nichepoetryandprose

poetry and prose about place

a moment of beautiful – November leaves

with 8 comments

the space: the November sky

the beautiful: oak leaves, not yet fallen

The oak is one of the last trees to give up its leaves in autumn.

I love the look of oak leaves against the sky.  Individually, their deeply lobed pattern is striking.  As a group, the leaves make a kind of randomly tatted lace.

These leaves are a frail, ineffective barrier to rain and snow, but to me, they are a statement of defiance against the coming winter.

~

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password

~

my palm

and its splayed fingers

against the glass

defy the cold

demand the secret word

~

the way the oaks construct

tattered shelters against

November chill, cling to

their leaves, whisper

misinformation

~

~

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

November 12, 2012 at 7:34 am

tough to follow

with 6 comments

In high school, in Nova Scotia, I belonged to a history club.  We did an interesting project in about 1971, tracing the route of an old stagecoach trail through the woods between Lower Sackville and Fall River.  We were able to follow the road since it had been raised above wet ground.  We also found old culverts still intact.  One of the things we made was a relief map of the area, with the hills built up in plaster and the old road marked in red.  The project created, for me, a lifelong interest in old roads.

old trail obscured by a Bracken understory

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tough to follow

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the old road at the edge

of the hill is tough to follow

no clues, no footprints, no bent twigs

~

eventually all familiar ways

grow over

~

a layer of bracken

covers the track

like a cloth over biscuits

at the dinner table

~

primo-canes of bramble

claw you back

your mother reminding you

to wear your sweater

~

better to look up

follow  the ribbon of sky

marked by the absence of branches

~

~

Published as ‘tough to follow’, Canadian Stories 15 (85), June 2012

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

November 9, 2012 at 7:00 am

‘cold’ place names in New Brunswick

with 2 comments

Yesterday morning we woke to a dusting of snow on the roof of the garage and deck table.  I am not too crazy about the perils of driving in bad weather, but I love the look of new snow.

cold day in December 2011

Thinking about new snow reminded me about the several communities in New Brunswick named for adverse or chilly conditions:

Snowdon, York County – perhaps after the family name.

Coldbrook, Saint John County (now part of Saint John) – originally thought to have been called Moosepath, then Three Mile House … renamed Coldbrook in 1889, reason unknown.

Coldstream, Carleton County – first called Rockland, was renamed Coldstream in 1852.

Blowdown, Carleton County – originally called South Richmond, the community was renamed in 1869, after a significant leveling of forest as a result of the Saxby Gale (October 4-5, 1869).

Frosty Hollow, Westmorland County (now part of Sackville)– originally called Mapleburg, the community was renamed in 1927 because the first frost in the Sackville area is said to settle there.

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For information on other community names in New Brunswick, you can use the search feature at the Provincial Archives of New Brunswick  http://archives.gnb.ca/exhibits/communities/.

new snow on car roof

~

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newfall: words escape me

~

the white ephemeral

perhaps frost

the fir boughs divided

the sculptured steel

of a flake of snow

~

try again

~

paper stencil

on  chocolate cake

powdered sugar

sifted on the rills

of the new plowed field

~

again

~

sweet in my mouth

the bitter melted in morning sun

white hot on my cheek

the writing lamp

~

a lamp to the left

casts no shadow

(the shadow of a pen

or a hand)

~ 

(unless you are wrong-handed)

~

chimney shadow

on a fresh-snowed roof

or trees on the eastern edge of the road

where the sun cannot warm

~

the morning

dusting of ice

~

try again

~

~

Published as: ‘newfall: words escape me’,  The Fiddlehead 196: 147, Summer 1998.

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

November 7, 2012 at 7:30 am

gathering eggs

with 6 comments

When we visited my grandfather’s farm in the 1960s, boredom was never a problem.  Every day brought a new discovery or learning.  One of the best activities was to help in the gathering of eggs.

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gathering eggs

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first breath after rooster presses

crowbar under sun catches

dew in the three-angled strawberry leaves

and light pings sapphire,

red, amber, emerald to opening eyes

I see Dandy waiting

black and white counterpoint to rainbow

~

he greets me, ignores

the chickens scratching

along random lines, we trek

to the barn together

push the man-door, open the pen

~

Diane has promised a gather

of eggs, shows me how

to shoo the hen, part the straw,

roll the egg into my hand,

build the stack in the basket

set each in a three-angled

cradle of eggs

~

Dandy watches the rooster

red comb and wattles,

amber neck, iridescent tail

ignores white eggs and chickens

~

~

Previously published as ‘gathering eggs’, Canadian Stories 15 (84), April 2012

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

November 5, 2012 at 7:26 am

abandoned bridge – South Nation River

with 2 comments

In south-east Ontario, the South Nation River winds through farmland…

Driving along the river in October of 2012, we found an old metal bridge, closed to traffic.  Although left to rust, this bridge was beautiful in its simple construction.  The deck of the bridge was rotted, but wildflowers had taken hold in the debris.

According to the South Nation River link at  http://www.nation.on.ca/en/geocaching/ (South Nation Conservation), the bridge has now been removed.

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abandoned bridge, South Nation River

~

years since I crossed the metal bridge –

we take the long way now,

over that engineered, concrete

contrivance, upstream

~

the old bridge CLOSED, of course

trusses red with rust, corroded

pitted as the river bank

and its swallow-burrows

~

once we walked those girders

leaned from the railings

amused ourselves by pitching rocks down

into the duckweed

~

wouldn’t be safe today, the deck

rotted where hawkweeds bloom

all summer, cheerful

you’d think they’d been planted

~

~

Published as ‘abandoned bridge, South Nation River’, Canadian Stories 15 (85), June 2012.

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

November 2, 2012 at 10:00 am

eerie evening

with 11 comments

~

~

Fears

~

I saw a light in the woods tonight

low, through the tangled branches of spruce

and the crowded stems of fir

~

white in the dark –

a gleam where only night should stir

like the lamp of a stranger, lost

~

but the glow was steady and still

and in less than the catch of a breath I knew

all I saw was the rising moon

beyond the hill

~

I heard a cry in the woods tonight

soft and low through the tangle of spruce

and the thicket of fir

~

a moan in the dark

a sob where only the wind should stir

like the frightened tears of a child

alone

~

but the cries held no human word

and in less than the catch of a breath I knew

the wail of a wildcat on the prowl

was all I heard

~

~

Copyright  Jane Tims  1990

Written by jane tims

October 31, 2012 at 7:29 am

Happy Halloween

with 12 comments

In Canada, October is a month for celebration.  We have our Thanksgiving in mid-October, and, on the 31st, Halloween.

I have a few Halloween-themed post cards.  I display these over our fireplace, on a string, attached by clothespins.  They make a festive banner to complement the orange pumpkins and other decorations.

Halloween symbols are spooky…

but some witches are not so terrifying….

and the light of a Jack-o-lantern helps make the paths less eerie…

Happy Halloween!!!!

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

October 29, 2012 at 9:01 pm

log cabins and humble beginnings

with 12 comments

In a recent post (October 17, 2012), I wrote about my shoemaker great-great-grandfather, Josiah Hawk, and his daughter, my great-grandmother, Ella Hawk.

schoolhouse in Upper Canada Village, Ontario

When I was in Upper Canada Village in Ontario in September, I saw many houses and a way of life that reminded me of  Ella’s family history.

Ella’s story begins before she was born, with the Hawk and Kresge families of Monroe County, Pennsylvania.  I know a lot about these families, since both families have relatively complete genealogies.

Both the Kresges and Hawks were part of a large community of German immigrants who lived in the vicinity of Gilbert, Monroe County, from the late 1700s onward.  In 2004, my husband, son and I visited the area and I went to church in the community.  The congregation welcomed me warmly and I was told many of the people in the church shared my ancestry!

pioneer home in Upper Canada Village, Ontario

The Census of 1790 lists both of Ella’s great-grandfathers, Coonrod Crase (Conrad Kresge) and Conrad Hawke.  Conrad Kresge had a son Johannes whose daughter Sarah Ann, was Ella’s mother.  Conrad Hawke had a son Michael Hawk, whose son Josiah (the shoemaker) was Ella’s father.

The Kresges and Hawks were true pioneers and life for them was difficult.  In about 1777, while clearing land, Conrad Kresge lost one of his sons at the hands of a band of Native Americans, who carried out raids on the community.   This story is depicted in a memorial to Conrad Kresge in the Gilbert cemetary.

Memorial in Gilbert cemetary, depicting story of Conrad Kresge clearing land, and his son who was killed by an arrow

Although no other stories have survived the years, I have been able to learn quite a bit about these people from the genealogies.  For example, I can piece together something of my great-great-great grandfather Michael Hawk’s life in Middle Creek, Pennsylvania.  For example, for the year 1807, when he was 13 years old, he was the youngest of nine children.  Of his five brothers and three sisters, only his older brothers John (19 years old) and Peter (16) remained at home.  Siblings Nicholas (25) and Suzanna (23) had been married the year before, and on October 29, 1807, Suzanna gave birth to a set of twins, no doubt an exciting family event.  His much older brother John George (37), living in the community of Effort, and his sister Anne Margaret (33), in Chestnut Hill, must have seemed a generation away, since  John George’s daughter Elizabeth, Michael’s niece, was only four years his junior.

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Michael, alone

(Middle Creek, 1807)

~

November has worked its way

into the wood pile, I use Papa’s axe

to split kindling, I blow rings into

the cold air, everyone is away, gone to

Chestnut Hill to see

Suzanna’s twins

~

everyone leaves –

they become like strangers

Catherine, run off to Seneca Lakes,

Nicholas married last year,

John and Peter, itching to go

~

Mama calls me her baby

well, I’m the same age as the Kresge boy,

killed by an arrow thirty years ago –

but that’s an old story

~

I look across the cornfield

to the oak woods where leaves still cling,

they glow like copper

noone lurks there now

~

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

gravestone reads: Michael Hawk – was born Feb 8th 1794 – died April 20 1846 – Aged 52 years 2 months 12 day

Written by jane tims

October 26, 2012 at 10:00 am

windy October drive

with 9 comments

On Monday, I went on a drive to Cambridge Narrows, to visit an antique store and a roadside market.  My goal: to buy some Nancy Drew mystery books for my collection and some pumpkins for Halloween.

It was a blustery day, windy enough to put some whitecaps on the St. John River…

The wind was especially evident along the former Trans-Canada Highway, where dry leaves have gathered in all the ditches.  Since only a few vehicles use this older highway, the leaves blow into the roadway…

The day had a luminous quality, in spite of the wind.  Most of the reds are gone from the trees, leaving the yellows of the poplars, the rusty-orange of the oaks and the gold of the tamaracks…

I had a successful day.  I bought some small pumpkins at a roadside stand…

three little pumpkins from the roadside vegetable stand (the faint eyes in the background are the amber eyes of our owl-andirons)

I also added five books to my collection of Nancy Drew mysteries…

five new mysteries for my collection… enough ghosts and glowing eyes for a spooky Halloween

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~

andiron

~

wrought owl with amber eyes

perches on the hearth

hears a call in the forest

six syllables and silence

~

Great-horned Owl, light gathered

at the back of his eyes,

and the oscillating branch

after wings expand and beat

~

iron owl longs for a glimpse

of the sickle moon

the shadow of a mouse

sorting through dry leaves

~

in this cramped space

night woods are brought to their essence

fibre and bark, sparks and fire

luminous eyes

~

~

Copyright  Jane Tims 2012

covering the pumpkins

with 6 comments

This year our garden was an unqualified failure.  Between the slugs and the shade, none of my poor pumpkin vines made it to the orange pumpkin stage.  But in the past, we have had worthy pumpkin patches.  One year our pumpkins were so prolific, one of the vines even strayed upward, into a maple tree.  In October, we had an orange pumpkin in the tree, about four feet above the ground.

my son with pumpkins from our garden, about 22 years ago

This year, my pumpkin sightings have been in other people’s gardens and in the bins at the grocery store.  At least I am spared the desperate efforts of the past, to squeeze one more day of growing from the season, by covering the pumpkins before the frost.

a prolific pumpkin patch, photographed during our visit to Ontario in 2011

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covering the pumpkins

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on the mattress, these sheets

are ample, enough for warmth

and twist and tumble

~

spread here, on low-lying ground

they barely cover one of twenty

pumpkins, one loop of vine

~

weather channel warns of frost

will wilt these leaves, cold-kiss

this perfect orange with brown

~

vines stretch, toes creep

from under, beg more time

~

~

Copyright  Jane Tims  2012

Written by jane tims

October 22, 2012 at 7:18 am