready to hatch!”
"So big and so round and quite profound
Out in the community garden
I have the best, I must confess...”
With that, I offered a “Pardon?”
Haltingly, now, I walk along
To see such a wondrous sight
Of pumpkins large enough, it seems
That, maybe, could give such a fright
So, as I saunter, ever closer
Now even I’m picking up pace
And unbelieving as I was
A flush has come over my face
She was right, I’ll have to admit
The size of them, wow, ready to pick
But we both know, dear reader of prose
My proper compliment... might need a trick
And then, my friend, in the coming of days
I'll carry these back to the yard
As careful I’ll be, the ‘barrow and me
Let’s pray that none will get marred...
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