•March 24, 2013 • 3 Comments
•March 17, 2013 • 2 Comments
She didn’t set out to live her life
on a farm ( a farmer’s wife)
It’s just what happened, how it went down
A life spent planting , seeds in the ground.
At first her “City” self said no
She didn’t want to reap and sow.
She hated the smells and the hours it took
Seeing life on a farm as work,work,work.
It took her awhile but she came to see
She was right where she wanted to be..
From fresh eggs to gardens she loved them all
The new baby cows and the harvest in fall.
Somehow she grew into her life
Happy to be a Farmers Wife…
top Photo by Cheryl. Poem by connetta
•February 28, 2013 • Leave a Comment
I used to think it such a waste of space
Grandmas yellow Moss all over the place..
Up her walk and around her back door..
Her little space could hold much more.
she always planted them near a drain
Like she was beating them at their own game..
cause trust me the seeds they pop and sprout
(best to plant them near a old drain spout…)
Today i got a different vew of this thing
growing up Mary like a breath of spring…
It caught me by suprise..ya know?
like a answer to questions long ago…