Friday, April 24, 2009

brighter whites

It looks like a small leaf is trapped in the door of the washing machine.  It’s trying to get out, not in.  I can tell by the way it’s pointing, at me, asking to be rescued. 

It’s clear this time she tried to wash a tree.  A little one admittedly, but I’m sure she had use her foot to persuade it in.  She didn’t like the shade of it’s leaves.  It didn’t fit in with the others in her garden.  It wore a demanding shade of green and she doesn’t like to share attention.  She put it on a hot wash with a red sock, hoping to induce autumn.  It didn’t work.  The leaves stayed green until the spin cycle when they promptly dropped off.  She pegged it out to dry while all the other trees giggled behind their leaves at the little winter tree shivering and bare and upended.

Next time she plans to wash a rain cloud.  She swears that with a little effort she’ll get those grey stains out.

Wednesday, April 01, 2009

an accident waiting to happen

with photographic thanks to dandelion

the ongoing observations of a tulip watcher -

*  while the crocus work their magic the tulips stay silent.  waiting.  bitter green knots of anticipation.  while the crocus are white and bride-like and virginal, the tulips want it known that they will be red.  they are planning dark deeds, riots and damage and bloodshed in the flowerbeds

*  these tight lipped tulips begin to bleed a little

*  love is discovering I’ve planted her favourite flower, without knowing her favourite flower

*  one day one lazy tulip collapsed over the side of the pot, by the next it found it’s feet again

*  in the bright spring sun the blooms open too far, they embarrass with their similarity to wounds, gaping and raw with a yellow infected centre.  they only show decency when the sun goes in and they draw themselves primly closed