HEARD

LANDSCAPE WITH DOG. By Paul Mariani

Often up the back steps he came bearing gifts.
Frozen squirrels, sodden links of sausage, garter snakes and the odd sneaker.
The gnarled marks are still there,
witness that confined, he took his tension out on doors and tables.

And life went on and mornings, peace and war, good times and depressions.
Pale sticks turned to trees. Boys to larger boys then men.
Ice storms, wakes, elections came and went.
And always he was there. Like air, a good wife.

But there's much to think about and think about again.
The last time I saw Sparky, he was dying.
His legs trembled and he kept moping after me.

I remember trying to get my stubborn mower started.
With no time to stop and pet a dog.
And having no time left himself,
Sparky thanked me in the only way he could for eleven years of care.

Then got up and walked out of my life.
And lay down somewhere in the woods to die.
One of the best things life ever handed me,
While I went on looking for a one inch nut and bolt, in among my rusting odds and ends.


I hope Mr Mariani will forgive me if I misheard words and used the wrong format for his poem. I listened to Poetry Please on the BBC 'Listen Again' website and wrote this down, using the pause button.

Sweeping the floor, I stopped and leant on the broom to listen. All thoughts of housework disappeared, as I had to have the words in my possession. Sometimes a piece of poetry or prose can do that.

Hunt it down, write it down and hold it close.

(click on highlighted text for link)

WOOL GATHERING

There are five plants in pots that have been waiting for 5 weeks to be put into prepared ground in the garden.

There were only 4 days of sunshine for the whole three and half weeks of my Brother's holiday here.

Dog and I are on a healthy eating plan. That means cutting back on the fats and walking our little socks off.

Rain drops hanging on chicken wire remind me of glittering half moons.

I am three weeks late for a hair cut. I look like a dishevelled Cockatoo.

The vegetarian sausages I bought for supper were tasteless in the extreme. Home made vegetable curry tonight (if I may say so, a taste sensation).

It is a joy to watch Dog roll in wet clover.

I continue to have a niggling pain in my left shoulder from canoeing two weeks ago. Realise I am no longer the fit 17 year old I was when I first paddled up a river.

I became an Australian citizen on August 7th.

The vacuum cleaner has died (it is only 2 years old). Have tried to be 'in the moment', 'mediatative' when using the broom. This worked twice.

It is the last week of my holiday. It rains.

A friend is in need.

This morning (when the rain stopped), shafts of sunlight turned all the weed growth in the garden a glorious, luminous lime green.

There is mould growing on one corner of the laundry ceiling.

Dog is loitering for a walk.

Today, it is warmer outside than in. I open all the doors and windows to air the house and the perfume of wet garden drifts through every room. This is my favourite way of appreciating 'the wet'. (I have probably mentioned it before).

Miso broth with green vegetables and noodles for lunch.

Listen to a poem about a dog on the BBC. New to me, I try to find the words and cannot. Sittting down with pen and paper and using the pause button on the BBC website, I write down every word. It is not a sentimental poem, but powerful in it's simplicity.

A Magpie visits an old hanging basket outside the kitchen window. He pulls the coconut liner to shreds. Selecting and discarding pieces and then flying off to his nest. This happens eight times (that I see).

Walking with Dog I find bright yellow Donkey Orchids at the edge of a track.

From the top of a hill I see a teenage boy walking to the bus stop. Two minutes later, on reaching the road, I am surrounded by clouds of lingering aftershave. Dog raises his nose and sneezes.

LEAVING.....

.....on a jet plane.

Don't know when they'll be back again.

(Walking back from the cafe)

We have walked, canoed and strolled along beaches.

(Peaceful)

We have eaten, Dim sum, fish and chips, five star French cuisine, BBQs, cake and picniced in the rain.

(hhb dressed for the weather....fleece, rain poncho and 'sunnies'.)

We have talked, laughed and embraced constantly.

(A hug from my 6ft thirteen year old nephew)

Climbed a 50 metre tree (Two intrepid teenagers and a couple of adults). I stayed on the ground with the camera.

(Climbing The Diamond Tree. A 50m fire lookout point)

Taken hundreds of photographs.

Oh, and one evening, four teenagers and five adults played Star Wars Trivial Pursuit. This Aged Aunt knew none of the answers.

COLD

I am nudged awake and a muffled, 'It's your turn to feed the dog', filters through the bed covers. Twenty minutes later, the hound wanders in and a delicate paw is placed on my hand. I creep out of bed. The cold that hits me as I stumble into warm clothes and scuffed slippers, numbs my ears.

Once fed and watered Dog goes back to his bed, I do not. Getting older has resulted in headaches if I decide to have an extra hour of sleep. Cold air has slunk through the house. No kindling in the wood basket, so I turn on the electric heater. It struggles to warm the room as I lose all feeling in my toes. My eyelids are cold as I blink, the tip of my nose is icy and my sleep crumpled face begins to tingle.

There is a little warmth from the laptop on my knees. The only sounds are the tick of the heater, the gentle repetitive coo of wood pigeons in the garden and the click of laptop keys.

The hound is curled into a tight ball, nose under tip of tail, ears flat against skull. Cold.

The day beckons.

I know that a walk along the bush track is waiting for me. Soon a head will be lifted, ears will prick and one doggy eye brow will be raised. Time to find some walking boots and.....oh, here he comes.....tail waving and a persistent gaze.

Better find my boots then.