Infestation fascination.

The parents - Mommalah and Papa - are still deciding on whether or not to open the pool this year.

To them, it doesn't seem to suffice when I'm the only one who goes in it - and by "go in it," I mean I just float in my purple inflatable boat (sans oars because they were a disaster I don't want to retell. Ever.).

So Mommalah and I sat in our chairs in the nippy breeze for a few minutes today to enjoy the fall-like weather we so love.

Something on the pool's winter cover piqued her interest and she went to investigate, telling me to stay put because she thought it might be a snake, which is something I'm always in fear of seeing this time of year at the country haus.
{Known from here on out as "That Which We Do Not Speak Of."}

Thankfully, it was just a big ol' frog, so I joined her on the far side of the pool to see if I could spot it for myself.

When I peered into the water on the cover, I yelped, "Oh. My. God."
Just below the surface were thousands - and I mean thousands - of tadpoles.

I ran around the pool in complete shock and fascination because, despite growing up in Bumblefeck Egypt, I had never seen a real, live tadpole.
{They look just like sperm - which is all sorts of gross, but at least they were not thousands of TWWDNSO. I'd die. Die, I say.}

I said, "Mom, there must be like a million here."
To which she replied, "I can see that."
I took a few steps and found even more and said, "Mom, look at all these over here!"
And she said, "OK, stop, I see them."
{It should be noted that, at this point, she was nearing a boiling point.}
And when I got around to the steps in the shallow end, there was the mother load (pun not intended, ew) of tadpoles.
I mean seriously, at least 500 in this part of the cover, so I said:
"Mom, holy shit! There's a ton over here!"
And then she told me to shut up, and the tone of her voice actually, for once, made me shut up.

I hope to be there if they ever get to the point when they decide to turn from tadpoles into frogs. I may have to take video - of her reaction.

A few haiku from Easter.

Easter Sunday, I took a hike at my "country haus" with camera in tow to shoot Inspiring Woods Photos.
Hoped to see some sort of feral creature, like a chupacabra or something, but sadly, did not.

My slow-ass dial-up takes three years off my life to upload, but I finally got all the photos up.
Here are three so far and their accompanying haiku.
(The third one is amateurish at best, but it kind of grew on me ... just had a horrid thought, what if they're all amateurish and you're all laughing at me?
I will be brave and take the chance. Gulp.)

More to follow anyhow.



No more students learn
in this abandoned kindling
that longs for a marm.



Pumpkins once grew here
orange orbs I could barely lift,
now field lies in wait.



Who calls this nook home?
A nut collector? Hobbit?
I would like me to.

Sundays in the country.

Just around the bend,
is a place of truest love -
my home, sweet sweet home.
Surrounded by countryside,
it is the one place I'm me.

Lately, the strife in my life has made going home sweet home all the more sweet.
It's nice knowing I can go there and let the guard no one ever gets to see down, down.

Today was just one of those perfect days.
The sun was blinding as it reflected off the pond, as it dried my clothes out on the line, as it blasted into the orange kitchen brilliantly.
The wine, music, laughter and food were great (as always), and knowing I am loved unconditionally is a hell of a pick-me-up.

Two haiku for you (+ a tanka) ...

Spent day - as I do nearly every Sunday - at my parents in Dallas, or my "country haus" as I fondly call it.
Mom and I took a nice walk around our pond, and up our dirt road a little. I so love this time of year up there.
The smells are so fantastic, the air is just so crisp and fresh and I found it very inspiring, majestic even.

So much so, that I am going to share two haiku and one tanka poem with you - as well as two pics I've taken previously. Enjoy ...

Rusty trees reflect
on the black inky water
under chilly sky.

(this photo was taken a few weeks ago, before the colors of the trees exploded)

Country air just smells
different - more pure, holy -
than the city air.
Breathing in its cool freshness,
I am reborn every week.

A sun-dappled path
leads off into the unknown,
leaves crunch underfoot.

(this was taken last fall, I love how ethereal the light is shining through the trees)