Little Painty Spider

Little Painty Spider.
Your Mum and sibling
To the white expanse
With its artexed craters
And valleys, to hide.
You though
Didn’t realise the
Roller was coming your
Way…nor did I. Then.
Too late.
Nevermind. You are now
Truly part of the
As your kind have long
Hoped for.
Gone but not forgotten.

Little Painty Spider


Elysium Illuminated

Bursting with
Abandon yourself
To nature
In this
Elysium orchard,
In these meadows
Sweet with nectar.
What enticement
To stop a while
And feast on such riches
For the body,
For the soul.
The heart stays here
While, reluctantly,
Time must beat
Ever onwards.
Spotted white butterfly


Taking cover

I move the solar rocks to mow the grass underneath and suddenly the world below springs into action; hundreds of ants work to move the next generation to a place of safety – their bunker underground. Seemingly herculean strength moves the gargantuan babies out of harm’s way. I sit down on the grass and watch their efforts and, yes, I feel a little remorse. Soon all are relocated and I get up and carry on with the lawn.
Pickfords ant style

Grubby Tales

The lesser-spotted green broccoli grub

once made its untimely appearance

on the dinner table…on the dinner plate

of my non-vegetarian daughter

(just as well it didn’t choose to reveal

itself on my plate I can tell you!)

for some reason she was put off her roast beef.

Since that time I have much preferred to wear

my reading glasses to see exactly

what I am eating – before I eat it.

Lunching with the girls today it did cross

my mind that I should put my glasses on

to see…but then again they didn’t have

me preparing their vegetables did they?

Little Miss Muffet in Reverse

Little spindly spider

seeks refuge on

unoccupied end of bed.

Shocked into immobility

by manic shriek from

other inhabitant –

rescued by tumbler and card.

Soon seeking new bedfellow…

outside the back door.


Nine bees gather on lavender flowers.

Nature calls Chez Moi

Today I seem to be operating a tea garden. First I invite my lovely next door neighbour round. We sit in the garden as my house is still in disarray from the decorating (an excuse, my house is always a mess). Last time she sat in my garden she went home worse for wear from over-indulging in Pimms – I had to escort her home, not easy as neither of us could walk straight. This time she sticks to PG Tips and we avoid looking too much like the chimpanzees of the tea advertisments.
As I wave her off, a distant family member passes by. I invite her in for tea (feeling of déjà vu here). The house is a biscuit and cake free zone today , I apologise and usher her through to the garden hoping that she won’t look left or right on the way. Who am I kidding? The hallway is so choc-a-block that even negotiating that short direct route is fraught with difficulty. Unfortunately she is desperate for the toilet and charges in as I attempt to guide her out of the back door. She is already in situ as I move the washing bag out of the doorway.
Calls of nature taken care of, we sit in the sun and talk about this and that – our conversation flitting like the butterflies and bees that hover around us. A tortoiseshell lands on the grass beside me and seems to be listening as though warning me that I should keep off certain sensitive subjects. She swats nervously at a bee that flies past towards a buttercup beside her and I say instinctively “it won’t hurt you, it is just looking for nectar.” But aren’t we all, in one form or another, looking for a little sweetness to brighten and sustain our life? A job, a romance, a hobby, a social life… are we so very different? I don’t think so.

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