Purple heather (haibun)

They stumbled on rocks along the shore.

“Come along now, Bonnie, you’re holding us all up.”

Six year old Bonnie was stopping to collect a stone here, a stone there along the way on their family venture along the shores of Ballybunion.

“Stop being such a slow poke! stupid!!!” shouted her teenage brother, Sean. He was already agitated he had to tag along on this “dumb trip” when his girlfriend was back home in Dublin. “But NO!!, Mum had to visit the old homestead” he mimicked his mother’s voice, “’tis where your great-great-great-grand-dad O’Donnell was born and left for Canada during the famine” As if Sean cared about that trip that lasted one hundred years and they all moved back and lived happily ever after in Dublin, he thought. Big effin deal!!

“I’m not stupid! I’m smart, Miss O’Connell said so, so there,” she shouted back sticking out her tongue for good measure.

“Come along, Bonnie, we’re all tired and hungry. And stop picking up all those stones,now, luv. When we get to Monroe’s up ahead, we can stop for the day and eat a nice plate of fish and chips. How does that sound?” Bonnie scrunched up her nose just thinking of the smell she remembered the last time she had fish at Uncle Gerald’s. “They’re not stones, Mum, they’re precious pebbles and each one has a story to tell. Miss Con…” Her mother yanked her by the hand with a grunt and a sigh and Bonnie knew she meant business. She stuffed her pocket with three more pebbles and ran along side her mum and brother.

They saw the cabin near the pier and Sean rushed to Monroe’s to order his meal…he’d had enough being stuck with females for the past forty-eight hours.

They started walking up from the shore, high grass and spots of heather blowing in the wind made a pretty picture for any artist. Suddenly, Bonnie stopped and noticed something in the heather. “Mummy, come quick!” Her mother came by her side and they both approached slowly in case there was an animal hidden in the bush. Mae O’Donnell’s eyes widened and she put her hand to her mouth in shock. “This can’t be! It looks like it but is just can’t be! Jesus, Mary, Joseph…it is!”

Bonnie tugged at her mother’s cardigan, “What, Mummy, what is it.” Tears poured down her mother’s cheeks as she lifted the porcelain doll from the purple heather. “It’s me Gram’s doll. I used to play with it in the attic when I came to visit when I was your age, luv.”

gusts of sea breeze

whispering ancient secrets

bed of heather

Photo prompt at MindLoveMiserysMenagerie

le show off (haibun)

On my way home last night I walked from work very slowly. Cutting across the bushes in back of our office was actually nice with the leaves all gone, it was just wide open snowy space. It was snowing again but it was very mild compared to the day before. So I took my time relishing the fact that I didn’t have to walk briskly to stay warm.

When I got on the street it was really nice to see the cars covered with snow, and quiet…it was late…so all I heard was the soft crunch crunch underfoot and the snow…you can hear it falling if you pay attention.

I thought the street lamps looked so pretty and took a few photos hoping to catch the falling snow…but alas, my smart phone is not a professional camera.

20150114_161645_Android-001 — This photo was taken Jan 14th with the blind closed;thought that was a pretty nice effect.

As I approached the lamp at the corner of an alley, I noticed a dark blob…not sure what kind of animal until I realized it was a cat sitting stoic; he looked like a statue and we stared at each other for a a good two minutes. I didn’t budge safe for my thumb on my smart phone. I was relieved I had turned off the clicking so that would have scared him off. Sneaky, huh? I did that last year so I could take shots of sunsets from the office window like the one above taken last week.

(troiku)

twilight walk
stops in snowy tracks
alley cat

stops in her tracks
staring down at each other
winner takes all

alley cat
show off in the night
photo shoot

Well, monsieur le chat did not stick around too long and ran by me and just took off. I realized he may have just been waiting to get around me all that time. When I didn’t budge, I suppose he thought, silly old woman has a few loose screws, I’m outta here! and off he went. Or perhaps he was late for a rendezvous…the little matou!! (matou also means a player, have called buys matou many a times as a teen)

silly old woman
few loose screws
scardey cat

félin d’ruelle
poursuit une trôlée
chattes en chaleur

le gros matou
rendez-vous de minuit
chez minette Latour

Haiku Horizons

Waste not (haibun)

Reading Karuna’s post on the use of plastic straws, at Living Learning and Letting Go made me think about how I behave in regards to recycling; if I am at home I will actually put a straw in the dishwasher even though I have tons in the pantry for company especially my grandson. And yet, old habit die hard I suppose since they are plastic and not paper, my grandmother never EVER wasted anything. So some habits from way back when have not died. Now that does not mean I am a model for recycling…oh no, I am not but I do try.

straws
adding to clutter
mindboggling

adding to clutter
plastic cups, stereo foam plates
fundraiser cocktail

mindboggling
non-profits host a show
Mother Nature weeps

We still have a long way to go. Last week we had a cocktail for a major corporate sponsor. The food was delicious but OMG, but the use of these fancy plastic miniature containers was mindboggling…at least we put them in the recycling bin…but still.

Inspired by Protecting Mother Nature from Straws

Haiku Horizons

High Tea at The Plaza (haibun)

The Palm Court — Photo Credits: Palm Court – The Plaza

I remember accompanying my friend on a business trip to New York City in 2001. I had not been to Manhattan since I was a child. I was amazed how it had changed and it was so clean. During the morning Jake was at his convention and we would meet later mid afternoon. One afternoon we went to The Plaza for high tea in the Palm Court. It was truly an experience, he said, I just had to see. The waiters were elegantly dressed and walked like they were actually floating slightly above the floor; there was a musician playing the violin in the middle of the court. It was quite impressive. It was like walking into a 1950’s movie…well, for me anyway.

We sat on the elegant chairs and waited to be served. We had arrived a bit late however and no one was in a mad rush to serve us. I enjoyed listening to the music and observing people who seemed accustomed to this kind of attention. I wonder if my wide eyes and open mouth threw them off…the waiters, I mean. Oh well, at $25 a person for a slice of cake and a cuppa we decided since it was almost five o’clock, we would go up to The Rose Club for happy hour and I had the best Manhattan I had ever had. The patrons were certainly more sociable. And that was my experience with High Tea at The Plaza.

noble patrons
sip tea from fine china,
violin serenades

Photo credits: The Rose Club – Plaza Hotel

illuminating teardrops (haibun)

The small tree outside my front window is no longer bare this lovely winter. It has gems dangling like crystals and diamonds. I had not noticed that before…the ice storm a few weeks ago had coated it completely with crystals but many had thawed, some had fallen but some have hung on for dear life…

life of a gem
survived darkness forever
life outside the mines

survived darkness
gives sparkle and life
northern winters

life outside darkness
hanging on those twiggy arms
crystal jewels

life is messy (haiga)

At Carpe Diem Sparkling Stars, our inspirational haiku by Shiki:

wakeful moments
just mistaken reveries
rolling into days

day after day
lost in a sea of fog
life is messy

old woman
chips away at what was home
lost in whiteout

lines in the sky (Tan Renga)

fused in contemplation
probe wit in broken lines

blue skies
hold the canvas
scrutiny

Photo credits: Dark Sky Diaries

CP Tan Renga Challenge

sans titre (haibun)

Walking home last night at the Métro Bonaventure Station, it was later than usual. It was passed eleven for I usually see several homeless persons lying on the marble sidings soaking up their last minutes of warm slumber. Between eleven and one in the morning, I am not sure if the police alert them of the time or if they have internal clocks but it was after 23:40 and I only noticed one man sitting by the door where late commuters rush off to catch their busses off the island of Montreal.

People kept walking by and the man was not holding out his cap nor mumbling anything as is usually the case when we go by some homeless persons…he looked so tired. I felt bad no one was stopping…true it was late and many were coming home from work…not all late evening travelers are revelers.

I sat down for a moment putting down my backpack, rummaging through the mess looking for my change purse, searching for change to give to this man. I rarely carry money but change, mind you, here in Canada means $1 and $2 coins along with the quarters, dimes and nickles…we got rid of our pennies. Good I found enough to get a coffee and soup at Tims perhaps {I must pick up some coupons from Tim Horton to have handy}.

The man looked at me and I could not see he had a smile {without my glasses} but I did take a few photos} that I had noticed only after seeing the photo. As I walked passed him, stopped to give him my coins, he thanked me so kindly with such a nice smile…the same smile I saw later on that photo.

Such a worry for the homeless people this time of year…last night it was dipping to below 20C and it snowed all night…a nightmare for anyone stuck outside in this bitter cold for more than an hour.

Farmers’ market (haibun)

Going to the farmers’ market as a young child was an adventure. My grandmother would take me and I enjoyed the social aspect of it. Farmers chatting with GrandMaman, so many knew her for she was a midwife and probably assisted many births in those farm houses. It was also a place appropriate to bargain at the local market and sometimes just listening to some of the bantering made it fun to be here with her. It’s sort of cool tagging along someone so well known, respected and loved.

Although we lived in town she still knew her fresh vegetables seeing as she had several gardens, flora and vegetables and she knew how to choose fresh meat. She would even test fish by taking a tiny piece raw and taste it to see if it was really fresh; I guess it is no surprise that I learned to eat a tiny portion of fresh extra-lean grown steak raw sprinkled with salt while she was making hamburgers. You have to remember that in those days we went to the butcher and saw him grind the fresh steak.

Tag: poetry