Tan Renga Wednesday on Saturday: Cherry Trees in Full Bloom

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springtime is coming

hope to put the longer days

to practical use

shadows become longer

cherry tree in full bloom grows

~Chèvrefeuille & cie~

notes

Once my son and I are done clearing out that blasted mobile home (the one where I lived for 18 years and he lived for close to ten) we will finally be able to concentrate on what we want to do with our new home. I would like to plant a few dwarf fruit trees. I've always loved cherries, both as a fruit and a plant. I try to keep looking to the future, to have aspirations but also keep in mind the need for practicality due to my health issues.

The Ageku of this Renga is © Chèvrefeuille. The Hokku was written by me.

Carpe Diem Tan Renga Wednesday: Winter Chrysanthemum

Image by Marjon Besteman-Horn from Pixabay

Winter chrysanthemum,

Wearing nothing

but its own light

I wear a sweatshirt for warmth

and think about my garden

~Mizuhara Shūōshi & cie~

notes

The Hokku is © Mizuhara Shūōshi (1892-1981). The Ageku was written by yours truly.

Heeding Haiku: First Snowfall

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outside my new home

the first snow begins to fall

melancholy hope

~Cie~

Carpe Diem #1773: Tanka: Bury Me on the Lone Prairie

Image Copyright Aubrey Danielle

when my time is done

I want my last breaths to be

on the lone prairie

not in a hospital room

I leave with the whistling wind

~Cie~

Notes:

You happier chappies are probably saying "ugh, there goes that gloomy old Cie with another gloomy poem." But I don't think this poem is gloomy. I think it's real.

I worked in long-term care for most of the 25 years that I was in the medical field. I think that people who work in this setting tend to become very adamant that we do not want to end up dying in a medicalized setting.

My father died in a hospice center. It was a peaceful place with a spacious, comfortable room. He was in constant pain and losing his capacity to think and remember things. It was much better than being in a hospital or nursing home. But for myself, I don't want my end to be even that medicalized. I want to look out the window and see my Lone Prairie before I rise up and walk away on the wind that constantly blows in these parts.

Visit the Artist

Ghost Town Grover Sez:

"Dagnabit, Ornery, ya morbid ole cuss! Ya done went and made Cactus Clem gloomy with all yer chatter about croakin'. Now, I know I'm a ghost, but I've been a ghost fer near to 110 years. We ghosts like to whoop it up on Halloween night, but I ain't gonna be doin' much whoopin' it up if I've gotta be tryin' to cheer Cactus Clem up. So, what the heck are you gonna do about it?"

Image by nancy sticke from Pixabay

Visit the Artist

Cactus Clem Sez:

"Aw, thanks Ornery! Them ghost puppies is jest the thing to cheer a feller!"

Happy Halloween from the Grover Hotel Gang

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 20: Haibun My Way: From the Mountains to the Prairie

Image by Free-Photos from Pixabay

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You see a lot of these critters along the county roads leading to Grover. You have to be careful because sometimes they'll want to cross the road. Unfortunately, I see a fair number of them dead on the roadside. Hitting one would probably total my car, which is one reason I don't like to drive after dark on the Lone Prairie.

And now, on to our Haibun.

In the days of my youth, I loved to party. If anyone asked me to go out to a club, I’d immediately say “yes.” I loved to drink and dance.

I always dreamed of living in a glorious mansion, the sort of place that was the toast of the town.

I have always loved the mountains. For most of my life I lived near the mountains and could not imagine living anywhere else.

The prairie? “Well, how bland and boring is that?” I asked myself.

Except I never really found the prairie bland and boring. I was just repeating what I was supposed to think. Still, I could not imagine living in a place where I couldn’t see the mountains.

Then just this year, I discovered a place a hundred miles from where I’d lived for many years: a place way out on the prairie.

I no longer see the mountains every day, but I love what I see now just as much.

My dream home is in a place that I couldn’t have imagined, far from city nightlife, way out on the prairie. I wouldn’t want it to be anyplace else, and if you asked me to go clubbing these days, I’d look at you as if you had three heads because I can imagine few things I’d want to do less. I prefer to stay home and listen to the wind whistling through the prairie grass instead.

the whispering wind

billowing the prairie grass

sounds like home to me

~Cie~

Notes:

Visit the Artist

Ghost Town Grover Sez: 

"I liked this here High Bun. I ain't up to writin' no High Bun myself right now, but I got a poem fer y'all.

In the days of old when I mined fer gold

Life shore was excitin'

But these days I prefer an easier life

So the Lone Prairie is more invitin'

Visit the Artist

Cactus Clem sez:

"I like that Ornery writes poetry that's more rootin' tootin' than High Fallutin'. I ain't never fit in real well with them High Fallutin' folks myself. Which is okay, 'cause I think them high society parties is kinda boring anyways.

I don't like to go to parties

In the high society

'Cause it's a prickly problem

When them fancy folks stick to me

If you'd like to read Grover and Clem's Halloween adventure, Horrible Harvest, click here.

Carpe Diem #1764: Ants

Image by FRANCO PATRIZIA from Pixabay

have not seen any

ants marching through my pantry

dead hornet in sink

~Cie~

Notes:

I've encountered most of the usual suspect home invaders out here on the Lone Prairie: flies, hornets, mosquitoes, but no ants yet. My son and I have found several dead hornets. I suppose they came in when we opened the window on hot days. The windows need screens, which is probably a project for spring.

OctPoWriMo 2019: Day 16: Harried to the Grave

Image by fancycrave1 from Pixabay

it does not matter

matter one measure if

if you measure your time

time on an Apple watch

watch your time on an old

old beat-up analog tick-tick 

tick-tick the sound

sound as time is running out

out of your wasting life

life where triumphs come

come slowly and don't seem

seem to stick around at all

all the while your life is wasting

wasting away fast as a wish

wish you would stop

stop giving away 

away all your me time

time to see time as

as a commodity time

time does not come free

free time does not align

align with being a successful

successful mess who never

never ever stops

stops to wind her old watch

watch time slip away 

away until one day 

day when there are

are no more days

days are numbered from the first

first moment you take a breath

breath that leads to death

death comes for us all

all of us must fall

fall back into the time

time when time didn't matter 

matter meant nothing

nothing meant anything

anything was possible

possible dreams

dreams become schemes

schemes become obsession

obsession consumes life

life becomes lie

lie down and die

die and become

become as you were before earth

earth before your birth 

birth

earth

~Cie~

Note:

I was always one of those "I'll sleep when I'm dead" kinds of people. I worked long hours at physically taxing jobs. I worked long weeks filled with long hours. I was proud of being able to push myself well past the limits. 

My diabetes got worse, I had a small stroke, and I had a severe injury to the median nerve in my left arm. My ability to work long hours at physically difficult jobs was gone forever. At the point when I had a small stroke, I was fired from my job as a home health nurse.

I live with fairly frequent suicide ideation, but the actual planning levels are pretty low as a rule. After I was fired, I started making plans to commit suicide because I felt like the world's worst fuck-up, like without my job I was nothing. 

This is not going to be one of those "oh, but I'm so glad I didn't because I found God, got down to a single-digit pants size, somehow started looking half my age, married GQ Cover Model Guy, and now my life is a Hallmark Channel movie" stories. 

Nah.

Still a crabby, fat, romanceless, agnostic, middle-aged, broke-ass curmudgeon. Still would be homeless if it wasn't for my son's kindness. 

But I am glad I didn't commit suicide because if I had I wouldn't have been able to help my son get this house, and I wouldn't have found me.

Me is kind of an asshole, but we're on better terms these days now that I've had the time to get to know her a little.

Also, I have a feeling that sometimes those Hallmark Channel happy crappy stories about pretty people hooking up and living happily ever after might even make some people depressed. Like, you know, me. I think some people may need to know that an old crabby fat bitch learned that old, crabby, fat bitches have something to offer too without changing one fucking thing about themselves.

Carpe Diem Renga with Issa: Sparrows

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spring peace--

after rain, a gang war

garden sparrows

the seeds that I have planted

are a victory buffet

don't let the plum blossom guard

cut your tongues...

Sparrows! 

let voices be a whisper

until you are safely past

are the sparrows too

having a private party?

plum blossoms

no, I was not invited

I now watch from the window

while I watch

he's off to make a living alone...

baby sparrow

sometimes the ones who leave home
invite the parents to stay

living in harmony--

the sparrow has

both parents!
will the parents be able
to live in harmony too?

on the tip of the

newly sprouted bamboo...

a baby sparrow
a small and innocent thing
in a world without a heart

~Issa and Cie~

Notes:

The Hokku stanzas in these Tan Renga verses were composed by Kobayashi Issa (June 15, 1763 – January 5, 1828). The Akegu stanzas were written by me.

The Akegu in the last three verses are references to my son, without whose kindness I would be homeless. The property he bought will eventually also become home to his father who is currently living in Arizona helping his own father. When his father passes, he will sell the place in Arizona and move here.

We were divorced in 1994 when our son was four years old, and we have lived in roommate situations since then, although I was always relieved when he moved on to something else if I am honest. That probably won't happen this time, due to compromises in his health as well as mine. However, this is a big enough place that we should be able to keep from killing each other.

Carpe Diem Acts of Devotion: Kumb Melah

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you may join us here

and wash away the troubles

which keep you bound

repeating the same mistakes

wanting a chance to be free

~Cie~

Notes:

Visit the Artist

Visit the Artist

Ghost Town Grover Sez: 

Ain't nothin' like a good ole shindig at the ole swimmin' hole! 

Cactus Clem loves swim parties even though he don't swim too good. He just wades out an' drinks his fill!

But I didn't come here to talk about Cactus Clem an' his weird drinkin' habits.

I came here to tell y'all that the Ornery Old Lady and her son made their official move to the ole Grover Hotel today an' they bought a special pal with 'em. 

Click the link to c'mon by and hear all about it!

Carpe Diem Field of Flowers 2019: Zinnia

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I have a feeling

that zinnias will appear

in my new garden

a dainty-looking flower

which thrives in harsh places

~Cie~

Notes:

Those of you who are only interested in the poetry can hop off the bus here.

Those who enjoy trivia and my Grover updates, keep on truckin' with me.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that zinnias thrive in harsh climates. (Wikipedia entry here.) Another fun fact: they are native to scrub and dry grasslands.

Colorado has notoriously awful soil, but I remember my mother growing zinnias in her garden. I have a bad reputation as a plant murderer with a serious black thumb. Zinnias, however, seem like they might be able to withstand me.

Here are some recent images from the Grover Hotel renovation. The awful extension has been successfully removed, along with the back porch which was rotting and barely attached to the house. Our thanks to Northern Colorado Excavating for the assistance in removing this strange structure, which was serving as housing for wasps. Fortunately, no-one got stung.

If you purchase a product using one of the links below, I earn a small commission.

Carpe Diem Summer Challenge 2019: Twilight

Image by DarkWorkX from Pixabay

Looking forward to

Finally seeing twilight

From the window of

My new home on the prairie

Will the day finally come?

~Cie~

Notes:

When you invest in a historic property in a way-off-the-beaten-path town, there can be holdups. This place is not move-in ready, and getting it to that state is proving to be a challenge. It's been like pulling teeth for the electrician to get the necessary permits. He's trying his best, but the people who are supposed to be helping him aren't being very helpful. He said that usually permit people are more than happy to take your money.

It's also been like pulling teeth to get the proposal from the plumbing company. Why don't these people want our money? If they don't get the proposal to my email tomorrow, I'm going to tell them that we'll come to the office and sign it. 

With my health issues, these 250-mile round trips are knocking me on my ass. I'm an old night shift worker who has never slept well at night and these contractors like to get cracking at the ass-crack of dawn. 

I may suggest to my son that we consider packing everything from the townhouse into a pod and staying in one of those by-the-week motels in Greeley so we don't have to keep making this drive. It's really taking a toll on me. Of course, we'd have to find one that would allow cats...hell, it's always something.

Anyway, this bit is going to start coming down today, so that's a start.

Don't Move, This is a Haibun! The Magic of the Prairie

Pawnee National Grasslands, Northeastern Colorado

Most folks will tell you that the prairie is boring, depressing, and certainly not a magical place.

The truth is, although the prairie may appear drab in comparison to more immediately impressive environs such as tall mountains, clear lakes, or beautiful beaches, it is a fascinating and adaptive setting which holds many wonderful stories and secrets.

Prairie grass is strong and resilient. It prevents erosion of the topsoil and can withstand long periods of dryness. It provides food and a home for many species of marvelous creatures.

beneath the surface

this drab land in its plain dress

full of surprises

~Cie~

Also sharing with the Spread the Kindness linkup.

Useful resources to learn about the North American grasslands.

http://shelledy.mesa.k12.co.us/staff/computerlab/ColoradoLifeZones_Plains_Plants.html

https://wrangle.org/ecotype/north-american-short-grass-prairie

Disclosure: 

If you purchase one of the books featured in this search, I will receive a small commission. Any commissions earned will be used to fund the restoration of the historic Grover Hotel, which is now proudly owned by my son. Grover is a very small town on the northeastern plains of Colorado.

To follow along with the project and for more about the various ventures of the Ornery Old Lady (me) and the wild cast of characters at the Grover Hotel and Ghostly General Store, please visit the Good Stuff From Grover blog.

Haikai Challenge #91: Midsummer Rain

Copyright Xenia Tran

On the return drive

From a life-changing journey

Drops became torrent

~Cie~

Prompt Used:

Haikai Poetry Matters

Notes:

Today the final decision was made and my son and his dad agreed to close on the historic Grover Hotel. To follow along with our story in renovating and living in this building in a Northeast Colorado ghost town, visit my Good Stuff From Grover blog. (Also features samplings of my poetry and other good stuff.)

Troiku Challenge 2019: Day 2: My Native Town

Image by David Mark from Pixabay

my native town

far, far away--

burgeoning trees.

my native town

i never fit anywhere

and now i must go

far, far away--

i make a new life happen

i will still see you

burgeoning trees

buffeted by prairie wind

my new home is here

Santoka Taneda & Cie

Notes:

The Sleigh portion of the Troiku was created by Santoka Taneda (3 December 1882 - 11 October 1940). The three "horses" were created by me.

I was born in Denver, Colorado on 15 February 1965. My parents were actually living in Laramie, Wyoming at the time. I was born in the middle of a blizzard at 6 A.M. and have caused nothing but trouble ever since.

After my brother was born on 17 March 1969, my parents moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico so my father could finish his doctorate. We lived in a rundown house in a bad part of town. There were fire ants, black widow spiders, and cockroaches the size of school buses. However, we had a half acre of land and were allowed to have chickens. We planted corn and beans. There were horned toads and skinks. The neighbor had pheasants and bees. He was an okay guy who pretty much kept to himself. His wife was a fire-and-brimstone Fundamentalist who called me a filthy slut for taking my shirt off on a hot day. I was four years old at the time.

A New Mexico accent is similar to a Texas accent, and when we moved back to Colorado when I was ten years old, all the other kids ridiculed the way I talked. I was already shy, and this led to me becoming even more withdrawn. I always hated school. I was never well-liked or anything even in the same zip code as popular. To this day, I still hate the sound of my own voice and I hate when people ask the innocent question of "where are you from?" My knee-jerk reaction is to answer "Mars," because I've never felt like I belonged on this planet.

Many, many years later, I live in the suburbs of Denver, but it costs too much to keep living there. Denver is one of those cities whose working classes can't afford to live there. A condo or small townhouse in Denver costs around $250,000, and then the owner still has to pay HOA fees which average $600 per month in the Denver area. The average salary for someone in the working classes in the Denver area is $12 per hour. See how that doesn't add up?

For someone who is disabled, things are even worse. There is a waiting list to even be considered for subsidized housing. The homeless population is growing by leaps and bounds. Even a modest apartment is out of reach for people in the working class.

Thus, people in the working class are moving out of cities like Denver to rural areas. If they continue working in Denver, they have a long commute. If they are unable to continue working, they end up on the dole. 

My son and I are moving to Grover, which is approximately 110 miles northeast of Denver. He has a modest amount of money being given to him by his father following the sale of farmland. This money allows for the purchase of a six-bedroom historic hotel and renovations on said structure. Property taxes in this area are low. The average person living in this area falls below the median income for the state and many fall below the poverty line. My son and I are among the people who fall below the poverty line. We are both disabled and neither of us can work conventional jobs.

Moving to this place is a risk but also an opportunity. 

It is also our last hope.

Here's to Grover, my last stop on the journey, and possibly the first place I'll truly feel I can call home.

Join us for updates and other curiosities at the Good Stuff From Grover site!