Haiku 36 and 38

More haiku from the archives.

The twine’s woven through,
Mud well smoothed. This bird is now
A well-known neighbor.

Pink geranium
Pressed to the window. Take it
To the garden, please.

18 thoughts on “Haiku 36 and 38

  1. My great grandma kept geraniums in her window. The climate wasn’t really warm enough to keep them outdoors. They did look as though they’d like to risk it though.

  2. We have them in pots and they stay out for all but the winter, I bring them in and try to get them to survive, and sometimes they do and sometimes not, but I do love geraniums. Always have.

  3. The winters are very mind here and I leave them out until Christmas. Last year was exceptionally mild and I forgot to bring them in at all. Result, the one night with frost killed almost all of them.

  4. We were responsible and we let them down. I have to stop myself picking up the bits of plants I find in the park, pulled up by idiots picnicking there at night. If I do, some official is bound to see me and think I did it. I do hate to see plant body parts lying around though.

  5. I used to have a neighbor who rescued plants and then gave them to all of us around here. I still have things she gave me growing in my garden. I feel the same way. Helping even a plant to live is replenishing to us humans.

  6. The head gardener down on the quais hates throwing plants away. A few years ago someone blundered and ordered yellow plants instead of orange ones. The gardeners had already planted the yellow ones when the orange ones finally arrived, so they had to pull them all up. She was distraught and handed out armfulls of them (I forget what variety it was) to anyone with a garden?

  7. I have a neighbor who has pulled discarded plants at our local cemetery – people put them on the graves for Mother’s Day, say, they stay there a while, and then the gardeners throw them out in this pile; and he has rescued so many. Mostly spring bulbs, like hyacinths and so on. As for your situations, i completely sympathize with the distraught lady. It seems just.. uncaring that these plants were perfectly good, growing fine, and rejected and dispossessed for that reason. I guess I see a metaphor for life in all of this. ??

  8. If you’re the wrong colour, you just destroy the symmetry…or something. All the jazz surrounding death is pretty horrible. I have heard of funeral directors taking the brass handles off coffins before they go in the ground…In one way, why not? What earthly use to a corpse is brass handles? What a waste of flowers too. And yet the ‘traditions’ are so mindless. I remember when we buried my father-in-law, the children put lots of ‘presents’ in the coffin with him and the people in the morgue threw them out as disrespectful. I think they mainly took exception to the packet of his favourite mints that our second (she was five at the time) tucked in his jacket pocket.

  9. Those morgue people needed a training session on burial customs starting with say, prehistoric people, ancient Egypt…and now your kids. I like the thoughfulness of the mints, myself.

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