Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Garden Rhymes & Nursery Whines

Roberta, Roberta,
From chilly Alberta,
How does your garden grow?

With brush and thrush,
And quiet hush,
And fresh-pressed footprints
In the snow.













(for a bit of extra amusement, try reading the second verse out loud as fast as you can -- not easy is it?)
___

As I told you last post, my garden is seeded. One picture was taken during the snowfall and one after. By way of explanation, beyond the swing, a comfortable swing, that doesn't squeeze my hips or cause hip dysplasia, is my garden, and beyond the garden is the tree stump Hub planted upside down.

We haven't done it yet, but on hot summer days, we plan to drape ourselves in skimpy faux-fur body scarfs and sit under the stump. We will sip jars of cool lemonade and wave to passer-bys. A pretense it would seem of the lives of Fred and Wilma Flintstone.

So now you know. 'Playing cabin' is not the only game we play.

4 comments:

Scotia said...

Haha! I ended up with "fresh preshed footprints..." I have not been drinking! ;)

The Old Bag said...

Hopefully the garden is waiting patiently and is WARM under the ground and snow....

Roberta S said...

I know what you mean, Scotia. I was trying to hurriedly read my poem to Hub and found it so impossible I finally flung my scrap of paper in front of him and told him he'd have to read it himself. That's when I discovered what a tongue-twister it was.

Roberta S said...

Old Bag, I so hope you are right. I think most of it will be okay. I will know in a few weeks which one of those seeds-in-hiding had their pants down when the snow came and got a BIG CHILL!