Rose Garden Antics

 

© Jeanne E Webster—All Rights Reserved

Rose Garden Antics

 

Enjoying a swing on the patio

Sitting in our little “Rose Garden”

Looking at that pale blue sky

Rain’s gone now, I’ll pardon

~

Blurred with white chalky scrapes

Overhead is a see-through image

Last night’s leftover half-moon

Must ‘a lost the rest in scrimmage

~

Hummingbirds all a’ squeak

A winged rush hour traffic jam

Zooming like mad robotic bees

Deftly loving the ambrosial jamb

~

Gum trees shake off their sleep

Casting shade all over the hills

Cicada males not yet awake

Dreaming of their mating skills

~

Melodious call of an oriole male

Not yet sipping of the nectar

Crepe myrtle in fuchsia regalia

Rose petals, the sun rays detector

~

A blue jay is squaring off afar

Probably out protecting his mate

Neighborhood roosters a’ crowing

Pleased that the showers did vacate

~

Dull thumping railroad cars

Mulishly moving down the tracks

Loaded with sooty coal, I guess

Heading up north, a’ clickity-clack

~

A hummer just flew past my nose

Stopped on a dime then returned

Saw my bright red shirt, I reckon

Inching closer, drooled and yearned

~

Ready to propel even closer now

Till I uttered, “I don’t think so!”

Off it flew with a squeak and snip,

In a blaze of its slinky chapeau

~

Bathed my two Cavalier Spaniels

Got my front end as wet as they

But I can’t run around the yard

And shake off and loudly bray

~

Certainly I knew I had better not

What would the neighbors think?

An old lady romping with dogs

Surely needs to visit a shrink

~

But when those baths are done

Oh, to become a little girl again

I’d chase my tail and play dog

Bark and run after the mailmen

~

I’d dance the day away… maybe

But I’m afraid this tired ole body

Would give out fast and furious

Put me to bed with a hot toddy

~

My knees would grate and grit

My hips would start to grumble

The hard ground would beckon

And I’d surely take a tumble

~

But jes’ for the tiniest moment

I would be all tickled and pink

For I’d soon be soaring home

In just about forty odd winks!

 

I Remember, I Remember

 

I Remember, I Remember

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I remember, I remember,

The house where I was born,

The little window where the sun

Came peeping in at morn:

He never came a wink too soon,

Nor brought too long a day;

But now, I often wish the night

Had borne my breath away.

I remember, I remember,

The roses, red and white;

The violets and the lily-cups,

Those flowers made of light!

The lilacs where the robin built,

And where my brother set

The laburnum on his birthday,-

The tree is living yet!

I remember, I remember,

Where I was used to swing;

And thought the air must rush as fresh

To swallows on the wing;

My spirit flew in feathers then,

That is so heavy now,

And summer pools could hardly cool

The fever on my brow!

I remember, I remember,

The fir trees dark and high;

I used to think their slender tops

Were close against the sky:

It was a childish ignorance,

But now ‘tis little joy

To know I’m farther off from heaven

Than when I was a boy.

                   ~Thomas Hood

Homeward Wing the Birds

birds

 

© Jeanne E Webster-All Rights Reserved

Matthew 6:6   “But you, when you pray, enter into your closet, and when you have shut the door, pray to your Father which is in secret; and your Father which sees in secret shall reward you openly.”

If you hear me say, “I’ve got to go to my closet,” it is not what you think.  I’m not looking for wearing apparel. I must lift someone up to the Lord and need to retire to a quiet place, hence, my closet.

Did you play “Pretend” when you were a child?  Many of us did.  We would make believe we had an invisible friend to relate to, talk to; we’d just have fun.  This friend was as real as real could be, when you are a child.  One day you grow up and realize it was merely child’s play.

Now grown and no longer playing games, I hope you have a real friend, your personal Savior, Jesus Christ.  You can walk with Him and talk with Him, and He is as real as any person you’ve ever seen or imagined.  Jesus is there to share your needs, your joys, your burdens and those of others.  Look upon prayer as a serious privilege and duty, along with a deep relationship, a holy union.

What is really happening when you pray for the needs of another?  Do you understand this mystery?

You have taken their spirit’s need and drawn them into the presence of the Lord and formed a holy accord.  Quieting your mind and spirit, you enter into this prayer closet and tell it all to Jesus.  From your heart and soul, you bear those burdens to Him, and the Holy Spirit prays with you throughout this gathering.

Such as, “Lord, this is my friend, Mary, and she is in need of your help.  She is suffering from dizziness and severe headaches.   .   .   ”

You continue in spirit, hushed by the stillness and peace emanating from His presence.  It is a special moment when Spirit speaks with spirit.  In time you come away with the sense that the need is in God’s hand, and His peace reigns supreme in your heart and in the heart of the one in need.  The Lord has heard . . . and all is well.

Shalom

Jesus, Kneel Beside Me

~Allen Eastman Cross

Jesus, kneel beside me in the dawn of day;

Thine is prayer eternal—teach me how to pray!

Master, work beside me in the shining sun;

Gently guide Thy servant till the work be done.

Savior, watch beside me in the closing light;

Lo, the evening cometh—watch with me this night!

Birds are winging homeward, sun and shadow cease;

Savior, take my spirit to Thy perfect peace.  Amen

godfinger

Prelude to Winter in F Sharp

cropped-falla.jpg

© Jeanne E Webster – All Rights Reserved

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I

Saw

Signs

Today

Pumpkins

All a ’glowing

Orange leaves in hawthorn tree

Warbling breeze fluttering west to east

Sparrow chatter scattered here and there

Vegetable garden flattened to crew-ly-cut grass

A lone Blue jay complaint megaphoned to new arrivals

Blackbird covens congregating in darkening foggy shadows

Tweedly chirps of goldfinches changing into their drab winter wear

Pip-a-pip-a-pips as local cardinals brighten their royal crimson feathering

An ambling elderly man slowly dawdling towards some freshly fallen chestnuts

Dangling bird feeders awaiting the onslaught of scavenging loudmouthed grackles

Soybean dust-laden clouds billowing up like A-bombs over the southwestern desert

Over-yonder tree line sporting its argyle shaped oranges and yellows

Butterflies imbibing one last nip of nectar til spring

Rose bushes thrusting out one last bloom

Crepe myrtle

Blooms

Gone

Now

………………….////………………………………..//…………………………………../////……………………………/

 

         

 

Why did the Chickens Cross the Road?

chick

 

© Jeanne E Webster.  All rights reserved

It had been an amusing couple of weeks, to say the least.  It all started when our neighbor’s chickens crossed the road and came to breakfast at our birdfeeder.  All 10 of them—eight hens and two roosters—cleaned up the stray bits of bread crumbs and seed set out for the sparrows, juncos, titmouse, woodpeckers, and such.  No, the blackbirds were not allowed…no way!  It is a posted area.  I’d show you the sign but can’t seem to find it anywhere.

The chickens quickly had their way with the breadcrumbs and scurried back across the road, faithfully returning on a daily basis every morning for a month or so.  We eventually felt sorry for them and brought home a bag of chicken scratch.  My husband was in his glory as he would strew the feed out front, followed by the throng of hungry chickens.  Their owner lived at the residence but seemed to be behind on “lunch-money,” as the entire flock would search the neighborhood frantically for grub.  We don’t know what the problem really was; there just wasn’t much activity over there…except for the chickens.  Anyway, my husband waved while getting our mail one day and told Charlie we’d been feeding his chickens.  He hollered a quick “Thanks,” saying he’d gather some eggs for us in return for the chicken scratch. 

Busily fixing dinner and all the trimmings one day, I noticed an egg crate by the back door as I set out some trash.  There sat 18 large brown eggs, all wet and smudged with dirt but unbroken and rather handsome.  I brought them inside and showed them to my husband.  We were so delighted at our neighbor’s kept promise. 

Early the next morning the chicken man appeared in his yard, gassing up his 4-wheeler and readying to go off deer hunting.  Bursting with a ton of holiday spirit, I hastily tore off a leg and most of one breast from our roasted turkey, threw in an enormous slice of apple pie, wrapped them in foil and sent my husband out to give to the poor fellow for giving us all those good eggs.  The man was tickled pink and asked my husband if we liked venison, to which my husband replied, “Sure.”  The fellow said if he got a deer, he’d give us some.  I guess he didn’t have any luck, as we haven’t seen any deer meat at the back door.

 The chickens continue to run the roads of the neighborhood, always stopping off to chomp up whatever is left over from the little birdies.  Their number is down to nine now, as one of the brown hens didn’t make it across the road fast enough.  I don’t think it was Henny Penny, as she was the fastest in the bunch.  Yes, I had gotten to calling them names already.  Makes it sort of personal, I guess.  I’m sure those black old buzzards had a heaping big breakfast that morning, whoever it was that was too slow crossing the road.  Not much left now ‘cept for a few leg bones and a feather or two.  I’ve heard the age-old question, “Why did the chicken cross the road,” a hundred times but didn’t really know the answer.  Well, now I know…to fix breakfast for the buzzards! 

It’s funny…the neighborhood sparrows have come to hang out in our boxwood shrubs out front.  They hide in them til the chickens are gone then the lookout peeks its tiny head out of the green branches, does an about-face and gives the all clear.  The air just hums as they all come swarming out of their hiding places and fly over to the feeder again.  I was telling my husband, I hope they haven’t come to take up residence.    I love birds, but enough is enough. 

Well, I must get to checking the crockpot for the country pork stew I set out this morning.  It’s almost suppertime.  You all have a good day now…ya heer?!

 

“Springing” into Action

spring

 

 

© Jeanne E. Webster. All rights reserved

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I cried out to you last night, Lord,
When I awoke with a fright
You sang to me a dulcet chord
And my fears anon took flight.
.
My spirit aroused with adoration
Your greatness sustains me, Lord
To fight battles of every occasion
Your might is my spirit’s sword.
.
You’re the joy of lithesome birds
Playfully pecking at bugs and seed;
Gracefully into the air they herd
Oh, to follow them in secrecy.
.
The field is rife with weeds and clover
Plump honey bees fill their pockets
Sprinkling golden succor all over,
Showing off their shiny lockets.
.
Storms overnight ravaged the view:
Marinated soil flaunts bubbly pools
Broken tree limbs, bird’s nests askew
Aborted feathered life slumped like ghouls.
.
Tall corn spikes, tomatoes green lumps
Bashful strawberries hid from me
Brussel sprouts showing nary a bump
Fans of elephant-eared broccoli.
.
Morning glory vines garnished with hearts
Stretched their ropes into the skies
Clinging, twisting in fits and starts
Formed a glorious, colorful sunrise.
.
Orange daylilies stretch out like fingers
The hibiscus displays her dinner plate
Hummingbirds dine well as they linger
Bleeding hearts thrust tiny orbed bait.
.
Rabbits have produced such a nice crop
Tiny fur balls hopping here and there
Moles and voles dine heartily; please stop!
My lovely green lawn is suddenly bare.
.
The arborvitae finally gave up the ghost
All dried up, painting a brown frown
The black pines appear as if in a roast
Beetle parasite time brought them down.
.
Home-made suet I hung on the pine tree
“Mrrupp,” says the red-bellied woodpecker,
Gorging on peanuts, he’s a real cutie
Also the hairy and downy woodpeckers.
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Yellow finches sporting vivid coats
Feasting on thistle seed in the feeder
Those darn blackbirds are hoggish blokes
I’ll send them off with my old repeater.
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My two spaniels and I walk and admire
So many sights to explore around here
Crayfish chimneys dot the ditches of mire
What do they live on deep down in there?


Thank you for your provisions, Lord,
The natural ambiance offers such beauty
My rake and hoe await time to afford
I love the fruit of my labors and duty.
.
Dear One, You’ve truly blessed my path,
With one very pleasant enchanted day
“Top of the morning to you and your staff.”
Help me comfort others that come my way.