Backyard Brief: Unearthed, Part 1

As the air warms and my dog waxes bold and curious in his wanderings on our property, he leads me to discover things I might never have imagined.

Two days ago, I went outside to check on him, tethered as usual to the deck, but I could see him nowhere, nor any trace of his tether.

As we so often do these days to prevent or get him out of trouble, I slipped on my clogs and grabbed the baggy of kibble in case I needed to coax him home. In the 10 months we’ve had him, Ethan has never run away, never broken his tether or even tried to.

Once, he managed to unlatch his collar, leaving it secured on the tether while he zoomed over to greet the neighbor’s dog. Another time, he became loose through the garage and sauntered back around to the same dog. Not to the road.

Now, though he enjoys sunbathing, Ethan seeks the cool shade as well, and has taken to digging, which I imagine feels luxuriously cool on his hot paw pads. (We’re getting his and my feet a kiddie pool for the summer.) So far, only minor patches, hardly even holes, have resulted—a couple of times in the grass and this latest in the flower bed bordering the deck.

Luckily, the effect was to loosen only a weed rather than a perennial just next to the divot. Cooling off his feet, having a fun dig, and, it would seem, creating just enough space to slip under the deck steps into the gap beside the wood lattice work.

When I found no tether and no Ethan, I called for him, thinking at first that he had rounded the corner of the house down the side yard. But the tether was still attached at the base of the deck, the rest of it tucked under toward the dog.

I crouched down to investigate and query the fur child, who promptly looked up with his dopey ears perked, though his body faced away from me. It appeared as if a little smudge of dirt, or something less benign, added to the outline of his nose. I could just see it in a shaft of light penetrating the cracks through the deck boards.

There are several spare boards lined up under the deck, and he had crossed many of them to reach this far. The tether was most of the way under and the dog most of the way to the other side, traveling the length of the shelter.

Our deck has an irregular shape, with five sides, not counting the house sides where a bay window juts out on one end and the kitchen sink area protrudes slightly less on the other.

In the bordering flower bed parallel to the back of the house, a limelight hydrangea bush decorates the right side, and a lacecap hydrangea marks the left, where the length of the deck meets a corner on each end.

A few feet farther right, down the length of the house than the limelight, I crouched by the deck steps the dog uses to do his business and get into mischief. Ethan stood almost all the way to the lacecap on the other end.

I had to reel him in by the tether, a vinyl-coated wire cable, which luckily gave way as it slid back across and around the ends of the unused boards.

Once he reached the exit, Ethan had to dip his torso down into that divot he had dug in order to squeeze out with an inch or two to spare. He’s a skinny dog, but this was still fairly impressive.

I’ve known various critters to live beneath our deck and around the yard, including chipmunks and rabbits. I’ve seen a gray vole in the front yard beds, plus a tunnel of soil something had dug in an irregular, meandering curved line through the brown.

We’ve enjoyed natural lawn aeration that we deduced either skunks or raccoons had accomplished, digging for grubs in that same area beside the bed nearest the steps.

In the open field near the neighborhood playground and jungle gym, we’ve encountered deer droppings and scattered feathers from birds striking the power lines above.

And once, while walking my former dog Elyse toward that same clearing that stretches across the street, as we approached the area, a car slowed beside us and two ladies told me there was a coyote up ahead, to be careful with the dog. That sent us in the opposite direction back home.

With these experiences, near-misses, and all the forensic evidence, we’re well aware that it’s best if the dog does not go under the deck for any reason. Plenty of claws, teeth, parasites, and diseases make suburbia a wild kingdom.

Then, of course, the nails on those deck boards pose injury risk, along with the uneven ground causing the boards to lie unevenly. It must become strictly off limits.

I figured it was certainly possible, if not probable, that Ethan had grabbed hold of some tender morsel of scat or remains or babies that maybe he shouldn’t have.

It was too dark, at mid-day, as I peered underneath, to see anything definitive without risking myself by going in or by walking around to the lacecap. There my access to the dog would be less but my view closer and clearer.

I did not want to waste time investigating. The dog had to come out now.

So then out he came, panting and pleased with himself for escaping the day’s heat, and I promptly shoved a large plant pot, filled with old, heavy soil from both winter and spring, into the corner to limit his access should he happen to try again, even while I watched. One never knows.

Then, I used a towel to scrape off the damp dirt caked to the underside of Ethan’s toenails. This took a little time; his nails had already needed trimming.

The next day, yesterday, I supervised more closely.

We clearly have training to do to keep Ethan out of the flower beds in the first place, out from under the deck, and away from chewing on my hydrangea branches, among other no-no’s.

Luckily, although he is a tough chewer and is becoming a digger, he rarely eats anything he enjoys chewing on that’s not designated edible for dogs. This sidesteps major hassles, dangers, and vet bills.

This time outside with Ethan, I was eating cereal topped with fresh-cut strawberries, a late breakfast by most standards at 11 a.m. At first seated in a deck chair, I decided to move after I noticed three yellow jackets starting to congregate in my vicinity.

What happened next led to a remarkable discovery. . . .

IMG_5519

Come back for Part 2 when all will be revealed, plus a little more.

Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (9): “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”

Happy Poem-in-Your-Pocket Day! From the Academy of American Poets’ list of 15 poems in the public domain designated for Poem-in-Your-Pocket Day – April 26, 2018 (p. 71), and already one of my long-adored poems, Irish poet W. B. Yeats provides this moment to bask in the glory of great verse from 130 years ago, during National Poetry Month and ever after.


The Lake Isle of Innisfree

by W. B. Yeats

I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,
And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made:
Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee;
And live alone in the bee-loud glade.

And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow,
Dropping from the veils of the morning to where the cricket sings;
There midnight’s all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow,
And evening full of the linnet’s wings.

I will arise and go now, for always night and day
I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore;
While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,
I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

1888

Note: The lake embracing Yeats’ longed-for island is Lough Gill, which straddles Counties Sligo and Leitrim, near the west coast of northwest Ireland. Innisfree, ironically now a well-known tourist spot thanks to Yeats, lies in County Sligo, along the lake’s south side.

My favorite stanza of the three: 1
My favorite line in the stanza: 4
My favorite phrase in line 4:

“bee-loud glade”

which I first shared in the post
Five-Phrase Friday (4): Grammar Compound

What’s in your pocket?

If you liked this poem, you may also enjoy:

Other posts in my series on famous poets’ nature poetry (FPNP):

  1. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (1): Sun Spots
  2. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (1a): “The Sunlight on the Garden”
  3. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (3): Wordsworth’s Daffodils
  4. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (5): Of Mice, Men and Rabbie Burns
  5. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (6): Hugh MacDiarmid in Scots
  6. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (6)–Oh, NOW I Get It!: Hugh MacDiarmid in Scots
  7. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (7): Black Legacies
  8. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (9): “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”

Cheshire Cat’s Message: An Original Poem

The following is a sample of my work during NaNoWriMo 2017 on a novel begun during Camp NaNoWriMo, July 2016. I originally shared the poem along with (1) my list of excuses for not having written much in fall 2017, (2) explanation and promotion of NaNoWriMo, (3) commentary on my novel-writing process, and (4) an excerpt, a scene from the same novel. These parts together comprise the post “Noveling in November.”

So here it is, from early November 2017, a fanciful rhyme belying, until the final stanza, the general unease of all in Looking-Glass Land under the White King’s regime.

To the Ray Harvesters from Cheshire Cat’s Pub

Let me sell you some sunshine
from the broad eastern plain
so you won’t have to reach so high up that tree
to catch the sun’s rays, blocked by dense
branches and lofty foliage from harvesting.

They have plenty of sun back east
where drought is too long creating
mirages in a soon-to-be-desert
and the drunkards stumble to the tavern’s threshold
only to find invisible smiling cats.

The sun is not useful there
where they block it with blinds
of thick wool and old wood planks
in the one building where infamy lives,
but barely, while liquor flows and cats nap.

The ground there is golden
with burnt grass and bright dirt, mocking
the yellow of sun beams wished
for growing green things, which you have
in abundance in your abundant shade.

Could we make a trade, perhaps,
a bargain of sorts? Rain for sun,
damp for dry, and a stoop of rum
or a sprig of thyme, for good measure
and good faith, or if you’d prefer,
some visions ground from your own toadstools?

It won’t be long now before you’ll
pale in the dearth of light on your western earth
and we’ll shrivel in the hot white searing
of sod and sand and roof on this edge of things.
We must take care of each other, or what are we?

© copyright C. L. Tangenberg

Somehow, I rattled that one off in about 25 minutes after drafting a scene that takes place at the Cheshire Cat’s pub, a place I invented. It probably helped that I came fresh from studying poetry and contemplating the craft of verse writing as part of my responses to a friend’s questionnaire for profiling me as an artist on her blog, in two parts: here and here. Thanks again, HL Gibson!

It also helps to be writing regularly, I must remember. The more often one practices. . . .

Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (8): “Corsons Inlet” by A. R. Ammons

It’s National Poetry Month. But beyond time, my recommendation stands.

Though it take all month, read one poem slowly, deeply, and again. Here’s a good candidate. A. R. Ammons embraces–and shows us how to embrace–through close attention born of brave openness: freedom, motion, disorder, uncertainty, change, beauty, nature, life. And shorebirds. Gotta have shorebirds.

“Corsons Inlet” by A. R. Ammons – An excerpt from the poem’s mid-section:

. . . 
risk is full: every living thing in
siege: the demand is life, to keep life: the small
white blacklegged egret, how beautiful, quietly stalks and spears
          the shallows, darts to shore
                   to stab—what? I couldn’t
   see against the black mudflats—a frightened
   fiddler crab?

          the news to my left over the dunes and
reeds and bayberry clumps was
          fall: thousands of tree swallows
          gathering for flight . . .

- from "Corsons Inlet" by A. R. Ammons 
Read the full poem on the Poetry Foundation website, 
quoted from The Selected Poems: Expanded Edition 
(W. W. Norton and Company Inc., 1986)

See also Norton's list of other titles by A. R. Ammons.

If you enjoyed this, you might also like:


Other posts in my series on famous nature poetry:

  1. Nature Poetry by Famous Poets excerpting Thomas Hardy’s “The Darkling Thrush”
  2. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (1): Sun Spots
  3. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (1a): “The Sunlight on the Garden”
  4. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (2): Elizabeth Bishop
  5. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (3): Wordsworth’s Daffodils
  6. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (4): Promise of a Fruitful Plath
  7. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (5): Of Mice, Men and Rabbie Burns
  8. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (6): Hugh MacDiarmid in Scots
  9. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (6)–Oh, NOW I Get It!: Hugh MacDiarmid in Scots
  10. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (7): Black Legacies
  11. Famous Poets’ Nature Poetry (9): “The Lake Isle of Innisfree”

Won–and That Much Closer to Done: NaNoWriMo 2017

This one was a doozy. I was on target with my word count only the first day and the last. The rest of the month, I was very, very far behind in my progress, skipping twelve days of writing. New challenges, all of which can be nicknamed Ethan, continued this month.

Anyway, I made it! I won with 50,515 words at 10pm tonight. That’s pretty good considering I was at about 21,000 just last Thursday, also known as Thanksgiving, which we hosted as usual. It just goes to show that anything is possible with the proper motivation. Since I’ve won every NaNoWriMo I’ve participated in since I started in 2011, I could not let this one go without trying. What I found was that the closer I got to finishing, the more determination I had to make it happen.

Here’s a reminder of my novel’s synopsis and the latest excerpt, the scene that pushed me over the finish line.

Synopsis

Novel title: Hunted Song of Looking-Glass Land

Summary drafted 3/28/17, revised 4/1/17, novel drafted halfway 11/30/17

A tale based on Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll, Hunted Song of Looking-Glass Land re-imagines the second of his two Alice books. Glimpses of original chapters and the use of characters provide a frame of reference for new adventures and insights about the true nature of heroics and villainy in Looking-Glass Land. The teenage girl Song Warber, a Jabberwock, or Wock, wields her singular music-making powers in the struggle of freedom and justice for all Looking-Glass Landers.

A little girl named Alice mysteriously arrives in Looking-Glass Land and stirs up trouble for Song’s family even as both her presence and Song’s threaten the monarchy. Yet, it is only by allying with this alien little girl that Song can fulfill a destiny she only begins to fathom when her family falls into the hands of those determined to tear them apart—the Royals, or chess pieces, of Looking-Glass Land. Alice’s destiny is also at stake as she awakens to the gritty realities of this ailing country. Her triumph will depend on new alliances, betrayals, comings of age, secret support, a bit of magic, open battle, overcoming tragedies, facing fears, and confronting the White King, the Red Queen, and a vengeful Humpty Dumpty.

Can two young girls of vastly different species, upbringings, and worlds ever hope to right the wrongs of the place they inhabit, however briefly, together? The good of parallel worlds may depend on it. And what will become of Song and Alice in the process? It’s a reversal across the chessboard of team loyalties and the realm’s purpose as a land of vivid dreams, uncommon reality, and infinite possibility. Will Looking-Glass Land survive the turmoil?


NEW CONTENT, 11/30/17, 10pm – Presented here unaltered from 1st draft and with a special shout-out to two fellow NaNo writers affectionately known together as “the Unicorn” because they are a prolific husband-and-wife writing team. It’s just magical.

Scene Draft: The Unicorn decides to revolt against the Crown.

Having met Alice at the reception of her and the Lion’s latest fight for the Crown, the Unicorn had become fascinated with this little human girl, a human child, all of human children whom she had thought were just “fabulous monsters.” It had tickled her hooves and made her eyes twinkle to hear that Alice had believed much the same about unicorns. They were bonded now, by the Unicorn’s initiation. “If you will believe in me, I will believe in you. Is it a bargain?” “That would be lovely,” Alice had said. Little did the Unicorn know how much she was to come to believe of Alice in this unique set of circumstances she found herself in.

Outside Drumming Town, the Lion lived to the south and the Unicorn lived to the north, from which they would meet in the middle for their weekly fight for the Crown. Before they headed home after their latest boxing match, the Lion took the Unicorn aside for a confidential chat, bloated as he was on plum cake that had not been sufficiently cut for proper digestion, though their guest Alice had tried to obey Looking Glass Land rules for serving Looking Glass cake by handing it round first and then cutting it.

When the crowd had dispersed, themselves bloated on plum cake and their brains filled with the din of the drumming that was meant, every time, to drum the fighting pair out of town, the Lion and the Unicorn could speak freely, seated on a bench in the circle where they had kicked up so much dust fighting their worthy fight.

“Unicorn,” the Lion began. “You know me. I am hot tempered, impractical, ferocious on most occasions.”

The Unicorn did not disagree with this but waited for the rest of what the Lion had to say.

“I have heard a rumor today of the most extraordinary kind, and as my faithful sparring partner, I thought it best to share it with you, get your take on it, you know, to see if you think there may be any truth to it.”

“All right,” the Unicorn said readily, “what is it?”

“Well,” said the Lion, and he looked around furtively, making sure no one lurked listening in nearby. “I heard from not one but two different sources, in the same day no less, that the White King will soon be discontinuing our regular fights for the Crown! Do you believe that? To end such a noble, glorious tradition, and what possible reason could the King have for such an insulting shutting of the door on us like that?”

The Unicorn gasped in shock and smashed his hooves against his powerfully muscled and beautifully bridled and decorated jaw. “Oh no! It cannot be true. It can NOT! We have given him no reason to worry that we might actually win—well, one of us—and actually challenge him for the throne—have we?”

“No, no, of course not, but do you think it has any merit, any chance of being true? If so, we have to do something about it, petition the King or—”

“Oh, dear, oh dear, oh dear!” The Unicorn went on, shaking her silky white mane and beginning to cry profusely.

“Will you stop blubbering already!” The Lion snapped, roaring his disapproval, his impatience, before the Unicorn had even let two drops of tears fall from her long white cheeks.

Sniffling continued, but the Unicorn tried to control herself long enough to continue the conversation. But then she let loose again, unable to stop it: “Oh, I knew it! I just knew it! You cannot trust anyone nowadays, not a king, not a queen, not a knight or a– OH! Or, even, perhaps, the sources of your rumor!” Now she had hit upon something.

“Well, that is possible, I suppose. We must be wary in any case. It would be utter disaster, sheer travesty, and just a damned shame if we were not to be able to continue fighting for the Crown!”

“I know, I know,” the Unicorn sobbed. “It would be the end of quite an era, irreplaceable in majesty and moment and beauty and grace and– well, in majesty and moment, anyway.” She had retracted grace and beauty in thinking specifically of the Lion.

“Enough of your jibes, Unicorn. I am more majestic, magisterial, and magical than you can ever hope to be!”

“Oh, what a fight we should have for the Crown now!” The Unicorn piped up, tears staining both her snout and her hooves.

“You see?” the Lion quipped. “Neither the King nor anyone can stop us if we choose to fight!”

“Indeed, but not today,” the Unicorn changed tune suddenly. “I am quite tired out. We had a real bout today, would you not agree?”

“Oh, yes, quite astonishing, remarkable, one of our best yet!” the Lion acknowledged proudly.

“But do you suppose this rumor has anything to do with the visit of that Alice girl we met today?” the Unicorn asked, growing increasingly pensive as the weariness reached her bones and horsey tail.

“Hmm.” The Lion grumbled and growled and snarled a bit thinking about the girl. He did not like her. He liked her even less for the little connection she had managed to make with the Unicorn.

“Oh, stop that! She was perfectly lovely, was she not?” The Unicorn read his grumbles well enough.

He only grumbled deeper in reply.

And so the foundation was laid, when the two would find out how serious things had grown in their realm, for an even greater division between them. They would be forced to choose a side, and Alice would be the deciding factor.

Later, the Unicorn, faced with the choice that had become so inevitable, found it was impossible to forget or dishonor the bargain she had struck with the visitor Alice. When the Unicorn heard that Alice was to be exiled from Looking Glass Land—before they had got to know one another, before the Unicorn would have a chance to ask her all about human life and other humans, before the possibility of replacing one pastime with another had fully materialized—that was the last straw.

It no longer mattered whether she or the Lion took the Crown, or if the White King retained it. The White King would not continue to ruin the Unicorn’s life any further, not if the Unicorn herself had anything momentous and true and noble and gorgeous and magical and mythical to say about it. And she often did.

1,107 words in one sitting

DSCN3681_Unicorn-in-Captivity-Hunt-of-Unicorn-series_Stirling-Castle

“The Unicorn in Captivity” – the 7th and final piece of the Hunt of the Unicorn tapestry series, original workmanship unknown. This photo by C. L. Tangenberg is of the series reproduction in Stirling Castle, Scotland. Traditionally, along with being a pagan symbol and symbol of Christ, the unicorn symbolizes Scotland, and the Lion England, as Lewis Carroll intended in Chapter 7 of his second Alice novel, Through the Looking-Glass: “The Lion and the Unicorn.”

 

 

Letter to Elyse

Dearly Departed Madam Puppy Dog,

Well, we did it. We got a puppy. We brought home your successor, and he’s recalling your spirit. He has also borrowed your collar, your leash, your crate, which you hated but he loves, and many other doggy things we kept for whenever this day would come.

Daddy said we had lots of Nature’s Miracle stain remover left, but he was remembering all the bulk stock we had while we still had you, messy lady. We later donated the rest. We still have the odor remover, but who wants to remove new puppy smell, really?

And your toys. All, except the ones we buried with you and the few we donated, are now his.

We think more about you, talk more about you again, now that a canine cousin has arrived. Comparisons are inevitable as inter-species learning returns and evolves. Every day is a new adventure with the resonance of all those new days with you, our first dog, when we didn’t really know what we were doing except in theory. You then blew all our theories out of the water. I suspect Ethan will throw us some curve balls, too.

Did I not mention, he has a similarly human-sounding name that starts with an “E.” Like yours did you, his seems to suit him. There’s some kind of enhanced dignity in it. And yet, it’s almost more fitting as a puppy’s name than yours would have been, since we got you as an adult. The name “Ethan” sounds fundamentally boyish and playful to my ear, reminiscent of other names with an “en” ending sound, like “Munchkin,” “Pumpkin,” “Button,” “and so on. Not to say your name was bad; we loved it and you all the same. It was just so very serious, my darling, as was most of your life with us.

I hope you have found rest and freedom from the pain you suffered for too long, even in our care over the course of three years. Beyond that, I have transferred all my hopes to Ethan now. I hope you don’t mind. He needs us as you did. He is shy, impressionable, and skittish, abandoned like you were but less dominant and nervous, perhaps. Whereas you were co-alpha in your foster family pack, Ethan was definitely a follower among his foster pack members, not quite fully so with us yet.

At the moment, he seems to prefer neighborhood dogs, kids, and passing cars to his would-be human parents. But in this, he’s helping us to come out of our shell as much as we are helping to socialize him. After so carefully protecting your heart from the risk of injury and illness from other dogs, it is good to look forward to letting our dog be a dog.

Ethan is our first puppy, so all the puppy behaviors will take some getting used to for us. With his ongoing adjustment and shyness, we still have to get to know his true personality, too. But he’s still a dog. He sleeps and eats and pees and poops and looks and listens and walks and barks like a dog, just like you did.

In a way, we’re falling in love with you all over again, with all dogs, by bringing just one into our home that’s been too quiet since you had to leave us. He sees, smells, and treads the ground with that eager puppy step, clomping heavily on the kitchen floor in feet he must grow into. The sights, sounds, smells, and textures of another beautiful dog refresh our lives and reaffirm the rightness of our time with you.

So, anyway, wish us luck with this Ethan character. Despite his calmness at times for a puppy, I’m sure he’ll become a handful in his own way soon. You were in yours.

After a year and a half without you, we are finally ready again to take the good with the bad, to learn and to love. I’m hopeful our capacity for these things will only grow the longer we have this dog. And we’ll be sure to teach him discipline, as I’m sure you would if you were here.

Your bones remain beneath the ground by the service berry tree we planted to commemorate you. Both serve to remind us of what we have learned, loved, lost, and gained anew. Your white and brown hair and scent still live in the corners of our house, and, after only three days, Red Ethan is already just fine with all your hand-me-downs.

Farewell, and hugs and kisses, my sweet Elyse. We will always miss you and love you.

We are . . . Yours Truly Forever.

Our New Puppy Ethan