poetry and prose about place


with 5 comments

When I was little, I lived in Alberta, in a house built by my father and mother. At the back of the house was a veranda. Below the veranda was a big vegetable garden, full of corn and pumpkins and mint. At the end of the garden, was a power pole, used by my mother as a clothes pole.


Scan_20180830 (4)

my mom and I in the garden … the clothes pole is in the far left of the photo, at the end of the garden


On laundry day, my mother hung the wet clothing on a line stretching between the house and the pole. As she hung the laundry, I would play at the end of the garden, under my mother’s watchful eye.


But I was not where she supposed me to be. Instead, I was off on some imaginary adventure. One place I would go —  into the cave beneath the rocks around the base of the clothes pole. In my imagination, the cave led to a tunnel, running under the garden and weaving between roots of pumpkin and mint. I don’t remember what I ‘saw’ in the world I entered or any of the adventures I must have had. Imagination can take you anywhere!


laundry day


mint splashes, fresh

against the wall


her mother pins

clothes to the line


shirts dance towards

pole at the end

of the garden,

a pole covered

in pumpkin vine


where a small girl

skips, turns her chin

towards blue sky


where rainbow begins

and ends,

on the green hill,

entry to cave,

hidden from sun


and the girl skips

slower, slower


follows tunnel

under garden

between tendrils

of ripe pumpkin

and root of mint


and above earth,

her mother pins

clothes to the line



Scan_20180830 (3).jpg


All my best,


Written by jane tims

September 10, 2018 at 2:30 pm

5 Responses

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  1. I love this!
    It is a wonderful story and poem, and your drawing makes me happy.

    Liked by 1 person


    October 14, 2018 at 10:21 am

  2. I could smell the clean clothes and the pungent earth… and you know that’s quite a feat for me. Magical …

    Liked by 1 person


    September 14, 2018 at 1:30 pm

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