Not always that easy to find the motivation…..
As the chill morning air
Banishes a few days of heat,
And the rain gently falls,
For our plants such a treat.
A second pot of coffee,
As if by magic;
Not to soak up this splendour
Would surely be tragic.
The camera shutter clicks,
Must capture the morning
As the mist cloaks the mountain,
Of more rain it’s a warning.
Searching for the energy
To make a start to our day,
Or should we just stay here?
Perhaps we just may!
Some guys have all the luck….
I was given my instructions as the wife drove away
To hang out some washing, it was a good drying day;
She assured me I’d cope, it was a simple enough task,
Anything more challenging then she just wouldn’t ask.
Now there’s something therapeutic about pegging out clothes,
Working out logically where each item goes;
Allowing enough space so that clothes can blow free,
And won’t get all tangled, bringing misery to me.
Finding a place on the line that looks just about right,
Making sure the pegs are fixed, good and tight;
The satisfaction when finished of a line neatly hung,
From life’s little pleasures such joy can be wrung.
Standing on the scales can be a real mood changer!
It’s a daily ritual
That so many perform.
To stand on the scales,
“Oh weight, please conform!”
We’ve set ourselves goals,
We just want to weigh less,
If we can’t lose those pounds
It just adds to the stress.
So it is with some trepidation
That I strip to the raw,
Ponder the scales,
Waiting there on the floor.
To weigh or not to weigh?
Now that is the question,
Should I leave it ‘til tomorrow,
Maybe use some discretion.
“What say you, scales,
Are you a friend or a foe?”
Until I weigh myself
I’ll just never know;
“Please digital display
Show the numbers I need,
I want to lose weight;
I need to recede”.
Stop! Think back to yesterday,
What did I eat?
Oh god, I had cheesecake,
But I needed a treat,
For the rest of the day
I think I was good,
Eating only the food
That I knew that I should.
That cheesecake now
Plays on my mind,
Better not weigh myself,
Yes, that would be kind,
If my weight’s gone up
A bitter pill to swallow,
Best leave this weighing thing
Until tomorrow!
Have the bees been playing tricks on me…?
I went to see my apple tree
And what did I find there?
Not my favourite Granny Smith,
But instead a prickly pear.
Now I’ve never heard of this before,
A most unusual situation.
Must be the result of a freak of nature,
An error in cross pollination.
So I rang the Cross Pollination Institute,
To ask them about my pear,
But they were out cross pollinating,
So I got no answers there.
It must be the bees who had got confused,
So I know where I must go,
A bee keeper lived at the end of the lane,
The last cottage in the row.
But the bee keeper couldn’t help me,
Yesterday he’d been badly stung,
And off he’d been whisked to hospital
After the ambulance had been rung.
It was certainly proving quite difficult
To find out about my prickly pear,
I know! I could try the library;
I should find the answer there.
Down the hill and across the bridge,
The library was by the church with a spire
But when I got there, oh what a shock,
The library building was engulfed in fire!
Fire engines parked along the street,
There were firemen and hoses galore;
I was feeling really frustrated now,
Under my breath, I nearly swore.
Then I remembered the interweb,
Google it, come on, I should have known!
But would you believe it, my router was down,
A connection appears to have blown.
So on went the kettle, I needed a cuppa,
To help me try and recuperate;
Finding out about my prickly pear
For the time being, would have to wait.
Then one last idea came into my head,
I could use mobile communication.
A photo taken and shared on line,
I could ask for some information.
So off I went to photograph it,
No way was I going to be beaten,
But when I arrived back at my apple tree,
By the birds, the pear had been eaten!
Under the jacaranda trees
In the soft dappled shade,
On a newly cut lawn,
With a lunch freshly made;
Sipping a cold drink,
Eyes gently closing,
The peace and the quiet,
Awesome and imposing.
Neon purple flowers
Occasionally falling
As the afternoon breeze
Now comes a-calling.
Butterflies float by,
Their painted wings flapping,
The dog missing their dance
As she lies quietly napping.
A drongo sits drinking
At the water fountain;
Watched over and guarded
By our beautiful mountain.
Our cottage might be small,
But it’s big on the giving,
It’s all we’ll ever need
For the life we’re now living.
I am so lucky that I can now smell the jasmine.
It’s the start of my day,
With my dog at my side,
As I walk through the garden
There’s a smile I can’t hide
As I’m wrapped in the smell,
As I pass through my gate,
Of the jasmine’s perfume,
That lies there in wait
To attract me and the bees,
So we can both take our pleasure,
The bees hard at work,
Me, hard at leisure.
The scent heavy in the air,
As night becomes day,
Before the morning breeze
Carries the fragrance away.
And as I pause by the gate,
Close by where the jasmine rest,
Indulging myself
In what nature does best,
I think of earlier times,
Of how my days used to begin,
And why I had no time then
To smell the jasmine.
And still no sign of the rain that we desperately need…..
Maybe tomorrow the rain will come,
Maybe tomorrow we’ll hear the drops drum
On the tin roofs, so tortured by heat
And so desperate to feel those rain drops beat.
Maybe tomorrow we will feel on our face
Those long cooling drops falling from space,
Soaking the ground as well as our clothes,
Maybe tomorrow, but who really knows.
Maybe tomorrow the farmers can smile,
As the rain comes after such a long while;
Stock they can’t feed, crops wilt and die.
They say rain tomorrow, but is it a lie?
Maybe tomorrow, the forecasters say,
But with our emotions they must never play,
For once they just need to get their facts straight,
As for the rain we all anxiously wait.
Maybe tomorrow we’ll wake up to feel
The cooler weather as the dark clouds steal
Across the blue sky, promising us that rain,
Maybe tomorrow, but are we hoping in vain?
The weather’s heavy today,
Think I’ll stay indoors;
Don’t get on with heavy weather
So I’ll put my day on pause.
Grey and oppressive,
Thick humid air,
Hopefully bringing rain,
But I don’t know from where.
A warm night in prospect
If we don’t get a breeze,
A stoep sitting night
Downing a few long iced teas
And hoping that tomorrow
Freshness returns once more,
Until then this heavy weather
Is such a pain to endure.
Sunsets are just so magical….
Clouds at sunset
In a settled sky,
No longer drifting,
Just happy to lie
And melt into the sunset
With subtle changes of hue;
A landscape of delights,
A mesmerising view.
There’s nothing worse than a good old fashioned cold!
You know how it is
When your head’s full of cold,
When you’re aching and miserable
And feeling quite old.
Your sinuses blocked,
Your nose a bright red,
Fighting the urge
To just go to bed;
Taking the tablets
That the wife said you should,
Never really knowing
If they do any good,
Hoping it’ll be gone
In the next day or two,
And hoping like mad
The wife doesn’t catch your cold too!
