I have a little cricket
With a real sad tale to tell.
He wanted to play his fiddle
And he wanted to play it well.
Sadder was the story
Of why I called him Peg.
He limped around my kitchen
As he was missing one back leg.
Everybody knows it.
Their music is real work.
They rub hind legs together
To get that cricket chirp.
I looked on with amazement
Peg was not so slow
He picked a broom straw
From the floor
And rosined up his bow.
September 15, 2018
(P.S. part of this poem is true)
Edgar and Rita said so long till spring. I think Edgar won enough to keep them for the winter! Marjorie said so long too. Our summer folk are leaving us again and didn’t the season all of a sudden seem short. Heard a rumour that Garden Shed may open again next year. Wouldn’t that be great! Lori pulled my name at Bingo for the 50/50. So, I brought home as much as I spent, so that’s a good night!
I do have my lucky days! I was sitting (guess where) thinking about Sis Susan when she came through the door with a miniature rose in my favourite peach shade. Fell asleep before bingo and missed the start of the rainfall so my blanket is still on the line. Might it be there till spring?
Skylar told me she is a real cowgirl now. She got bucked off a horse at Kicking Mule, Pebbles showed her the pebbles.
Coyotes raising a ruckus tonight!
I am forever getting gifts! I know by the sound of her voice in the night. I almost had to get a magnifying glass to see the mouse. Bubs is the gift giver.
I’m on a run too. This morning my nephew Peter from Breslau dropped in. He had been on the Island a week? He brought me a nice feed of fish -plus- it was so good to see him, Already on his way home via the ferry, ahead of the promised storm (hopefully).
I though my daughter was trying to avoid me. She called this morning from her work to tell me her phone has been out for days. But when I drove down on Saturday night to visit they were out also. I had just come from Carol’s and Earl’s, the Lakeshore Road way. They were heading in on the highway. Tuesday morning, off to Mindemoya to do laundry, a backup! I was late, anyway, so home to the Triangle Club meeting election of officers. A couple of changes, thanks. Back to Mindemoya later, got the job done, had supper at Grill and Chill. Had my brekky at Mom’s restaurant in the morning and had a visit with a nice gentleman.
Peter told me he had the nicest visit with Dave McCauley and Tom Balfe. They brought up a lot of memories of a few years back when my brother was alive and there were always stories! Laughs and jokes!
Rod Pyette was visiting his parents Gib and Florence and so was a welcome extra at cribbage today and Pat Burd was a first timer with us. Always like folks to join us, seven tables and some most delicious lunch bites. Thank you for all the help I have cleaning up after our break. Appreciated you all so much. High hand today Gord, 21; tied for first place with 932 was Betty Jean and Bill and Brad and Dorothy. Mary J and I were third with 926. We met up with Ken and Ted four times. Close games and ended beating them by two points; low, Hugh and Donna, 857; door prizes, Dorothy A, Doris and Mary J. We all sang happy birthday to Sheila. What a stormy rainy day.
Ken and Peggy Pyette, wow. I read today you got a double whammy, both losing your mothers at the same time. Thinking of you at this time. Sorry I couldn’t go to the funeral for Muriel.
We lost one of our beautiful young cardinals this week. His breast was turning a brilliant orange. A bad omen? Mom always claimed a bird hitting the window was! I don’t know how many times this past week I’ve gone out to check on them. I’ve never seen so many birds around.
I hadn’t seen Steven Ahlborn for quite some time and see when I talked to him at Ward’s Store on Thursday afternoon, he has been having some health issues. I’m sure it was his brother who was with him. They had just come from Wiky Nursing Home, had been there to wish his Mum a happy birthday, October 4.
Regular euchre, 5 ¾ tables: men’s high, Yves, 84 and six lone hands; men’s low, Graham, 51; ladies’ high, Liz, 79; ladies’ lone hands, Dorothy, 4; ladies’ low, Linda, 47; door, Simon again.
Who told me about bears?
A good day
My face in the mirror
Is not wrinkled or drawn
My house isn’t dirty
Its cobwebs are gone
My garden looks lovely
And so does the lawn
I think I may never
Put my glasses back on.
Years ago I received this little poem just to cheer me up, perhaps it will make your day. I received it from Nellie Thomas.