Monday May 23rd, 2011

The exercise:

Today we write about: the bull.

We planted precisely two hojillion tomato plants in the garden today, and yet there are still some left to go in the dirt.

It was quite the nature-filled day. Aside from the story below, we also had a bird fly into the house through the open side door. After hovering for a moment while we stared at each other in surprise, it decided to try flying out the kitchen window. Which was shut.

It took a little coaxing to get it back out the door, but at least it went. I do like birds, but I prefer them in their natural environment.


So the good times are officially over out in the garden. No more afternoons out there; it's hot enough that we're back to mornings and evenings only. In case we couldn't figure it out on our own, we got a little help today.

We spotted our first snake of the year shortly after lunch.

And it happened to be a bull snake. I'm not including a link because I don't want to look at it again. Suffice to say that it is a snake that is, generally speaking, unnecessarily long and, this one specifically, far too friendly. I don't know if it just didn't realize I was standing there, and I don't care. It got too close before deciding to head off in another direction.

Shortly after that I found what he must have been looking for: a pocket gopher in the process of digging out a hole. Link included because those things are adorable.

And, unfortunately, rather destructive. So we left nature to run its course.

Meanwhile, I took comfort in knowing that little guy had a whole lot more to fear from that bull than I ever will. It's small solace, but I'll take what I can get.


BA Boucher said...

There are few things I actually know for sure. At this age you should probably be more certain, but alas, mysteries abound.

One thing I know is that a bull is colorblind. They don’t hate the color red. I am missing most of my thigh muscle in my left leg, that was careful dressed in a drab black when I learned the errors of my ways.

Another thing I know is that the love of a woman will be the greatest happiness and sadness you can know. And you will love and cherish those emotions.

The last thing I know for sure, is that there was a tiny ship that for a time was orbiting the earth. It spun madly around the world, faster and faster until it lost its trajectory and burned up in the atomsphere. It was a glorious meteor of metal and passenger.

Inside the ship was a dead dog.

Greg said...

Blogger's been refusing to let me post, but let's have one more try!

I actually quite like snakes, no matter their size (I have a mate who used to keep them, though he also threatened to turn them into slippers now and then), so I'd have enjoyed the link. And if it's keeping your garden free of pests it should have a name, just like Sir Philip!
I'm sure it's barely more than a month that you were writing about still having frosts in the morning, and it's now too hot to work outside in the afternoons! Canada never ceases to amaze me....
And birds are definitely better in their natural habitat. Even the ones that don't fly all that much.

The bull
Europa's father, a Phoenecian King,
Had herds of cattle wandering,
Around his mighty, grand estates.
Europa went with all her mates,
Flower-picking, cows a-patting,
All the while, idly chatting;
Until they chanced on one white bull,
Who seemed tame and affable.
Europa stroked his mighty flank,
While the bull quite calmly drank,
And so, emboldened, she clambered on,
And rode the bull like Amazon.
But lo! The bull did run away,
Europa's face went pale and grey.
When they reached the sea she thought,
The bull must stop and at last be caught.
But the bull swam out, far out of reach,
Until it came to a Cretan beach,
Where Europa came to understand
That Zeus had brought her to this land.

Marc said...

Boucher - is that second paragraph non-fiction? If so... ouch.

If not... that was very convincing :)

Greg - yeah, Blogger wouldn't actually let me log out last night, so things seem to be getting screwy again. Hopefully they get it sorted pretty quickly.

Also: I am not naming any friggin' snakes.

Love your mythologically based poems. This one had a lovely rhythm.