The Odds Garden Poem by Doug Blair

Shall we do it again

Marge?

Spring plant the Odds Garden

South of the house?

Walked over it this morning

Dry enough now

Brittle to the kick

Low spot to the east

No longer mucky.

Pleased with our lease

With Jerry on the west four hundred

That base rate and bean percentage

From the Mill

And superannuation

Has us sitting OK

Marge.

The land is expectant

Smells it, sounds it

We just HAVE to put something in.

Warm sun to my left

This morning tells the same story.

I figgur some tomatoes, cukes, leaf lettuce

Green beans, pepper squash

And a coupl’a punkins.

Whatdya say Marge?

And your edging flowers this year

Lilies or glads?

Yep gonna start tomorra

Clearing and burning.

Wil said he would

Probably make it home

Next Saturday.

Take out the winter kill

On the laneway trees.

I know you miss him.

Be right up to the porch

Marge

I’ll fix a pot of Earl Grey.

Sets the mood

For cribbage, don’t it.

But first get rid of these boots

In the shed.

(And then obscured

From her unflinching gaze)

Damn that Alzheimers, anyway.