Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Sunken Garden







On Summer afternoons, from two to four,
The sunshine's probing fingers gently trace
A passage 'twixt the city roofs to pour
In fullness on a basement dwelling place.
Here, tended by the occupant within,
A little garden manages to grow.
Each corner for a pot or earth-filled tin
Is utilised;  and from these efforts flow
Such unexpected Sumer flowers that we
Who pass, heads bent and lost in thought, for this
Brief moment waken from our dreams to see
A world made brighter by such loveliness.
A little garden?  No! My heart denies
That such a paradise be judged by size.







Monday, September 8, 2014

A story shared . . .

CHLOE:     Hello, it's Chloe here . . .

MUM:         And it's also Chloe's Mum . . . we've agreed to tell this story together . . .

CHLOE:  . . . only because I'm not quite sure what happened in the middle . . .

MUM:         . . . and I remember it all too clearly!

CHLOE:      But I'm going to be the one to start.

I don't want to preen my whiskers, but everyone knows that I'm a very observant cat.  Nothing escapes my attention.  When we go into the garden for our walks I notice all the things my Mum doesn't . . . like outsize flies . . . and exciting rustlings in the bushes . . . and squirrels way up in the trees . . .

MUM:          Come on, Chloe . . . get to the point . . .

CHLOE:       This IS the point . . .  the other day, when we went for our usual morning walk, I jumped up on the old iron chair to get a good look at everything.  Speaking as the official garden cat, I believe it's my duty to keep a keen eye on all that's going on.
Well, peering down from the chair, I heard these very loud rustlings way below me in the thick ivy.
It was worth going down to ground level to investigate.

I stayed very quiet . . .  which is difficult for me . . .  but these noises kept moving about.  What's more, they were growing louder and louder. . . so what could any resourceful and intelligent cat be expected to do other than to pounce . . .?

But . . . well, after that I'm afraid that everything gets a bit of a blur . . .

MUM:        Don't worry, I remember it only too well!
You leaped into the ivy and I was a little perturbed when some bees came buzzing out.
I was afraid you'd been stung, so I pulled hard on your lead and dragged you away.

At first you seemed absolutely fine.  But then I looked closer . . .  something wasn't quite right, you were gazing into space in a rather stunned fashion.   Even more puzzling, your eyes were bulging in a very peculiar way.

It was all rather strange.  I'd never seen your eyes bulge like that before and I started to feel worried.

CHLOE:  You weren't the only one!

MUM:  I thought a bee might have stung your nose,  so I lifted you up in my arms to get a better look.
Do you remember what happened next?

CHLOE:   How could I forget!

MUM:      Your mouth burst open and what should leap out but . . .

CHLOE:     That mouse!

 MUM:     Exactly!  A very damp, bedraggled and startled mouse . . .  which tumbled to the ground before scampering off into the ivy . . . doubtless to tell its family of its narrow escape!
I don't know who was the more startled . . . you, me or the mouse!

CHLOE:       Well . . . I must admit that sniffing noses with the mouse wasn't quite what I'd expected.
I just wanted to be friendly, but he seemed to want to sniff everything, including my back teeth!  And it did feel odd . . . very odd . . . sort of full-up to overflowing . . . and very wriggly, and furry, and peculiar.
But, wasn't I clever to find him . . . shall we go out and find him again?

MUM:    Chloe, that's not a good idea!   Now that you've shared your exciting story, it's really time for a rest.
You dream about your adventure  . . . I'm sure the mouse could do with a rest, too!