It was a very fine example of the splendid yarn-bombing that breaks out in our suburb of Grungewick East. Bear goes to the park most days to collect greenery for our pet rabbit Trevor. He arranges them in a big bouquet and formally presents them to the king of the courtyard. Trevor is Bear’s animal familiar just like witches and wizards have cats. Together they cast spells of loveliness in the little world we live in.
Bear and I have an unconventional relationship, which I’ll no doubt write more about in future posts. It is based on lots of love and companionship. I wrote him a haiku yesterday:
bear’s in the kitchen
making sweet, sweet love to me
pink and white coconut ice
It follows the short line, long line, short line rule and captures what was for me a moment of transcendence but breaks other rules. Bear shows his love by cooking for me. In fact I am becoming a bit renowned as a self-declared post-domestic woman. I haven’t cooked a meal or barely lifted a finger around the house since November 2009.
I am loving writing haiku after coming across Writing and Enjoying Haiku by Jane Reichold. Her book outlines the western approach to the ancient Japanese art. The haiku should be about nature and convey a season. It has two parts: a fragment and a phrase. The first and second sentence make sense on their own as does the first and third. They are written in the present and can tell a wider truth. I wrote another one recently after Bear pointed out a wonder in our own backyard:
bird shit
tiny sunflower blooms
in the gutter
One of the aspects of the goddesses that are emergent in me post menopause is the ability to really stop and smell the roses. Bear is so present to the natural world and its beauty that he makes me feel I am living in a rose covered cottage in a rose filled garden.
Savour the moment xx
