Blog 2018

Not Just a Poet


So, today, I got up early, having been in a heightened level of activity due to the recent full moon – having cleaned the house yesterday after accomplishing finishing touches on the resetting of the metal fence on the W side of the property – having reset most of it in 99 degree heat w/a dew point of 75 – on Friday June 29 – having completed it on Saturday – having done on Sunday what is lost to me now in this blur of activity – Oh, yes, Sunday it rained – a lot – and I had water come into the NE corner basement so I was reassessed my downspout shortening and cleaned up the water – pulling carpet from the tack – running fans – putting the gutter back together letting the drywall dry – home on the range – life of an urban prairie poet –


So – as I was saying, today I got up early and readied for work and then went out and covered the plum tree with my large mosquito netting to keep the Japanese beetles off of it.  I saw the first one on one of the rose bushes about eight days ago, and now these few days later they have already begun their leaf-skeletonizing ways.  So I decided to get out there and cover that tree before heading off to work for 4 hours after which I went to buy eight bags of cedar mulch on sale, came home, checked email, got a rejection I didn’t want (some of them I expect, so the disappointment doesn’t bite as much as it did today), took a mediation nap, did my yoga, repurposed some boards and shed shingles into a window well covering (just in case—I’d rather not get water in there [and btw I rescued 2 frogs from the window well when I went to inspect the location of water entry—who knew they were in there? – they could have died or been picked up by a hawk because they couldn’t jump out—a cute toad and a super leopard frog—rare!]) so – ANY WAY –


I reattached the downspout and sealed the window well and tapped the dried carpet back into the tack and debated making banana bread – but instead finally unpacked my new extendable pole for gutter cleaning (extends to 18 feet – no more climbing ladders –  this baby attaches to a water compressor – yea!) – checked the light in the yard – a new solar flood light to help keep foxes at bay – Oh, I didn’t tell of the foxes did I? – well, later, that – and had a light supper, walked the dog, and returned home to realign my walking path blocks around the Norway maple and laid seven of the eight bags of mulch around that area beneath the tree.  It’s full of hostas and sweet woodruff; anemone, one hydrangea, a carpet rose, sedum varieties, a few lilies and ferns.


Yep.  That’s how I live.  What I do between writing, and there is never a dull moment.  I am the Prairie Poet, living as though I were on a hobby farm.  Urban farmer.  With the foxes you’d think I’d get chickens – well, maybe – one day…. 


As for the rejection—well, it’s sometimes difficult to embrace the revolving aspect of the ever-elusive, but publication does happen between all that so any bad feelings are currently outside, left to the summer evening, left somewhere beneath the sweet smell of cedar.