Tag Archives: Daily Life

NaPoWriMo Day 13: Wish Wagon

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Wish Wagon

Hear the clanging pots, the squeaky wheels?
Over the rise comes the peddler’s cart––
horse with head down, pulling the load,
the jolly man just dangling the whip over her flanks.

Pitchers, fry pans, mops and brooms,
a doll for sis and kites for the boys
who run to greet this week’s happening,
hoping that Pa has spare bills in his wallet this time.

Now hear the “Whoa, Nell!” and see Zeke, the peddler,
swing his bent frame down from his high perch,
Ma drying her hands as she emerges from the kitchen door,
sis attached to her skirts, shy but drawn irresistibly from safety

to see the wonders that the peddler draws from his wagon:
penny candies by the jar and safety pins.
Needles, spoons and dime novels.
Cloth for Ma of calico and new boots for Pa.

Rag rugs made by Ma and traded for a bucket
and a wash pan his last trip here
that haven’t sold and so he won’t need more.
Jangly bracelets like the city women wear.

Her brief laugh scoffs at them.
The very idea. But one finger runs them round
before it draws away. And in her eyes
there is a wistfulness we will not see again

for thirty more years, until another wagon
crests the hill and drives away with her,
that look again frozen on her face
for eternity.

 

 

Our optional prompt for today was to write a poem that contains at least one kenning. Kennings were metaphorical phrases developed in Nordic sagas. At their simplest, they generally consist of two nouns joined together, which imaginatively describe or name a third thing. The phrase “whale road,” for example, could be used instead of “sea” or “ocean,” and “sky candle” could be used for “sun.” I used my kenning for the title.

A Special Start to My Day

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When I came into the kitchen to make our smoothies this morning, I noticed there was a candle burning next to the virgin of Guadalupe statue on the island divider between my kitchen and dining room.  I didn’t say anything about it, but later, Yolanda said, “I lit a candle for your mother today.”  Today is mother’s day in Mexico.  So sweet.  I went and got a pic of my mom to put next to it. This is one of the things I would miss so much if I ever left Mexico.  What would replace this special sweetness in the States?  My life is so enriched by it.

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A novel way to celebrate Earth Day!

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I couldn’t get this to download.  It is proof that they are actually raffling off an assault rifle to benefit the food bank in Sheridan, Wyoming.  Unbelievable but true..See this link to see for yourself.

Wasp Removal Tale

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Well, the story of the wasps continues.  After considering all angles, I decided that since the wasp nest was getting big enough to interfere with the barred gate outside the kitchen door, that it would have to come down eventually and better to do it now so they could get started on their next home.

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I wanted, however, a method of removal that would harm neither wasp nor Pasiano, who had volunteered to do the chore.  Through research, I learned that the best time to do it was early morning or evening.  Pasiano said he would be here today to do the job.  Of course, I forgot, so he surprised me in my nightgown, feeding the dogs right outside the kitchen door.  I went to get a robe and returned not only more clothed, but also with some vital coverup gear to protect him.  Bob’s old welder’s mask and a jacket with elastic at the wrists were musts.  We completed his ensemble with rubber gloves and one of my favorite scarves.

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He was a good sport and donned them all, but had a bit of a laughing fit and had to remove the helmet/mask until he could catch his breath.

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He showed me his solution to wasp removal–a hard plastic icecream container in a plastic bag.  He would put the container over the nest, scrape the nest off the wall and quickly close the plastic bag over it and carry the entire nest, wasps intact, down to the spare lot below me.

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The nest was quiet, with wasps clustered around on its surface.  None had yet stirred.  He climbed up on the ladder.  I watched from behind the glass door. The maneuver easily executed, he held the bag closed in one hand as he stripped off his battle gear. Not one fatality.  Not one sting.

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When he returned from the spare lot, he took the side of the ice cream container and scraped the residue of the nest off the wall.  Three tenacious black wasps remained–two still clinging to the residue from the nest, the other buzzing through the air a short distance away.

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Before I knew what he was about to do, Pasiano squashed the two remaining wasps with his fingers.  The other flew away.  So, our maneuver was blemished, as oftentimes happens in warfare.

Two minutes later, Pasiano was again pursuing his usual peaceful task of watering the plants.

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And I was left to put away the battle gear

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and to tell the tale.

 

 

The Deadline (A Tweeted Poem) April 5 Poetry Posting for NaPoWriMo

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dogwomanallalonecomputerwindowrubberboneeyelockpleadinginvitationonethrownbonebringsjubilationfurtherbeggingisfornaughtasecondlaterfunforgot

The Gardener April 4 Post

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The Gardener

There is a story hidden
In the majolica mug
with watermelon,
pear and grapes painted
on a yellow ground
that sits on the
terraza table.

Pasiano, the man who drank
echinacea tea with honey
from this cup, coughed
loudly behind the hand
that cradled the telephone,
sly smile betraying a love story
as clearly as the small child
who sometimes accompanies him to work.

Some senora’s, he tells me,
but the child has
his eyes and solid legs,
his shy manner,
lives with his mother
and her husband,
but sits on my steps
with a sugar cookie––
betraying no more secrets
on purpose
than his father does.