After the rain…

Still going through my papers. Still finding things which I find interesting.

This poem was written by a very young daughter Susan and dated 2/14/80.
I like it, although I’m sure Susan would write it very differently today.

AFTER THE RAIN

A singular droplet of crystalline water fell upon my brow,
Drawing my face upwards to see if the sky would begin to
Cry in earnest.

The heavenly shower began to pour around me;
Washing away the sins of the world in a sporadic burst of
Innumerable silver amulets.
The horizon was clothed in dismal grey as the relentless
Storm sent the nectar of the clouds crashing to earth in
Wind-blown fury.

My consciousness soon became as drenched and distraught as
The sparrow in the treetop, being thrashed about
By his maker’s own discontentment.
After the clouds had scoured the earth with efficient grace,
They retreated to their mountaintop mansion,
Allowing the sun to once again bathe the earth in brilliant,
Warming rays.

A spectrum of colours danced across the heavens
As the mist evaporated into clear, blue skies,
Reflecting the light of life in it’s entirety,
Radiance and joy were to be found everywhere:
For even in the frail web of the spider,
Translucent, shimmering specks of water gleamed like
Diamonds on a string.

Beauty was granted a chance to show full face
As the world responded to the precious gift the clouds
Had bestowed upon the earth.

*P.S. Don’t be concerned if I don’t post for awhile. I’ll be busy with other things.

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Posts to read…

Hey everyone: I’m having hand surgery tomorrow. It will take a little time to mend and will then be better. What to do until I can type again?

Here’s what I came up with. I went to 2012 and 2013 and chose some of what I believe are the better posts I wrote then. Read some of them. If you don’t like one, try another. There ought to be something you’ll enjoy.

Cary Grant, ‘A Conversatrion with Cary Grant’

To select the one you want, go to the box on the upper right of the home page where the magnifying glass is, type in the name of the post as I’ve listed it.

Alma Mahler, ‘Reflections on Reincarnation‘

Lynda Carter ‘She only looks as though she knows’

Favorite Sayings. June, 2012

The Most Beautiful Cat in the World, March 3, 2013

Reflections on Reincarnation, April 21, 2013

She Only Looks As Though She Knows, May, 2013

‘Murder in the Bedroom‘

A Conversation with Cary Grant, June 22, 2013

Falling in Love, Literally, July 21, 2013

Murder in the Bedroom, Sept 21, 2013

Caution: May Contain Peanuts, uh, Breasts
(Reader discretion is advised) Sept 2, 2013

Sometimes things won’t let us lose them, Dec 22, 2013

Happy reading.
I’ll be fine and I’ll be back soon.

Planning the perfect murder…

photo by Chandra

I noticed him hiding in the other bathroom. I didn’t panic. I’d done that years before when one of his pals had pulled the same stunt and I wasn’t going to do the panic thing again. No way!

Last time I was terrified. I slammed the door shut. Flew helter-skelter to my bedroom. Wrapped myself up like a burrito in blankets and pulled the top sheet over my face. (Anyone seeing me would have thought me already dead.)

This time, I tiptoed quietly back to my bed to — THINK. What to do?? Use your head lady! Let’s plan this — carefully.

He was obviously smaller than the last guy, but he had longer legs. Did being smaller make him more vulnerable?

No matter. I came up with a plan. I’d quietly creep back there, catch him unawares and pour scalding hot water all over him. That ought to do it!

I did! I poured and poured until he had to be dead. Quickly I grabbed a clean tissue from a nearby box and, just in case he could rise again, before you could say ‘Green Eggs and Ham’, scooped him up and flushed him down the toilet. Whoosh!

Is it true it will rain if you kill a spider? Maybe so and I’ll be responsible. I also know they serve a purpose, but they do scare me — probably because I know so little about them.

This time success made me feel invincible….

P.S. To read what happened last time, read:  ’Murder in the Bedroom’
by clicking on: https://viewfromoverthehill.wordpress.com/2013/09/

Remembering rain stories…

Susan, who still loves all creatures, and me

After the oh-so-hot, humid, smoky summer, the first rainfall

Susan playing with Rafi, she also loved him

was a blessing. It watered the parched earth, delighted growing things, cleaned the air, and brought joy to our residents. I purposely walked without a hat to experience those precious drops running down my face. The years fell away. I felt like a naughty child.

While relishing the much-needed rain, I thought of other walks taken years ago in Los Angeles where droughts could last for years. It didn’t make sense to buy boots for the children. They were rarely needed. I’d just wrap plastic bags over their shoes and out we’d go to either walk or splash about in the water, and sometimes sail hand-made paper boats.

On one such walk with 4-year old Susan, who loves every creature that flies, walks, crawls or slithers, she was worried. Dozens of worms were out because of the rain.

Little pink worms

“The sidewalk must hurt their little pink bellies,” she fretted, as she gently picked each worm off the cement and placed it onto the soft grass of the parkway. I like thinking of that rainy day.

Which reminds me of the morning 3-year-old Susan woke up and

I can’t find my green buggie

was crying. Concerned, I ran to her room. It seems the night before, she’d carefully placed a green bug to sleep in her bedside table drawer. Of course, the bug was nowhere to be found. She was distraught. Tears flowed. Seeing her so upset tugged at my heart. I knew it was useless, but what to do? I found myself crawling on the floor with her ‘looking’ for her ‘green buggy’. Well, what would you have done? Finally, the child had to settle for a hug.

There was also the time her kindergarten teacher had a container full of crickets to feed to a lizard. Susan decided the crickets must be unhappy cooped up in a

A

little carton. She turned them loose. This resulted in absolute chaos. Children, terrified of the little creatures, screamed, ran around and jumped up and down on chairs and desks — that is — all except Susan, who delighted in having given the crickets freedom and loved seeing them going off in all directions. Then, those crickets had to be gathered when/if possible. Oh, dear. (I learned about this adventure through a complaint from Susan’s suffering teacher.)

Another day Susan came home from school, again in tears, because she

A family of roaches?

had found a ‘cute family’ of cockroaches to bring to her beloved mother. A ‘mean’ boy slapped them out of her hand and stomped on them.

‘It’s okay Susie,’ I said hearing her tale of woe, ‘Perhaps they’re alright and he just took them to HIS mother.’ I doubt I ever told Susan how relieved I was those little critters hadn’t made it to our home.

Talking about bugs, once on the way to school ((Kindergarten again) Susan

Snails all over her coat

picked up every snail she saw. They, too, come out when it rains. She arrived at school with her pockets full of snails, and snails crawling all over her coat. Her poor teacher gave her an empty shoe box, and all the snails were saved and brought home to lucky me. I wasn’t that thrilled with this gift, we had a garden, but what can you say to a child who treasures every creature.

Enough rain stories. Stay well and enjoy each day.

Murder in the Bedroom

Dressed only in my nightie, I was brushing my teeth. Why did I turn? I don’t know. But when I did, I saw……a huge, brown spider, at least 1 1/2 inches big with long legs. It was crawling in under the closed bathroom door. For a moment, I was fascinated by the size of the creature, until….I realized I was barefoot. Suddenly, I felt extremely vulnerable.

What kind of spider grows so large? Should I be scared? Yes! I was scared. It stopped in its tracks. It studied me. I grabbed a magazine and waved it menacingly at the critter, shouting: “Shoo! Go away! Out!”

What do I know about spiders?

The spider didn’t react or budge. It was determined. Did it move closer? Oh, oh..maybe it did. What do I know about spiders? Nothing. Would it bite my bare foot? Would the bite be dangerous? I didn’t like the situation. I handled it wisely if not with dignity. I ran out of there as fast as I could without rinsing my mouth, slamming the door behind me. (Not that the door had kept it out in the first place, mind you, but in panic mode, don’t expect me to think rationally.)

After rinsing my mouth in the other bathroom, I crawled into bed and lay there thinking. Spiders can climb, can’t they? I got up and checked all the blankets to be sure none were touching the floor. Okay, I admit that was silly. Beds don’t float in space. And, the useless exercise didn’t make me feel any better. I wrapped myself tightly within the blankets. It was too warm. Which would you rather, a big brown spider as a bedmate or a little discomfort?

It was Sunday. Every Sunday night 101FM replays old radio shows, like “The Shadow”, or “The Inner Sanctum”. These radio shows fascinated and terrified me when I was little, and I enjoy hearing them again. On this particular night “The Shadow” was on. What do you think the story was about?

A lonely, desperate, murderous madman lived in a small, dark room full of spider webs with his only friend and companion — a huge spider. What a coincidence. How could they do this to me??? The story was actually silly, but that didn’t make me feel any better. The spider was so large the Shadow had to use his gun to kill it. At any other time, I’d have been amused, but on this night with my own huge spider lurking about, it was somewhat disconcerting.

After a restless night, I arose and carefully donned slippers (which I don’t usually bother with) to get to my bath. I carefully studied the white tiled floor in the bathroom and checked the bathtub before I climbed in. Back in my bedroom, I dressed, shaking each garment out first — just in case, and then checked each shoe and shook it upside down before I put it on. I was thinking spider, spider, spider…. I went out for breakfast.

The daily local newspaper “24 Hours” had an article by Chris Campbell, on Sept. 2nd. The headline read:  “Expert Says BC Spiders Invading Homes for Sex.”

Male spiders enter homes looking for sex, honest….

Honest. Would I make this up? You can check it on the Internet. Apparently this is the time of year spiders are the largest, and it is their mating season, so the males enter homes looking for lovers. And, our province has more than 900 different kinds! Yikes!

A few days after first meeting my uninvited roommate, I was going through my new, careful, obsessive early morning routine when I spotted, on the carpet right in my bedroom, that same huge spider. He had crept silently into my oh-so private space and had the audacity to sit there on the carpet as if he owned the place. Absolutely unafraid, he watched me dress. How dare he! A veritable arachnid Peeping Tom!!

Enough was enough. With vengeance on my mind and murder in my heart I attacked the intruder.

Enough was enough. I had had it! With vengeance on my mind and murder in my heart, I picked up a shoe I was sure could do him in as big as he was. I attacked the intruder who had managed to alter my life for days and ground him mercilessly into pulp. He is no more…..

This was not the first time I had an adventure with a spider, though the previous event was not as frightening and that spider wasn’t as large. I had just moved to town and celebrated the finding of my first job by buying myself some expensive, luxurious bubble-bath. I like bubble-baths and am convinced that if there is a heaven, they have them there. I poured the rich, blue liquid into my bath, and was just about to step in, when I noticed a black spider floating on the bubbles. I hesitated but a moment, then decided to take my bath with that spider. Later I  wrote this silly poem to remember the occasion.

My Bath with a Spider

My bath with a spider

Early this morning

I took a bath

with a spider.

It was not my intention.

What I had planned

were some bubbles,

a cup of coffee,

leisure and relaxation.

I turned on the faucet,

poured the rich, blue

foam from the pretty jar

and felt like — Cleopatra.

Too late I saw

the little creature

frantically trying

to escape the swirling water.

I could think of no way to save him,

so I just continued with

my morning ritual,

and took my bath with a spider.