Homage to Robert Frost

Two hiking trails diverged in a summer wood,

both color-coded.

The one labeled green was one mile long of
gentle terrain

The one labeled red was three miles long of
rough terrain.

I took the green, more traveled trail

Because it allowed a continual view
of the parking lot

And that sense of security

made all the difference.

I bought three purple pansy plants and
planted them in a large pot outdoors.

Then I forgot to water them.

Three days later, I noticed how droopy
they looked.
I watered them and repeatedly checked on
their condition.
Fortunately, they revived.

“How could you be so remiss?” the pansy
flower-faces rebuked.
“We were better off at the grocery store!” they
pouted.

I meant to water them.
Truly.
I persuaded myself on the day I
bought them that it “looked like rain.”
But who was I kidding?
It didn’t rain.

Pansies look cute and adorable, but it’s
only a cover.
They’re actually fiendish, like gangsters.
They’re unforgiving, unrelenting, and spiteful, too.

Every so often, one of my pansies droops and
acts sullen—just to get back at me.

One would think they could overlook a
little neglect—turn their pansy cheek—but
no, not pansies, they never let go …
never.

Tell me where it hurts, and, if appropriate,
I’ll give a kiss to make it well.

I’ll also bring you flowers and put them in
a vase

If flowers aren’t available,
I’ll bring you a pretty rock and write your
name on it.

If I can’t find flowers or a pretty rock,
I’ll draw a picture of flowers next to a
pretty rock with your name on it.

Just tell me where it hurts and I’ll make
you a cup of tea with some honey in it.

Or I’ll brew you a cup of strong coffee
and we’ll sit and talk

Or maybe we won’t talk…
and I’ll just keep you company—for as
long as you like.

And you’ll tell me where it hurts.

In late June, when my stone birdbath developed a
deep crack, I recycled it into a fairy garden.

I filled it with dirt, a miniature ceramic cottage,
small-scale plants, moss for grass, and tiny gravel
for a stone path.

By July, the garden had two fairy occupants: Letitia
and Etheline.

The roommates appeared to settle in well.

They added a trellis with climbing vines, a pink flower
border along the stone path, and a welcome mat at the
door.

But in early August, grievances and discord took
root.
Letitia wanted the cottage pantry stocked with only
organic food items.
Etheline preferred a vast assortment of snacks and
munchies for her weekend party guests.

Letitia liked traditional décor: chintzes, an heirloom
rug, a rocking chair, and coordinated placemats.
Etheline preferred a contemporary setting: bright
colors, modern art, and a lot of gold and silver accents.

When Letitia found empty bottles of mead, an ancient
honey wine, she reminded Etheline that drinking was
against the rules.

Etheline scoffed and cursed her in dirty fairy words.

Then a terrible rainstorm struck the fairy garden
causing widespread destruction.

Etheline found alternative lodging with an elf.

But Letitia stayed and opted to restore the little
cottage and grounds.
She reinforced the dwelling, added tall shrubs,
and a mini-herb vegetable garden.

In September, Etheline returned for a visit. She
marveled at the reconstructed garden and all the
upgrades to the property.

She pleaded for a return to their former living
arrangement.

“I’m tired of flitting from elf to elf,” she confided.
“I promise to control my drinking and cut out the
partying.
Give me another chance, please?”

Letitia briefly considered Etheline’s request.
By then, she realized she liked her solitary, quiet
life in the fairy garden.
She had proved she could handle whatever came
her way.

She presented Etheline with a farewell basket of
herbs, sweet peas, and baby carrots from her
garden.

In exchange, Etheline gave her a bottle of mead,
which she just happened to have with her.

The thought of eating a pansy makes me shudder.
I do not like my food to have a face,
And pansies have beguiling faces

As for strawberry-rhubarb pie, my husband’s
favorite,
Those deep pinks and fleshy, rhubarb reds bear a
striking resemblance to what you see in graphic surgical
procedures not suitable for sensitive viewers.

On the other hand, I do love eating a roasted artichoke,
especially with a variety of sauces such as hollandaise,
aioli, butter.
I also like an artichoke because it is a thistle.
“I am eating a thistle.” I repeat many times with
the emphasis on thistle.
If you eat an artichoke, you must tell everyone in
earshot that you are eating a thistle.
That is part of the joy of eating an artichoke–
besides the sauces.

A mention needs to be made regarding domes
over a dish.
Take a melange of leftovers, place a silver dome over
it, raise it with a flourish, and voila!
Royal leftovers.
The dome doesn’t even have to be silver.
Aluminum or plastic work just as well.
But don’t leave out the flourish.

He would have had excellent grades in school and
all his teachers would have commented about how well
he got along with others.

All the girls would have had crushes on him because
he was so handsome. (“Oh, he has such big, beautiful
eyes!” they’d say.) But he wouldn’t have been full
of himself about it.

He’d have to work at keeping his weight down
because he’s a food lover.

He’d go for spa treatments and massages.

Everyone would say his best qualities were
loyalty, patience, and compassion.
They’d note his negative ones were whining,
snoring, and a distrust of strangers.

He’d go on frequent rides in a convertible
with the top down.

He wouldn’t leave your side if you were sick
or sad, and he’d probably choose a career in the health
care field.

He’d be the life of a party because he likes
to dance, especially spin and twirl.

His sense of humor would be on the dry side. People would say they don’t get his jokes.

He’d be an Anglophile and boast
that he could trace his ancestors back to
King Charles 11.

I am vintage now, mid-century-modern vintage.
Worn at the edges but intact
Evocative—full of memories and associations
Imperfect, flawed—qualities which have
increased my value.
Historically nuanced
A hand-me-down, gently used
One-of-a-kind, quirky, unique
Renewed, refurbished and updated
Of established provenance
Older than most people estimate
Stylish but durable
Inimitable
Made in the USA
The genuine thing
Hopefully, cherished.

I was a volunteer.
She was a terminally ill resident.
To confuse and elude Death,
she always wore a colorful silk shirt
and slacks under the covers in bed.

Death does not come to those in turquoise or hot pink
street clothes, she reasoned.
To augment the ruse, she surrounded herself with issues
of Vogue magazine.
Because Death does not come to those barricaded by High
Fashion, she believed.

An empty soup bowl was placed in front of me.
I peered at the floral pattern in the center:
a purple iris, and a crimson rose against
gold-rimmed white porcelain.

I looked up.
A tall waiter ladled soup into the bowl
submerging the flowers.

Like an unbidden song, that scene gets replayed.

The flowers in the bowl.
The lifting of the ladle
The gentle splash in the bowl
The submersion of the flowers.

What kind of soup?
How did it taste?
Apparently, not relevant.

Just the flowers in the bowl
The lifting of the ladle
The gentle splash in the bowl
The submersion of the flowers.

At a Florida zoo in a simulated native habitat,
I gazed at a giant anteater.

Gaped is more precise, gawked is even better.

It was about seven feet from its long narrow snout
(like a vacuum cleaner attachment)
to the tip of its lavish tail.

“How ill-proportioned and preposterous!” I thought.
But then, a realization: the animal was the epitome
of superb design!
From its tiny elongated head, to its oversized body,
form followed function–
enabling the species to survive for 25 million years.

Interesting Facts:

Giant Anteaters consume 35,000 ants and termites a day
Their tongues are two feet long
They haven’t any teeth
They carry their babies on their backs
They can mate all year round
They prudently leave a portion of an insect’s nest for replenishment
They are able to fight off jaguars

Standout Physical Features:
The giant anteater has a voluminous bushy tail.
Black accents and wide diagonal stripes mark its body.

Noteworthy:
Salvador Dali, the surrealist artist, once strolled in Paris
with a giant anteater on a leash.
Besides capitalizing on the animal’s shock value,
I like to believe Dali appreciated the creature’s unique beauty.