Unseasonal

My poem this week’s a little late
Because I couldn’t concentrate
Busy looking at the weather
I couldn’t get my thoughts together
This weekend: Memorial Day
Is supposed to be for summer play
But in Vermont it’s been so cold
That on Saturday it was so bold
As to snow!
So there you go
My concentration was destroyed
But rather than to be annoyed
I decided it was kind of nice
A bit of winter, at least a slice
It’s warming up again today
Back to what you expect in May

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Fun: Vermont Style

When the dead of winter comes each year
In a little town I hold so dear
Folks decide there is a reason
To take a plunge and make themselves freezin’

With the temp so low and the lake so frozen
I myself would not have chosen
To do something so bold
As to take a dip in the cold

But my friends in V. T.
Are much different than me
They think it’s nice
To cut a hole in the ice

They raise funds and divide into teams
And on the big day everyone screams
As one by one, into the lake they go
The heck with the temp, and the ice, and the snow!

And for their efforts what do they get?
Besides freezing cold and thoroughly wet?
Food for the food bank and cash for good causes
I think they deserve many claps and applauses.

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Polar Splash

Photo Gallery

Polar Splash Video

Have Cat Carrier, Will Travel

The world is Betty’s oyster
She wants to see it all
Mention of a road trip
And she knows she’ll have a ball

Betty is a cat who
Likes to be on the go
Her whiskers get all twitchy
And her tail swishes to and fro

She hops into her cat carrier
And we put her in the car
But she meows to be set free
Before we’ve gotten very far

After poking around the back seat
She’s ready for a nap
The sun shining through the windshield
She settles on passenger’s lap

When the car stops for gas
Betty knows her place
With no prompting from her people
She re-enters her carrier space

At the hotel eventually we arrive
And Betty approves the room
After a brief stop at her litter box
Around and around she zooms

She finds a cozy window sill
Where she presides during the day
She enjoys her new surroundings
While her people go out to play

The road trip over and done with
Her cat carrier tucked away
Betty rests up on her home turf
Ready to travel some other day

Why I Love Summer

The sights I see off of my dock,
Let me just sit here and take accurate stock.
Sailboards, and canoes, and kayaks galore
And every other kind of boat, you name it, for sure.

No yachts, but who needs something so big
When one can ski behind a much smaller rig?
Pontoon boats and power boats pull kids all ages and sizes.
Everyone has fun, but no one wins prizes.

The waterfowl need no help staying afloat.
They probably laugh at all of us fools in a boat.
Loons, and merganzers, a gull, and ducks mallard.
It’s the birds that inspired this ridiculous ballard.

The water itself is a fabulous sight
The lake gets all sparkly under brilliant sunlight
And the waterlillies bounce upon the waves so mild
Is it any wonder I’ve loved this place since I was a child?

Salute to William Gilbert

The Pirates of Penzance I did go to see
Gilbert and Sullivan is a definite guarantee
For nonsense to reign and let logic get set free
Just the thing to bring me happiness and glee

Gilbert, the master, could always find a rhyme
For any word or situation, he did it every time
Out of every muddle, mishap, and hill the hero had to climb
Because a sad ending would really be a crime

The stories are ridiculous, the characters are trite
But Mr. Gilbert was never ever any too uptight
To describe every silly saga as a perilous plight
Much to my sheer and thoroughly entertained delight

The silliest stanzas get repeated and repeated
Never, ever, ever would they ever be deleted
Since we the audience would then feel rather cheated
For the show for which we were staying seated

In comparison my own poems are almost somewhat serious
Although I try to make each one extremely cheerious
I could write until my eyes were bloodshot and blearious
And never come up with something quite so downright delirious

Where Ice Cream Comes From

Open house at a Vermont creamery
Where they produce ice cream downright dreamery
Maple, chocolate, and even blueberrery

Dairy farmers have to make ends meet
By staying on their toes and on their feet
No time for sitting on their seat

Cheese-makers, ice cream-makers, goat-milkers and more
All of them working hard to try to be sure
Of paying the bills whatever the future has in store

We saw alpacas, a pig, and a cow, of course
As a way to spend an afternoon, we could have done worse
Than to see where ice cream comes from, right at the source.

Loonatic Shtick

The loons off my dock
My summer they do rock

Big, black, and white
They are such a lovely sight

Magical creatures
With many mystical features

Oh, my goodness! Hark!
Is that them yodeling in the dark?

Haunting is the sound
Dreamy, and mellow, and profound

Another interesting fact?
The chicks ride mommy piggyback

Mom can’t walk around so hot
But skill at flying, swimming, and diving she do got

The nest is made
In the marshes in the shade

And Mom is not alone
Papa Loon spends lots of time at home

He shares duties nesting
While Mamma Loon goes off someplace resting

Come July we will have chicks!
And go ahead, call me a hick

But I cannot wait
For this most exciting date!

Betty the Cat’s Summertime Blues

Off of the edge of our screened-in porch
Betty the cat did see
A chipmunk running to and fro
With energy and glee

The chipmunk ran around the corner
Merrily here and there
Betty sputtered disapproval
Her garden she does not share

Chipmunk hopped upon the trellis
And stuck out his tongue to her
Betty’s tail got big and wide
And trust me she did not purr

But Betty, in truth, was happy too
An indoor cat she is
Watching the critters just out of her reach
Gives her hours of joy and bliss

Daydreaming

No poem last week, too busy driving
The two day trek to Vermont, where I’m now thriving

Gardening, canoeing, and writing galore
How I’ll spend my summer, of that I am sure

Our shack up here we’ve named Daydream Cottage
Hubby and cat and I love it a lottage

The porch is where I’m at most of the time
Watching ducks and loons, all most sublime

The internet is hit or miss, with no TV at all
So much seclusion and quiet. I’m having a ball!

Welcome to My Life

Quirky people, beyond spectacular scenery, and gobs of solitude. Any blog about me and my muse has got to begin in Vermont. It’s where I was born, where I have spent my summer vacations ever since, and where I am right now. Here’s why.

Like I said—beyond spectacular. Views like this have always inspired me. I didn’t think much about my muse when I was a child, but I did spend many hours imagining what was beyond that first ridge of mountains. Or the second ridge? What magic was happening in that magical and strange place where it goes from green to purple? Okay, so I was a weird kid.

As an adult, I might know what mountain I’m admiring, and the name of the town nestled in the valley on the other side, but it’s still magical. And I’m still weird. I stop the car regularly and irregularly to stare in awe at sights such as this. Call it goofing off, call it peace of mind, or call it communing with God. Whatever it is, it cues my muse.

Getting more specific, this my magical place in magical Vermont. I’ve been writing nonsense at Lake Elmore since I was about ten. A few years ago my husband and I bought a shack up here and the dock you see is my very own. I started my first mystery sitting out there. Three unpublished novels later, I’m still up here every summer, writing to my heart’s content. It’s called idyllic, and it cues my muse.

I warned you I’m weird. That’s me on the porch of my shack, Daydream Cottage. I’m out here every morning with my cat and my computer, writing. Okay, so sometimes I get distracted by the lake, which is about twenty feet in front of me, but mostly I write. I wear my pajamas because even if someone paddles by and sees me, this is Lake Elmore and it’s all okay. I wear my hat to keep the sun out of my eyes. And the fuzzy slippers keep me warm. Northern Vermont can be chilly in the morning, even in the summer. This is called routine and it cues my muse too.