*Actinidia Deliciosa! He departed in despair.
(*kiwifruit)
Daybreak
The gentle peace of the country I’ve found
Is shattered each morning by the sound
Of cicadas which rasp the entire day long
Competing in volume to shout out their song
The dawn chorus starts with a symphony
Of voices which chirp and squawk at me
Pigeons alight on the roof with a crash
Auditioning for the next Riverdance bash
Cats are courting in eldricht fashion
Arousing each other to heights of passion
Beside the fishpond a choir of frogs
Croak out their loud and riveting songs
Flies are buzzing against the glass
As a rumbling tractor grumbles past
Mosquitoes maneuver and whine high and shrill
Before diving in on my bed for the kill
I long for the peace of a city street
Or a thumping stereo’s soothing beat
Instead I’m stuck with the rattling blast
Of a top dressing pilot zooming past
Roosters call out their daily hymn
As farm dogs bark with a deafening din
And chainsaws squeal like a violin
Another day in the country begins
Easter Weekend
Roger from the city came
He rubbed his hands with glee
He discovered avocados
Ripe and fallen from the tree
I’ll pick these up and take them home
My friends will envy me
Roger from the city came
It was his dearest wish
To go out boating on the sea
And try to catch a fish
When lightly crumbed and gently fried
It makes a tasty dish
Roger from the city came
The country life to see
Decided he would try to find
A lifestyle property
Now I’m here I know that this
Is where I want to be
Entertaining
Last Sunday I decided
To invite some friends to tea
I had been to all their parties
It was time they came to me
I vacuumed all the carpets
Hung the washing out to dry
And picked up all the empty cups
That seem to multiply
I dusted all the furniture
And when I’d washed the floor
I went to pick some roses
To display beside the door
Pauli with its scented flowers
Climbed everything in sight
Blooms of creamy white
Xanthina Canary Bird
Its yellow fragrance spread
While Duchess D’Angouleme
Blushed within her garden bed
Tuscany thrust velvet petals
Purple to the sky
While, from behind, the large red hips
Of Hansa caught my eye
Felicite Perpetue
Had pink buds opening white
And Laure Davoust in lilac pink
Filled me with delight
Dark and crimson Francis Dubreuil’s scent
Made me quite dizzy
With such a wealth of roses
I was in a tizzy
Which one should I choose?
The answer struck quite suddenly
We took our chairs and sat
Among the roses for our tea
Fertilizer
My grandmother used to call it, rather delicately, manure
She said it was good for the garden
The rest of us weren’t so sure
It was hard to imagine the sweet perfume
Of a blossoming Mermaid rose
When the unwanted products of cattle and horses
Would daily assault the nose
Grandma believed that all roses need feeding
With fish heads and dried blood and bone
And compost fermented in mountainous piles
She wandered the garden alone
Her cries of delight on the glorious sight of a mauve-pink Marie Louise
Fell on deaf ears as we counted the years
Before we could grow up and leave
As adults we married, with homes of our own
We laid concrete and pavers and stones
But something was missing, we needed the glory
Of roses to make a house home
We ordered a truckload of chicken manure
Our offspring complained at the smell
But we found with delight that our Grandma was right
It does make the roses grow well
From the Passenger Seat
I do not know where North is
I can’t tell right from left
Of skills in navigation
I am totally bereft
Maps with highways marked in red
I study with a frown
As far as I’m concerned they print
The damned things upside down
When driving with my husband
He cries out in dismay
As my careful clear directions
Lead us totally astray
Through towns and countryside we drive
And roads and rivers cross
Petrol drops and tempers rise
We crossed a mountain range
That was supposed to be a plain
We crossed a one way bridge
Then turned to cross it back again
That cunning little shortcut
That we took a short while back
Has landed us upon
A farmer’s potholed tanker track
And at that scenic area
From which we last departed
I gave the wrong directions
Now we’re right back where we started
I cannot find a petrol station
Or a cheap café
But tell me of a garden
And I’ll clearly see the way
And if there is a plant sale
Or a hidden nursery
With a yard stuffed full of bargains
These I find unerringly
So if upon a journey
You are planning to embark
And if you want to get there
In the daylight not the dark
Unless you’re buying trees or flowers here’s some advice for free
Please navigate yourself and do not give the map to me!
Gnomeless
Each home should own at least one gnome
In the garden, my neighbour once said.
I have a pair
By the pond over there
Their names are Jasmine and Fred.
There’s a gnome with a walking stick down by the hedge
In a dear little jacket of blue
Another wee fellow
Is pushing a barrow
Wouldn’t you like a gnome too?
There’s plenty of room in your pond for a gnome
My friendly neighbour suggested
Set right in the middle
Stark naked, to piddle
I don’t want a gnome I protested
What about putting a gnome by the rose bed
Or under that tree by the wall?
The more I resisted
The more she persisted
But gnomes are not my thing at all
My neighbour has gnomes littered throughout her garden
Standing alone or in rows
They have wide manic grins
With beards on their chins
And they wear shiny, colourful clothes
Their wrinkled old faces leer out through the leaves
Violets sprawl round by their feet
Last week I saw one
Who exposed his small bum
Which caused me to quickly retreat
Much to my horror on Saturday morning
My neighbour came over to say
I have brought you a gnome
One of your very own.
So now I am moving away
Gwyther’s Garden
Going down the winding path
Underneath the trees
Plants grow lush in dappled shade
Where Gwyther with her skill has made
A garden sure to please
Going down the winding path
Down the hillside steep
Are plants too numerous to name
The sweeping countryside is framed
As through the trees we peep
Going down the winding path
Pause and rest awhile
Where leaves in autumn colours fall
And fantails from the bushes call
Rewarded with a smile
Going down the winding path
I wish I’d come here when
Each shrub and plant was massed with bloom
To fill the air with sweet perfume
I’ll have to come again
Herbal Days
Jim was most unhappy as he wandered through his vines
With money owed to pruners and for bees
No cash for beer or cigarettes or moving with the times
To replant in the new varieties
A cousin came to visit, filled with all the joys of spring
He’d last seen her some seven years ago
She carried an enormous bag containing many things
And asked to see the plants that he could grow
She told him she was qualified in natural therapy
And used a lot of plant roots, leaves and seeds
Jim took her round his orchard where she fell onto her knees
And gave a cry of joy at all the weeds
She told Jim how she made infusions, tinctures, pills and creams
To cure her sick and varied clientele
And pointed out that plants were beneficial in extreme
When simply picked and eaten raw as well
Jim felt the orchard showed off to advantage for a change
His weeds were natural herbs that he’d let grow
And her advice, he thought, was good, although a little strange
Jim thanked her as he waved and watched her go
Passing by the shelter line Jim saw plants growing wild
What they were for he didn’t have a clue
He picked some leaves and rolled them up into a large cigar
And smoked it just to see what it would do
Today Jim’s orchard is neglected, such a sad disgrace
The neighbours are concerned about the pests
But Jim’s a happy chappy as he staggers round the place
With his natural, home-grown, herbal cigarettes
Hoe Down
Before I took up gardening
My hands were always clean
Now they are a most peculiar shade of grubby green
My nails are chipped and broken
A sorry sight to see
My skin is cracked and not unlike the dried bark on a tree
Before I took up