Which is okay by me. Poor Larry has caught a bad cold and is couch-bound today. Yesterday we had our shopping day--groceries, thrift stores, the bank, the library, etc. We were both tired when we got home, but it wasn't long before Larry was more than tired: he was running a fever.
So today he is laying low, drinking fluids and sleeping. I'm catering to him, because after all, as hard as he works, the Lord knows he has earned a little coddling.
I am puttering. I have three pieces of furniture waiting for me to get back to work on them, but instead I'm doing homely things. Dusting, cleaning, laundry, dividing and re-potting aloe plants, things like that.
There is such satisfaction in these little chores, and it's a welcome rest after the busy day yesterday.
The kitchen window is full of rooting aloe plants. I hope they take! The star above left is Blenko glass; the ball on the left is a witch ball, and the one on the right is a friendship ball. |
I also took care of something that's been needing to be done: calling the cell phone company to see about a replacement phone. I looked on their website but the phones are so expensive.
I haven't been writing much poetry lately, as it needs a certain amount of headspace, so to speak. My head has been full of worry over the roof leak and stress about getting the taxes done, neither conducive to writing. As I was sorting files the other day, I found these lines, written some time back. It must have been a much snowier winter than the one we've had so far!
Ode to a February Thaw (February 2014)
Late last night as I tried sleeping
I thought I heard the sound of dripping,
dripping dripping dripping from my roof and eaves.
Rain was falling, wind was blowing, snow was melting
Melting, melting , from my roof and eaves.
Listen, I cried to my comfy husband,
do you hear that sound from off the roof-end?
That dripping dripping dripping from our roof and eaves?
He was sleeping, loudly snoring, eyes unopened,
Did not hear the melting melting from our roof and eaves.
I raised the window, outward gazing,
listening to the drip, drip, dripping,
that oozing, sogging, melting flowing from our roof and
eaves.
In the yard the mud is showing, gushing, mushing,
turning brown the melting thawing as it leaves.
Goodbye! Goodbye! Farewell to ice,
to snow of dreadful frozen height!
Soon I’ll be slogging, slogging, slogging
along the paths all round my yard.
Mud will be sucking, slurping, pulling, tracking,
coating floors and boots and dogs and cars.
Then I will search the clouds above me,
hoping, praying to somehow see
some hopeful sign of falling, falling,
gentle whiteness from
above
Some sifting, freezing, drifting, snowing
It’s snow! I’ll cry. The mud is gone! What’s not to love?
Copyright Susanna Holstein. All rights reserved. No Republication or Redistribution Allowed without attribution to Susanna Holstein.
A puttering day is the best! I hope Larry feels better very soon and that you don't get it. My husband won't let me coddle him. I wish he would. Your dripping, dripping, dripping poem tickled me!
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