In these days of fake news, I wonder whether pranks will be played in The White House. There have been some interesting April Fools’ jokes in the newspapers and on television throughout modern history. In 2017, the Irish Times reported that Dublin was getting its very own ‘Trump Tower’, when it revealed that ‘Trump Dublin’ […]
Tag: Haibun Monday
The Solitude of Green
It is never lonely in our garden; there is no despair or desolation, just the solitude of green. Even in winter, I am embraced by green: the bending of the grass to my feet; the fresh shoots of snowdrop and daffodil braving the frost and ice; the murmuring of branch and leaf although, at this […]
Lonely Magpie
On a never-ending January day, the whole garden drips with silent grief. There are a few sparse, dried-up leaves clinging desperately to the willow, now pollarded and looking sorry for itself. No birds alight on its branches, not even the magpie, which has taken to haunting the silver birch right at the end near the […]
Waiting
I am waiting for the rain to stop. When it does, I will pull on wellies, shrug on a well-worn waterproof jacket and wrap a woollen scarf around my neck, ready for a walk in the woods. Raindrops trickle down the window pane in a race against time. I am waiting for the rain to […]
Changes
I remember how hard it was when I discovered I was pregnant and experienced so many changes that I wasn’t expecting. When I gave birth, then took my baby home and had to look after her on my own for the first time; I was scared I’d get it wrong and terrified I we wouldn’t […]
October Apples
Some of the windfalls have been collected and piled on a plastic garden chair. There are no signs of wild-life bites or nibbles, and only one green apple among them. They blush with October colours and scent. Among them, one is more than half russet, almost bronze, a bruised rogue among the beauties. It must […]
Morning
Since I retired and as I get older, I find I need less sleep. I frequently wake around three, four or five o’clock, unable to return to the dark cocoon that enveloped me so cosily when I was younger. When the cats chirrup from the bedroom door, I no longer turn over and burrow back […]
