haiku challenge

I have long been enamored with the elegant verse of haiku. The simple construction of five syllables, seven syllables, and five syllables sounds so natural and is nice to say aloud. When I feel too busy to write, I often turn to the haiku to distill what it is I want to say without a lot of additional text. As these waning days of summer have been so full, I turn again to the haiku to illustrate overflowing thoughts, more than I can write about. Just a haiku. Plain and simple. Less is more, less is more.

On brewing liqueurs for a fiftieth wedding anniversary

a mad scientist

mixing ruby elixirs.

berry alchemy

You probably didn't notice that the title was in haiku verse either? But seriously, returning to the simplicity thesis...

Sweet Tresses

What do I love so

much about weaving little

girls' hair with flowers?

Canning

Green peels, steamed and stirred.

A garden harvest transformed.

Summer in a jar.

So, did you think the haiku challenge is for me? By thinly veiled subterfuge at the end of my poetic streamings, I reveal that the challenge is for you! I challenge you to respond to this post in haiku. Or if you prefer, send me a favorite haiku and I will likely post it in the new monthly haiku column.

backyard leopard

Last week, my husband and four-year-old were headed to the chicken coop when she stopped to play on the swings. When my husband came out of the coop, she burst out, "Daddy, I saw a leopard!" I know right where she saw it too, because I saw it in the same place the week before. Can you guess what our backyard leopard is? It's a shy bobcat (Lynx rufus). Lynx is the Latin word for "lamp," which refers to their specialized eyes with expanded irises that allow them to hunt effectively at night.

Since their mottled coats blend in perfectly with their habitat, we're both so lucky to have seen it. Even when they curl up and sleep, they are almost impossible to see, unless they are sleeping under our backyard apple tree. This gnarly ancient tree has been a bobcat beacon for years, and once a hungry bobcat treed our monstrous peacock in it.

Perhaps the bobcats have been using the base of the tree as a hunting bed, where they will crouch for hours waiting for prey to approach--in this case my chickens. This year, our beautiful leopard has already claimed two bantams: a blue belgian and a speckled cheswick. (My chicken connoisseur friends will know I made up that last name to describe my mysterious chicken hybrid).

Bobcat tracks are rarely seen, although I usually see them every year or so. I have an advantage here having worked for famous cat biologist Ted Bailey in Alaska. There, as a US Fish and Wildlife Service employee, I used radio telemetry and snow tracking to study lynx, wolves, and marten. My animal tracking skills get constant practice up here in the mountains.

Although usually nocturnal, bobcats are also known to be active in the afternoons. One year, we saw a bobcat on four succesive Friday afternoons between 2pm and 4pm, each time with a chicken tucked between its teeth. I don't mind losing an occasional chicken to a bobcat and much prefer that to the cache kill survival technique of weasels and mink. As I say to my friends who really want to see a bobcat, try getting some chickens.

Seeing the bobcat reminds me how lucky I am to live where I can see wildlife instead of reading about it or seeing it on TV (which we don't get up here). Often right in the backyard. Obviously, I did not take the photo seen above. To see some really incredible photos of bobcats, go to link: http://www.oceanlight.com/lightbox.php?x=bobcat__mammal__animal

I keep looking out the kitchen window hoping for another glimpse of our leopard under the gnarly old apple tree. The chickens are under house arrest for the time being. While our bobcat is not that much bigger than our wiley housecat, I'm glad this is one kitty that my daughter chose not to pet. Here kitty, kitty, kitty!

twist on a tea party

Recipe for Mystery Kid Tea

one rainy day, not too cold

five assorted glass jars

five different flavored tea bags, wrappers removed

plenty of hot steaming water

one qualified tea taster to test it

When it rains on your party, there's usually a recipe for fun. This recipe received the honored kid seal of approval recently. One of my daughter's favorite books is Kid Tea by Elizabeth Ficocelli. Each weekday, described by a sing-song daily poem, ends with the evening bath. The bath water becomes Kid Tea and turns the color of whatever fun they were having. Blue Kid Tea for berry picking. Green Kid Tea for grass clipping. Brown Kid Tea for garden digging.

We adapted Kid Tea to a more culinary, sensory, empirical experiment. I placed mystery tea bags randomly in glass jars, poured hot water, and enlisted the services of a qualified tea test taster. Our discerning tea sommelier carefully described impressions of each tea cup aroma, color, and flavor, as well as each dry tea bag appearance and aroma. A scribe recorded the utterly unpredictable results below.

YogiTea "Hibiscus Paradise"

Tea Bag appearance-red. Tea Bag aroma-white flowers. Kid Tea aroma-pear. Kid Tea color-red. Kid Tea flavor-pear.

Salada "Orange Pekoe"

Tea Bag appearance-blue. Tea Bag aroma-toast. Kid Tea aroma-tea. Kid Tea color-brown, or little girls. Kid Tea flavor-bears.

Stash "Peppermint"

Tea Bag appearance-ground green. Tea Bag aroma-mint. Kid Tea aroma-mint. Kid Tea color-orange. Kid Tea flavor-mint.

Organic Genmaiche "Green Tea with Roasted Brown Rice"

Tea Bag appearance-brown, no yellow. Tea Bag aroma-bread. Kid Tea aroma-bread. Kid Tea color-yellow. Kid Tea flavor-granola bars.

Chanakara "Blue Ginger"

Tea Bag appearance-not sure. Tea Bag aroma-candy. Kid Tea aroma-blueberry. Kid Tea color-blue. Kid Tea flavor-blueberry.

I hope you liked our twist on a tea party! It's good rain-rain-go-away Kid Tea.

petal revolution

I love cut flowers, so have treated myself to a flower share at a local farm each year. Each week for 10 weeks, I visit a towering, four-story, historic, white barn and stroll among the bins selecting brilliant flowers to display at the dining table where I can feast my eyes. Belles of Ireland. Lisianthus. Purple Coneflower. Teddy Bear Sunflower. The flower share follows in the vein of a Community Supported Agriculture (CSA) share--a direct marketing practice--where you buy a share of weekly produce. In my town you can also get seasonal shares of lamb, beef, pork, and chicken, all of which spillover into our pastures from a neighboring farm at times.

This summer, a new flower phenomenon has evolved. The day after the flowers arrive, I've discovered that they have migrated. Small hands rearrange them elsewhere or replant them. Sometimes, I'll find most of them replanted under the birch tree, or tucked into the perennials, or keeping the lettuce seedlings company (see below). Sometimes they've been painted new hues. Recently, they have transitioned into still life in muffin tins, perhaps because we had a tea party for the dolls and made petal upside down cakes with grass and earth.



I've been searching for words to describe this phenomenon. Petal revolution? It's surely four-year-old performance art, with a constant succession of images. Altered states of still life? Except these still lifes readily migrate to other venues. I have not guided these creations, and I've been influenced by their wonderful and unexpected manifestations. I guess I'll just be content in knowing that bouquet deconstruction is creating a new beauty paradigm in my own backyard.