Tired

From a distance I could see

the sunflowers resting against 

white stucco. Stubborn plants, 

with tall, thick stems that hold 

their heads high until their life 

span ends in autumn.Their heads hold life for wintering birds, so while their long, woody stems grow tired, and their heads are bowed, 

their life energy lives on. If they could hope, it would be that they remain leaning against the garage until spring. Feeding the birds, and 

maybe a squirrel or two.

“….balancing the wish to be lost with the need to be found.

~ Billy Collins, Questions about Angels

On an Afternoon Walk ~ Out of the Heat

When I see squirrels, they are usually racing up a tree, scampering across the street, running up and down roof tops or jumping branch to branch. This little fellow was on the ground, walking slowly up the sidewalk in front of me, about four feet from me. It glanced back at me a couple of times, but wasn’t spooked by my presence. At all. I really was concerned because he was moving so slowly. When the little one got to the fence, it did scramble up all right, turned around and looked at me. Just sat and looked at me. I took my time readying my cell phone camera. It didn't move from his perch. Even while I walked past, it didn’t move.

Why am I telling you all this? Yesterday morning, I listened to a CBC Ideas episode about how rising world temperatures affect animal populations. Yesterday afternoon, the temperature was over 30 degrees Centigrade. - it was just after 3pm. We are expecting similar temperatures for the next three days. I do hope that the little squirrel had a water source close by.

“You don’t live on earth, you are passing through.”

~ Rumi

A Cat's Tale - A Feline Rant

A Feline Rant

I am healthy, handsome cat. 

Finally. Going outside. But in the little cozy thing my human carries me in. Instead of letting me out to chase the squirrel I always see ~ which I wouldn’t have done anyway because I just detest the snow, I was carted off to a place that made my nose twitch. Quite unceremoniously, the box I was in was turned upside down. Poked and prodded by a human I didn’t even have time to smell. The final indignity? He pulled up a piece of my skin ~ without even asking! ~ and poked me with something sharper than my claws. I was so unnerved and offended!

Oh, I’ve forgiven her ~ after all she does feed me.

“I’m a cat. We aren’t required to make sense.”

~ Seanan McGuire,  A Local Habitation

Squirrel Chatter

 

Nerds? Are they ever without a camera?! I wasn't even posing; she just about caught me! But I scampered ~ that is the word those two legged things say ~ down from a really good branch. I had spied a rather juicy morsel and I just had to get to it before any of my buddies did. I was really more interested in food than if I was presented on Facebook. 

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to be 

a squirrel any more. I’d rather be a bird!”

~ Erin Hunter, Moonrise

Just Because ~ 1

To follow 

the walking path 

past the lake

To rest 

on the dedicated bench

to look out on the lake

or

To take a walk

through leafy shade

past rabbits and squirrels

To take a detour

from here to there

just because I felt like it……

“But the beauty is in the walking — we are betrayed by destinations.”

~ Gwyn Thomas

Deep Calm

In forest deep, the quiet twitters and chirps,

A leaf falls silently, drifting through a sunbeam

A twig snaps under the quick step of a squirrel.

“The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness.”

~ John Muir

On An Afternoon Walk - Signs of Spring?

I have seen rabbits running and chasing,

heard honking geese flying high over

ever melting piles of sand laden snow.

March flowers, left in Victoria, are

replaced by barely budding trees 

and softening ice on Regina’s lake.

A tiny flick and a spot of bright red 

from above, caught my eye.

A fluffy bit of Regina spring ~ 

a new red squirrel, alert and bright of eye!

“Spring was moving in the air and in the earth below and around him.”

~ Kenneth Grahame

(British author of The Wind in the Willows)

On a Morning Walk - Squirrel Chatter

“I’m keeping my eye on those two. Scrambling up into this tree, I should be safe. I can move faster than any of the humans can, unless they’re the really short noisy ones. Even those ones can’t catch me. They’re better off chasing geese and ducks. Those two down there holding those shiny things up and laughing? I’m sure keeping my eyes on them! ”

 

“Well, it may be humorous to you, 

but it’s a very serious matter to the squirrels.”

~ Lisa Kleypas, American author

True Story - Almost

On the porch, a squirrel scampered, tracing a route traveled many times ~

from lawn to fence ~ from fence to rocking chair with a bouncing leap into the flower bed to find his cache of a peanut the gardener’s trowel has yet to uncover.

“The squirrel in my yard really knows his way around the neighborhood.”

~ Bob Saget

Forested Memories

Today’s writing exercise is ‘Setting a Scene’. I was given certain parameters of time of day, location, weather and atmosphere. From a set of virtual buttons, I was able to choose specifics for each of the parameters. From the menu at <www.writingexercises.co.uk> I chose: dawn, forest, eery and foggy

Forested Memories

It was dawn in the forest. Weak light from the sun shone an almost eery light through the pines surrounding the old cabin. Nancy liked to step out on the old porch when the fingers of fog that slipped in from the inlet threaded their way through the tall jack pines. This old log cabin had been in her family for a couple of generations. The early morning silence was broken with the cry of a single eagle returning to her nest from a hunt on the still waters of the inlet for prey to feed her nestlings. Nan had stoked the old wood stove inside just before shrugging her quilted plaid jacket on and stepping out on the porch, Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, drifting away to disappear into the  thinning grey fog. The eagle’s cry and the aroma of wood smoke were pleasant companions for Nan’s morning. She sat quietly in an old cane rocking chair, her corn cob pipe crowing cold. She could almost hear her parents calling to  each other. 

“Coffee and breakfast is ready, Estelle.” 

“Coming, John. Are the children up yet?’

Her mom would bring in fresh eggs from their chickens and beans from the garden. Her father had already been out to milk their cow and feed their goats. In that small cabin, there was little room for more than her parents, Nancy and her sister. Her father John had fashioned a sleeping loft for the children with a now rickety set of stairs up from the kitchen. In a curtained off corner at the back, John and Estelle had a quaint privacy. 

An eagle’s call pierced Nan’s nostalgia. Rustling in the pines signalled that squirrels would soon be chattering their own cheery ‘good morning’. Nan stood up and stretched, the old rocking chair squealing in relief. Coffee was ready and breakfast would soon be on the table.

“..forests are like churches, hallowed places. 

There’s a stillness about them, a sort of reverence.”

~ Sabrina Elkins, Stir Me Up

Stumped

I’m so incredibly late with this post! I started this story late this morning, but had a luncheon engagement with an old friend. Now home (it was a long and chatty lunch) I fixed a few things and added some others. The picture is one I painted in 2006 when I was experimenting with new activities. I’ve always liked this funny guy and thought it deserved a story. Do hope you enjoy it!

I painted this
watercolour in 2006

Stumped

“ What do you think? Should we take it down just to make a clean sweep of things?”

“Oh, let’s just leave it as stump. It will just shrivel and die. The boss won’t care. He wants the big bushy stuff. We’d just have to leave this one behind anyway.”

The very much shorter tree really didn’t look particularly upset and was really not that old. At least not according to the birds, squirrels and deer that were in the forest on the edge of the clear cut land. They had watched as he was brought down by a passing chainsaw wielded by the tired and careless loggers. The young tree hadn’t ducked fast enough ~ well he couldn’t. Trees ~ even young supple ones ~ can’t duck. They may bend in a pushy wind, but just can’t get out of the way of passing chainsaws.  So, the stalwart little tree was just a whole lot shorter. He wasn’t down for the count though. Yes, branches had been almost completely stripped of needles and it was the only fir tree left standing in the wide empty swath. ‘It doesn’t matter.’ said the little tree to his forest friends. ‘My roots are strong and my sap still flows. Most of my branches have been demolished, but when spring comes there will be new shoots and fresh needles. My branches will welcome tiny birds. For now, my bark will be home to a few bugs. The spaces at my feet are for daffodils and crocus.’  

Once the loggers had gathered all their equipment and roared away in their smelly machines, deer, birds and squirrels edged carefully out of the forest. Deer nibbled the last of the green needles. Squirrels scurried up and around what was left of the tree trunk. Juncos and sparrows crowned the bare branches. It really didn’t matter because they were still all together.

“All stories are true. But some of them never happened.”

~ James A. Owen,  The Search for the Red Dragon

Author's note: Edited April 15, 2024

A Squirrel Story

From Spring of 2018

Sitting in the sun, surveying the small plot, the squirrel sat back on his haunches. Plump, with thick gray-brown squirrel hair, his (or her) tiny paws nibbled on some tiny bit of leaf or twig. Watching from inside my living room, I thought  ~ ‘I should get my camera!’ As though getting ready for a good photo-shoot, the little guy (or girl) jumped down from the low stone wall and, in one hop, skip and scamper, jumped up on my little garden container. Settling his fluffy tail, back turned to the watchers, I dismissed the camera thought. As though reading my mind in frustration, that daring little squirrel turned around, sat up and stared at me almost daring me to move. As I turned away ~ the little rascal jumped off into the yard and took his leave with an arrogant flick of his bushy tail. No camera ~ no photo……of the squirrel.

“The squirrel in my yard really knows his way around the neighborhood.”

~ Bob Saget

A Squirrel-ly Poem

My patio garden - July, 2016

My fingers tap 

on the keys of my laptop

like the squirrel 

digging in my garden

wondering, perhaps, if anything worth eating

had been hidden beneath the damp soil waiting 

to be discovered and eaten.

But no, all had been harvested but each day the squirrel returns, curious 

about the soils potential

if squirrels know such big words.

When I dig in my garden I only find peanuts 

magically transported into the soil,

fine hairy roots beginning to sprout, but

I toss them out for the squirrel to pick up

and possibly cache in my little garden. 

“Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air.”

~ Carl Sandburg

A Squirrel Tale

A Squirrel Tale

How do you like my profile?  I had this photo taken last summer when the grass was green and the sun was warm. Let me tell you all about me. I am not just an ordinary squirrel. Well, really I am an ordinary brown squirrel. But it’s where I live that makes me so very extraordinary. I have my own condo! That doesn’t mean I live in a condo. What it means is I have my very own condo building with thirty-two patios. Did you hear me? Thirty-two patios. Don’t you think that’s impressive? Well let me tell you about some of them. The ground floor ones are the easiest. I was on one tonight……(shh - don’t tell anyone)……..that had tulip bulbs, and daffodil bulbs and the juiciest succulents. So good. Lovely and cold. At this time of year, there’s really not much variety but when I run out on one patio, I go to the next. I try and get my groceries when no one is watching, but every now and then there’s a loud banging on the windows, or someone yells at me. Some humans are so rude! They’re just not into sharing! 

The second story ones are tricky. It’s easy to race up the trees, but I have to leap from the skinniest of branches onto the patios. Success is all in my balance, and of course, skill. But that is still not the hardest. If I get caught on one of those patios, I usually have to hide behind a pot or under a chair. Leaping back onto those skinny branches is death defying! But I’m getting pretty good at it. The crows can be pretty scary when they dive bomb me when I’m in mid flight. In summer, the leaves hide me, but this time of year..........! There's not many groceries there anyway. So, for the most part I stay on the ground, making my rounds from one patio to the next.  I’m looking forward to the new gardens the humans will be planting. I’d like to think that they plant them just for me - and my friends, the deer - but somehow I doubt it.  Like I said, they’re not really into sharing.

“The smaller the creature, the bolder its spirit.”

~ Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem