Sunday, May 1, 2011

Sunday at the Dump

[Port Albion, where Pup and I lived one glorious summer,
just before we moved to Port. It is fifteen minutes or so outside of Ucluelet, and this was sunset over the pond, every night. Sigh. A mountain on my left turned rose every evening. Pup was in dog heaven.]

Well, kids, it's been a busy Sunday. I am a bit at a loss, without my daily soul card. Owls are fluttering about in my head, but so far no poem.

Sister and I made a dump run, so I made a bit of a dint in offloading Stuff towards my impending move. Also mowed my lawn, which sent my blood pressure through the roof. I am now sporting a lovely reddish purple face, goes with the wild longish hair rather nicely:)

Good to know I wont have to mow lawns much longer. My yard is huge, and hilly.

It is still cool for April, usually is a lot warmer than this. But as I gather that other provinces in Canada are still dealing with snow, I guess open-door, t-shirt temperatures are nothing to complain about.

I am going to browse about online and see what everyone has been up to while I have been so gainfully employed:)

I hope a poem will happen soon. I miss the soul cards!!!!!

6 comments:

  1. ahh waiting for a poem to arise...I know this place of khanti.

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  2. Waiting for the poem!!!

    Thanks
    Leontien

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  3. Oh Sherry, there is a poem in that photo. A river running deep red with memory of another time and place. A mountain turning rose as its stones seep up that rich life long moisture.And owls flutter through thoughts bringing messages hard to decipher. It's there, I promise you.

    I had to go to Brenda's Sunday wordle to find mine. You will find yours as well,

    Elizabeth

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  4. I miss your soul card poems too, Sherry, but know you'll continue to grace us with wise words and compelling images as you always do. Get some rest after your busy day...:)

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  5. There IS a poem in that photo and, Elizabeth, you have written it! I will give it a try.......

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  6. A beautiful photo. I think sometimes the muse rests. And Sunday is a day of rest, you have buried your feet deep in the soil with Sunday chores. hummmmmm....do you think you might take the words written and work with them, perhaps they wish to be a poem...as you wish for the poem, the poem wishes for you?

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I so appreciate you taking the time to read and comment.
Thank you so much. I will be over to see you soon!