What Comes After Snow

Photo by Brian Wallace | Juneau Empire

And here we see what happens when you get lots of snow and then it gets warm and starts to rain. Deep puddles all over town. See the lovely snow? Color by car exhaust.

Water up to your floor boards and ugly snow. What a lovely city we seem to be today.

When I lived in Fairbanks, teaching Montessori,I wrote a song that I taught to my class. I posted it last March, but here it is again.

Springtime in Alaska
I love filthy, dirty snow.
I love to watch it melt and go.
I love icky, cruddy mud;
It's spring!

Snow melts in gray brown rivulets,
Exposing the butts of cigarettes,
Snow goes, here comes all the crud;
It's spring!

Mittens, hats, and scarves come off,
As our winter clothes we doff.
We've been wearing them a while;
It's spring!

Birds are hanging out in pairs,
It's time to go wake up the bears,
Courtship is suddenly in style;
It's spring!

Thoughts on an August Morning

The sun's behind the mountain now by nine o'clock at night;
When I climb the stairs to bed, I must turn on the light.
The fireweed has blossomed more than halfway up the bloom.
The higher up the color goes, the sooner summer's doom.
Oh, everywhere I drive or walk,
The color's inching up the stalk,
And soon will turn to cotton fluff -
Ah, summer's never long enough!

The Mighty Hoover*

When it wanders o'er the floor
It makes the most God awful roar.
There it sits, the mighty Hoover,
In the corner, that fearful mover.
Up stalks tiny Pippin cat,
His shoulders down on carpet mat,
Until he's close enough to spring,
Then out come claws and everything.
He lands just right, and knocks it flat
It crashes down and goes ker-splat!
And after running off in fear,
He once again approaches near.
He sits upon the fallen beast,
He's killed it dead. What a feast
He has provided for his clan.
Ah, heroic Pippin, my kitten man

* A poem written for Maya when the Hooligans were about four months old.

Back Sliding

Now the cats have grown up graces,
Seldom falling on their faces.
Now they have explored the house,
Played with toys and killed a mouse.
Long ago they'd draped the hall
With toilet paper, towels and all.
And so imagine Granny's wonder,
At finding aluminum foil down under!
Oh, those bruisers, what disgraces,
Still spreading things in obscure places!

Where My Ringlets Went

When I was only almost four,
Clothed in dress and pinafore,
While other kids were locked in cars,
I rode my mother's handlebars.
And as we went from here to there
The wind would macrame my hair.
When Mama yanked the tangles out,
I would cry and whine and shout.
And that is how I came to trade
Sissy ringlets for tomboy braid.

Spring Time In Alaska

I love filthy, dirty snow.
I love to watch it melt and go.
I love icky, cruddy mud;
It's spring!

Snow melts in gray brown rivulets,
Exposing the butts of cigarettes,
Snow goes, here comes all the crud;
It's spring!

Mittens, hats, and scarves come off,
As our winter clothes we doff.
We've been wearing them a while;
It's spring!

Birds are hanging out in pairs,
It's time to go wake up the bears,
Courtship is suddenly in style;
It's spring!

Friday Cat Blogging VII

And here are some poems I wrote when the Hooligans were younger.

Back Sliding

Now the cats have grown up graces,
Seldom falling on their faces.
Now they have explored the house,
Played with toys and killed a mouse.
Long ago they'd draped the hall
With toilet paper, towels and all.
And so imagine Granny's wonder,
At finding aluminum foil down under!
Oh, those bruisers, what disgraces,
Still spreading things in obscure places!

Brothers

Jump on your brother's back,
If he resists, attack!
Wrestle him to the ground,
Grab the toy that he found.
Smack his face, wash his ear,
Litter mate he won't fear.
And when in knots he's tied,
Sleep curled into his side.


Lewis & Clark

The world is for exploring, when you're a little cat,
You have to poke and pry and climb, we all know that.
Crawl into the oven, or on the refrigerator shelf,
Get locked up in a cupboard, make a monkey of yourself.
Get trapped atop the highest place
That you can get your silly face.
Jump and knock the knick knacks down.
Slide across the floor, you clown.
Yes, the world is for exploring, when you're a little cat,
Just be sure that you stay safe, and don't go splat.

Feline Brotherhood

Warm little bodies, silken soft fur.
Sweet little faces, deafening purr.
Snuggle and cuddle together all night,
Then wake up and begin to fight.

In A Nutshell follows.

Captive*

Soft as silk and black as sin,
What a cuddly mood he's in.
He curls his little kitten self
On Granny's ample bosom shelf.
He purrs and then he purrs some more,
Contentment oozing every pore.
She smiles at him, reduced to "ahhs"
As he wraps her heart around his paws.

*Another poem from the Hooligans' kittenhood.

Because It's There

As Merry gets a little older,
Merry gets a whole lot bolder.
And now he really wants to know
Just how high that he can go.
From stove to frig to cupboard top
Up and up, he'll never stop.
Suddenly, a worried frown —
He's ten feet up. Can he get down?
Piteous mews to call for Granny,
To save him crashing on his fanny.
Granny's only five foot two —
What does he think she can do?
Although the path is very steep
That silly kitten has to leap.
Carefully, now brace and look,
Retrace the path that up he took.
Granny coached him through the muddle,
And afterwards they had a cuddle

This was written when the Hooligans were about six months old.

Pillows

Cats and children oft have found
My breast to be soft Granny mound.
And there they love to lay their heads
In lieu of going up to beds.
I love to hold them close and kiss
Each kitten mister, grandchild miss,
Each niece and nephew, I love them all,
And cuddle fondly as they grow tall.
I'm glad that I'm not spare and flat—
What child or cat would fancy that?

To All Things There is a Season

From the first of the month, for ten days straight,
It snowed and snowed, both early and late.
The city plowed and sanded each street,
But the sidewalks were left to the ice and sleet.

Jonathon William Anthony Jones,
Just 23, with strong young bones,
Ignores his elders' sage advice
And runs and slides on the sidewalk ice.

Lilith Joycelyn Ward, that's Granny,
With due regard for her bones and her fanny,
With a stick in her hand and studs on her feet,
Walks carefully down the well plowed street.

Each one comes down that steep old hill,
Depending for safety on care or skill,
And Granny remembers long ago days,
When she also used Jonathon's ways.
The passage of time and effects of age,
Will bring Jonathon one day to Granny's stage.

Three Poems That Tickle My Fancy

Things That Fall From The Sky
In summer we get rain,
In winter we get snow.
This morning, there is snain
Dear God, don't send us roe.

Days That Rhyme
Some days I'm inspired; some days I'm not.
Some days I'm blocked; some days I'm hot.
I love the days when the words just flow
And images seem to shape and glow.
I feel more alive with a rhyme in mind,
I'm much more alert, I can be more kind.
When the rhymes and rhythm are easy to see,
Somehow, then, I feel more like me.

Prayer for a Winter Day
Mother Cabrini be really nice
And help me park on this patch of ice.
Make my wheels go steady and slow
And keep me out of that pile of snow

Big Black Birds

I wrote this a couple of years ago, before Juneau got the bear-proof garbage cans. Ravens often opened the old ones, digging out the trash that didn't interest them and eating the table scraps that did. And, the local Catholic church really did (and still may, for all I know) have a priest named Father Gorgeous.

That same year the crows on 7th street, a block from my place, were so territorial that they dive bombed pedestrians to drive them away from their nests. They also tried to get people to drop their grocery bags so that they could raid them. It was very annoying, and so a plaster owl was mounted to frighten the crows away. (Apparently they do scare woodpeckers.) Instead, the crows spent hours surrounding and scolding it.


Acting sensibly, I have no doubt,
Father Gorgeous set the garbage out.
But two cans have somehow lost their lids.
And Raven, like some vandal kids,
Is tossing all the trash around,
Devouring all the scraps he's found.

Crows, dive bombing from the trees,
Command 7th Street with ease.
Some neighbors have installed an owl,
A plaster one upon a dowel.
So now they roost above the walk,
And teach it, patiently, to talk.

Carousin'

Some nights those cats just have a ball
As they go ripping down the hall
And round the room and down the stair
To cupboard tops, just everywhere!




Then Pippin leaps, that silly soul,
Into the condo's top most hole.
And in and out he twines himself,
While Merry sits on the bottom shelf.





He's up! He's down! He's out! He's in!
And peeking back with silly grin!
Then fling themselves into a heap
Of pure exhaustion, and so to sleep.

This Body

has carried me for 64 years
through laughter and tears
given birth to two babies
attracted its full share of men
climbed hills and swum laps
dug gardens and weeded the lawn
painted rooms and cooked meals
danced -- alone, with a partner, in a group
run for sheer pleasure
skipped, hopped, jumped
done my bidding time and again
walked for hours, slept soundly

how odd that only now
when moving sometimes hurts
when sleep is often interrupted
when stamina is low --
only now do I
appreciate it.

Stalking The Tootsie Roll

It was four feet long, brown and hard
That Tootsie Roll in Charlie's yard.
& when the girls went out to play,
They'd plot that Tootsie Roll to slay.
They'd stalk and creep around the house,
They'd tiptoe, quiet as a mouse.

They planned and plotted lots of tricks,
That great summer they were six.
They hid and dodged from tree to tree
In hopes that none would ever see,
While they maneuvered out of sight
& sidled up to grab a bite.

But cars drove by and people walked
Every time that Roll they stalked.
Just one way — keep out of sight,
& do the deed in dark of night!
But six year olds are long asleep
When summer darkness up does creep.

With woman's wisdom, now I know
‘Twas only wood wrapped up for show.
But that summer took such delight
In planning how to steal a bite.
& spent my days beneath the sun,
Plotting larceny for fun.

More Kitten Poems

Here are two more of the poems I wrote for Maya when the Hooligans were little.

Bedroom Lamp

What a realization!
What a minor shock!
Our Merry is an athlete.
Our Merry is a jock.
He crouches low,
He springs up high,
He swats the cord,
That dangles from the sky.
His claws connect,
Well, what a scamp!
Our Merry has turned on
The hanging bedroom lamp.

Litter Mates

I'm sleeping quite soundly,
Tucked up warm and neat,
When two wicked kittens
Start wrestling my feet!

They tumble, they rumble,
They climb up my side,
Those silly young kittens
Must think they can hide!

Here he comes!
There he goes!
That zany black Pippin
Is stalking my toes!

How he laughs!
How he mocks!
That wicked gray Merry
Has stolen my socks!

& they run & they hide
Pounce, scamper -- karoom!
Up the stairs, down the hall
As they bounce about the room.

Hooligan Poems

When the Hooligans first came to live with me, three and a half years ago now, they were tiny little guys with funny ways. I wrote Maya these, among many, many, many poems about them. I thought we would get light hearted today, partly because we need a break from the serious every once in a while, and partly because it is raining and cloudy and drear outside. And there is nothing that makes me feel more cheerful than kittens.

Pippin
He's a bouncer, a pouncer,
A seventeen ouncer.
He creeps up on Granny,
Intending to trounce her.
She grabs him, she nabs him,
She kisses his feet.
He purrs with contentment,
His mission complete.

2 A.M.
Babies cry and wake you up
Because they're hungry; need to sup.
When kittens wake you up at night,
They crawl in bed with you and fight.

3 A.M. Romp
At 3 in the morning,
Without any warning,
Merry decided to romp.
So he put his cold nose
On Granny's bare toes,
And used his teeth to chomp!

Now, Granny awoke;
Didn't think it a joke.
And kicked his butt off the bed.
And trying her best
To get some more rest,
Cursing his silly cat head.

Borderland

I live on the border between wilderness and town,
Forest spreads above me, fenced yards going down.
Sweet rocket and conifers climbing up the hill,
My gardening neighbor bends plant life to his will.
Marmot, bear, and porcupine wander hillside free,
Raven, owl, and heron, each choosing her own tree.
And just across the street, behind the well trimmed hedges,
Birds in cages, dogs on leashes, cats on window ledges.
And I live on the border and choose which side to see.
It suits me to my very depth; both sides are part of me.