Sunshine fingers reaching out Uniting all in touch Evening comes, starlight bright Vibrant colours of cosmic order Inviting you to stand and say Nice to have known you, Starbright Carrying the torch of love Engaging all who read your words Never condescending, always light, your Touch sunshine bright…
Ground control to Major Tom Hold on, strap in tight Operation Nightfall is a go Sending extra troops To new target Bombs loaded, you’re good to go Undercarriage all secure Signal left will let you know Take off when ready Enter enemy space Race your way back home Sentinels line the airstrip, awaiting your arrival…
This has been a year with so much loss, I can’t even count the friends, almost friends, idols, artists — people who mattered to me somehow — who have gone. Just as well for lockdown because I had simply stopped going to funerals. There were so many and that was before the pandemic.
And tonight I am sad because I am losing a friend and there is nothing I can do to keep her with us.
A finch meets a sparrow between the feeders.
I have done very little grieving because I have been afraid to let myself grieve and I’ll be better after a while, but there is so much grief. Knowing that so many of us are similarly grieving is not really as much comfort as one wishes. I remember when my mother passed and I was in Israel. I didn’t have the money for a plane ticket…
It is the final Saturday in February and the close of the longest month on the calendar. Yes, I know there are only twenty-eight days, but they pull double duty to outlast and outperform their competitors. Endless gray, gloomy, monotonous hours make it almost impossible to discern day from night and create a gaping hole of misery. This year forty-five inches of snow followed by ice and bitterly cold temperatures convinced me hell really had frozen over. I have a secret weapon. It helps me stand up, wake up, and face the next twenty-four hours. What would I do without my morning cup of Joe?
My black gold gives me courage, puts vim in my steps, stiffens my backbone, and lets me know I will persevere. My stalwart friend guided me to this point where we can applaud February’s backside and welcome March with her promise of spring in a…
With every passing second It is getting clear The purpose of my life and The reason why I’m here Nothing is more precious Than this time with you You’re the soil I stand on You’re the sky so blue I was born to love you
Just remember baby To never let me go You’re the air I’m breathing You’re the God I know Fill my lungs with life now Fill my heart anew Charge my barren veins with A spark that I never knew I was born to love you
This world may be empty Meaningless and cold Yet my life’s got a purpose A meaning I do hold No force can ever stop me From feeling as I do I was born for a purpose And that goal is you I was born to love you
Notes from a Small Dog, Four Legs on Two. ISBN 9781910478271
This is my fourth Ani book by Sue Vincent, and definitely my favourite. A combination of verse and prose, it captures a dog’s eye view of food, cheese, balls, snow, ownership and emotions, with the occasional entry from Sue herself.
This has 142 pages, 146 including the end credits and details of other publications.
The photographs match the chapters, especially Indignant Small Dog where the chosen picture is priceless above the first sentence ‘She hid the ball!’
I laughed out loud at that and kept that smile on my face until turning the light off.
We frolic with Ani in the snow, cheekily pilfer morsels from plates, plead with big brown eyes, and generally get our own way, even when we’ve been in the dog house. We share long buried bones, commiserate when she’s forced to have a bath…
The primary branches on this tree were made by thread-grafting, and the tree itself was made from an air-layer of nursery stock I bought in 2008. So this tree is pretty artificially developed. However, to keep growth dense and movement present with trees, sometimes this is the only way to go. So long as the result is convincing, the means don’t matter.
The trouble with this tree is that the left trunk has a long span with no branches on the right side. In time, the right trunk sill fill in the lower part of the space, but the left trunk does need a branch somewhere along this span:
Ideally it will be between two left branches, creating an alternating branch pattern…somewhere around the blue circle, on the outside of a bend:
I started the week in good spirits despite having a roaring toothache.
There is so much I want to do, book and writing-wise. The bonsai are beginning to wake up, and the garden is still a jungle. Several jobs have been neglected around the house, but I am learning to move from room to room with my eyes averted!
Seriously though, I am beginning to wonder about my job description.
Head cook and bottle washer
Housekeeper and accounts clerk
Part-time carer and medication assistant
Full time writer/blogger/editor
Bonsai enthusiast and part-time gardener
DIY/decorator should be on this list, but I just can’t make myself do it. Not sure how I can manage to fit everything in, but I must try. Even though I am aware of that old maxim, Jack of all Trades, master of none…
The dentist assured me that there was no infection last week and that the aching hole in my gum would stop hurting very soon. I didn’t believe him then, and I wasn’t buying it now, for the pain is worse, accompanied by some severe throbbing. Made an appointment to see him on Thursday.
While I waited, I tried to find any trace of the creative spark in my head and failed, so I resigned to doing routine work on the computer. This wasn’t easy either, what with the pain in my mouth and the granddaddy of all headaches, but it was something.
After a speedy Xray, the dentist had to admit I had an infection. My swollen gum must have cinched it, and I toddled off home with some strong antibiotics.
A walk around the garden provided me with some lovely images to close with…
See you soon, hopefully with news of some progress!