Saturday, September 19, 2015

Pigeon on sill, banded; Bob's 80; Wing-walking; From hidden earth - tomatoes; Metanoia

sits on sill at the feeder.
Is wearing a red band.
May 'belong' to somebody 
around here.


How to honor Bob Heeschen
on turning eighty (80)?

We have root beer stand
hot dog with onions and onion rings
in his name.

Bob discovers this week a bed of new raccoons 
in his wood pile up there in St Paul.
Sends picture.

Whudja git for your birthday, Bob?

One hopes that Bob's Greyhound
who peers in the woodpile's direction
has been deemed safe by the mother raccoon.


Wing walking

Omer Locklear, Lillian Boyer etc.

The 1920's

Wing-walking initiated by WW I pilot Omer Locklear
took off as a fad in this decade.

was big:

click here:

Hair-raising !

(Archival) Cat-Ass-Trophy

How many times must one say no
To a cat begging to go out
After hours

My reckoning of how many
Times I’ve leaned down to advise her

My disposition;  for heaven’s sake
Do you want to hear those mighty descending wings
From the nocturnal sky?  She glowers,

having no imagination, I guess
and continues her pitiful begging to go out
and take her chances during the darkened hours

An owl will, believe me, WILL swoop down
And pick you, you tasty morsel, as if
You were nothing heftier than one of our flowers

growing outside the door, in whose midst you slink and creep.
These owls are big with talons sinking deep,
They’ll carry you to a treetop;  disembowelers

these owls are;  your nemeses;
You don’t want to find yourself with great ease flying upward
By surprise, my pussy, to be sliced, diced, and devoured!

Like talking to a catter -wall;
At night a different creature;
She persists!  “ Mee-ow,  Mee-OW, MEE-OW!”  Hers

to learn the hard beak way, but not on this watch!
Her bones and parts shan't be reduced to pellets, trophies
dropped under the Tamarack’s peacable bowers!

No is NO, my furry friend, reckon thyself lucky;
Yea, and compose and confine thyself;
Not to be an owl’s, your howls and bowels are ours!

[David Dix 6-9-2002]


Yes, Tomatoes
from the community garden
at the First Congregational Church UCC
have grown where the little old house once stood.

That house got torn down.
Now the land under it produces food
for the neighbors - and us.

I especially like the soil that clings to these tomatoes.
You won't find that at the supermarket
or even the farmers market.

At those places all food is polished and perfect.
I want real life -
give me some real dirt to go
into the bushed I allegedly
have eaten at my age.

We won't go into the possibility
that the clinging dirt may be
Uncle Charlie or an Indian

 or other unclaimed but now claimed
  broken down
matter that was unseen and unused
when the garden was a basement.

And yes, I will wash most of the dirt off
under the faucet, because I am at heart
a chicken. (Segue)

Hulda Chicken helps John Helt, retired UCC minister,  with his garden

Hulda takes sun with John 

If you put that tomato picture up
as your screensaver, it has a 3 dimensional affect.



At the heart

 byJohn M. Buchanan
Editor, The Christian Century maazine
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Waukesha water piece