||| FROM ORCAS GARDEN CLUB |||
‘Twas December on Orcas, when all through the isle
Not a green thing was growing, or would be for a while
The gardening catalogs were marked up with care
so past the last frost date new plants would be there.
The stalks and the seed pods hovered over their beds
while visions of springtime dance in our heads.
And mom in coveralls and I in my wellies
harvested the last of the produce to fill hungry bellies.
When out on the treeline rose such a clatter
I sprang from the table to see what was the matter.
Away to the window like an eagle I flew—
And what I saw then made me feel mighty blue.
A seventy-foot fir had roots loosened by rain
It fell on the woodpile and then split again
When what to my wondering eyes did appear
but my neighbor with chainsaw and four black tailed deer!
With a yank of the starter cord, the saw came alive
and frightened deer fled just like bees from a hive.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And cut me a woodpile; then turned with a jerk,
After we chatted and sipped some hot tea
Discussing the greatness on Orcas for gardeners like me
With a climate that’s perfect for many a crop
At some point soon, this poem has to stop—
So I will exclaim for all Orcas to hear
Happy holidays and gardening for all of the year!
