Pears Like Poems

I'm not sure that I have ever seen fruit so abundant.  The trees down our street and in town have been laden with apples, pears and plums.  Really, it's hard not to be poetic about it.  Some friends, the ones with the greatest number of pear trees, invited us to a pear picking party last weekend.  While we were not the ones up in the trees shaking the branches, nor standing on the ground with a blanket to catch them, we were the beneficiaries of a bagful and are free to pluck now, when the need arises.  It is rather silly, but my heart is filled with delight about all this fruit.  What has been batches of apple strudel this past month is shifting to a pear strudel this morning.  The dough is chilling and my tummy is rumbling.

The pear
Much like a poem
Is difficult to get
Just right.
Too mushy
And my desire
Is to spit it out
To rid myself of the texture and feel.
Too firm
And again
It is hard to swallow
To choke down at all.
Either way
One bite
Is enough.
But then, like words

Well spoken

A pear

At the perfect ripeness

Is delightful

In its complexity and

Simplicity

Letting one’s taste buds

Feel the abundance

Of freshness just the

Right balance of sweet

Rich in texture

Delightful to touch.

Made

Even better through the

Picking right from the tree.

Bumps in the Night

Skeena, last night, was in quite a dither.
She barked and roamed all over the house
And would not quiet down.

Then I got up and looked out the window.
Nothing around I could see.
"Hush Skeena".
Then she was asleep and I was awake.

We didn't know til morning though
What went bump in the night.

When we go backpacking
A few weeks from now.
Far away from here we will go
To sleep outside in the night.

And we think that there is good reason
Not to roam, which anyway, we are not
Prone to do.
In the early hours of the day
At our cozy home.

And at 9:42 this morning our Skeena just tucks
Her tail when I suggest going out
And heads back
And curls up in her bed.

Note video is 4.5 Mb.

Make Do

 

When you don't have

What you need

In this case a leash

You learn that

What you need

Is to make do

So I did.

On a Lovely

On a very cold morning at the end of winter, near the beginning of spring
I peeked out our back door to look out at the new day.
And on the back steps was a little finch, no longer living I thought.
So, as often happens, my Tom came to the rescue and went to move it away.

And in the next few moments, came one of those times that I cherish,
A confirmation of what I already knew, that I chose my mate well.
For he bent down and tenderly spoke to the poor creature
Who, upon closer inspection showed small bits of movement and breath.

So Tom scooped it into a box to bring it inside and find warmth
And, we were hoping, new life.  Cozy and comfy it rested a while.
As the sun warmed the day, we brought the bird back outside
To see if it would drink or eat some seed.

And, as we opened the box, quite soon our new little friend flew away. 

On a lovely warm evening at the end of spring, near the beginning of summer
I peeked out our back door to look out at the end of the day.
And out in the garden, was my husband Tom, so close to the birds
By the feeder, that he kept very still.

And in the next few moments, came one of those times that I cherish,
A confirmation of what I already knew, that I chose my mate well.
For he poured some feed into his hand and spoke gently to the little creature
Who, soon was feeding right from his palm.

Quietly he called for me to come out and see.
And he poured some feed into my hand and the finch jumped right over.
And I could see all of the detail of this fine sweet bird, so trusting it was.
As it ate the seed we inspected it quite closely.

And were amazed at the detail, softness and beauty that God had created.