Trapped… #Poetry

 

 

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Image by Pixabay.com

 

 

Trapped

Trapped under the ice

No one can hear you scream.

The sound you made, held

as if between two sheets of glass.

Melt waters carry it far away

To be heard as a distant echo

From a lost time.

A repeating pattern of cosmic design

Nothing is lost, nothing goes to waste

All held within the ticking arms of a clock.

We return, newly made to walk in the

same footsteps we made long ago.

Nothing escapes Earth’s gravity

It merely changes…

Anita Signature

Strike…

 

 

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Courtesy of Pinterest.com

 

 

Strike

Magic comes in unexpected moments

Patiently waiting to blow your mind

With wonder, the beauty of lightning

Striking beside a rainbow

Two great luminaries appearing together

Was it planned by Nature, or magic?

waiting behind the scenes, giving pleasure

to those lucky enough to see it

The timing of such an event must be astronomical

I would place such a happening alongside

the seven wonders of the world

An unexpected gift from the Universe…

Anita Signature

The Other Love… continued

 

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The  Oak Tree

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The weather had turned hot, not exactly digging weather and the oak was growing at the front of the house in full view of the sun.

I tried to judge when would be a good time to start, but it wasn’t looking good. The hot sun was constant, not losing heat until it began to set at around 7pm. I prayed for more cloud or even rain, as it wouldn’t be the first time I had been gardening in the pouring rain. In an emergency, I once put up 20 feet of fencing like that. If I need to do something, a little water will not stop me.

It doesn’t get dark until nearly 10pm, I would have three hours to get the job done.

 

When the time came, I had a few words with my target before I started digging. Not asking for a miracle or any cooperation, you understand, for I knew what I was in for. More to explain what I wanted to do. After all, this was an oak, once sacred and maybe still could be. It had been trying to grow in the wrong place for nearly 12 years, so although it was only two feet high, the roots would be extensive and most of them would be thick tap roots.

 

I started digging the trench around the tree again, meeting several large tap roots in the process. I severed these and kept digging. These were primarily for stability and wouldn’t be needed for what I had in mind.

The trench could only extend halfway around the tree for it was growing so close to our ancient wall. At this point, the job was beginning to look impossible. The trench was nearly 2 feet deep, but the tree wasn’t moving.

 

Time to start undercutting, so I produced my kneeling pad and set to work.

Several enormous tap roots later, there was still no movement and there had to be a reason. One last tap root was holding the tree in place, but I hadn’t spotted (or felt it) yet.

Despite the sun going down, it didn’t seem any cooler. I was dripping with sweat, very muddy and bleeding from several nasty gouges on both arms.

This oak wasn’t playing nice and I was exhausted, but not beaten or about to give up.

I cleared more soil to find the offending root.

 

My heart almost stopped when I found it. Covered in mud, it had been almost invisible and the size of it was incredible. It was the size of my arm!

Time to attack it with my branch saw.

 

I battled for another hour, determined to succeed in walking away with the sacred oak in my arms.

When it finally came free, I almost crawled around to my back yard, where I dumped it unceremoniously into a large bucket of water…

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Tune in later for what happened next…

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Editing the Hedge…

 

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I took the afternoon off the other day to cut the rather large and long hedge in our back garden. All the time I was doing it, my mind was editing the last chapter I had written that morning. My mind is like that, give it something to do that doesn’t involve a lot of thinking, and it will entertain itself.

Just down the road from me, someone has trimmed their hedge to look like a dragon. Must have been very difficult, and quite something to see.

As I was clearing up, piling all the cut leaves into my garden waste collection sack, I was struck yet again by the similarity to life that editing a book and trimming a hedge really is. You start with an untidy mess, overgrown and out of control. You look at it, wondering where to begin, doubtful of your ability/capability to do the job justice.

Plucking up the courage to begin, you chip away, trimming here, shortening there, trying to make it perfect. Standing back from it, you notice all the small things that need your attention, and you go back to it, determined to get it right.

At least that’s your intention.

 

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Not my best work!

 

 

Unfortunately, either the hedge in my garden is too long, or I am not as fit as once was, but the finished result was not perfect. Mostly down to the fact that the cordless hedge clipper ran out of juice long before I had finished. Yes, I know you can get electric ones, but having cut through three cables and narrowly missing frying my good self, I am giving them a wide berth!

Thankfully, editing a manuscript is a lot easier than trying to trim a seven foot high, thirty foot long monster of a hedge.

Thank God for that at least.

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#Jaye’s Journal… week 28

Jaye's Journal x12

 

Beaten by a Tree!

 

I failed to rescue the oak sapling.

 

 

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The oak sapling!

 

I tried my best but as I hacked away at the weeds surrounding it, it became apparent that it would not be an easy task.

We had always called it a sapling for it was only a foot high, completely forgetting how many times it had been cut back over the years.

I discovered that the base of this tree was very large and mostly rotten. It was also growing so close to the wall and I suspected the roots would be entangled in the brickwork.

But was I disheartened?

Not even a little bit. This is where being stubborn can pay dividends, but whether this would be a good day for stubbornness remained to be seen.

I dug a trench around the tree, severing several rather large tap roots in the process.  These would not be needed if I succeeded in creating a bonsai out of it. Tap roots are mainly for stability, and it’s the fine fibrous roots you need to protect.

When I tried to lever the root ball out of the hole with my trusty garden fork, it wouldn’t budge. Doubt began to sink in, nudging my determination to one side, so I tried to tug at it with all my strength, just to see some kind of movement. Anything to justify digging deeper.

This is when my determination failed, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to save this tree. It had been there too long and probably had tap roots in Australia.

I felt very sad at this point, for the tree would have to removed somehow, probably in pieces before it brought the wall down. But if my detemination pays another visit, I may have another go!

The wall in question was probably as old as our house, built in 1887 so saving it was more important than anything I wanted to do with the oak. (at least, that’s what common sense was telling me!)

******

Todays disapointment reminded me of another one of my failures, one even sadder that happened several years ago. I tried to rescue a beautiful red acer from a demolition site. I couldn’t bear the thought of it being mown down by a bulldozer, so asked the builder in charge if he minded my removing it.  I knew it would be difficult, for whoever planted it had built a rockery around it, creating quite a lovely Chinese garden.

But before I could get started, the helpful builder took it upon himself to rip it up and present it to me, so proud of his handy work.

It hung there in his hand, already limp, the roots bare and damaged and I knew he had probably just killed it.

I did my best for that tree, carefully planted it in the best soil. I kept it in the shade and misted the leaves regularly to help it recover. Gradually, despite my efforts, I watched it die and all my prayers and efforts came to nothing.

I think a little piece of me died that day too…

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