Christopher Donahue

You plant a tree for the next generation. You plant tomatoes for this one!

I’d like to take credit for first half of that quote, but I can’t. However, I can say the second half of the quote is is definitely me!

Growing tomatoes is one of my favorite activities. In this digital age, growing tomatoes is a nice calming hobby that keeps me connected to the natural world. And, this year is no exception.

Each Spring, I wait until the end of May to put the plants in the ground because of the threat of frost. It doesn’t seem real that it can get that cold in Southern New England in May but past experience has proven the theory.

And this year, after procrastinating a bit, I put my last four plants in during a driving, cold  rain in forty degree weather on Memorial Day Weekend.

Just a reminder that planting tomatoes aside, Mother Nature doesn’t need a pandemic to make us stay indoors all (Memorial Day) weekend!

Copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

By the light of an argent moon, I sit in the dark with my cat Quiet Rustle, looking out at the drive way and yard. Many times we’ve done this, late at night when we can’t sleep.   The difference is of course I should be sleeping and Quiet Rustle is on patrol!!!

In those wee hours, the neighborhood is quiet and my car sits idle in the moonlight. Quiet Rustle is focused on what could be a tuft of grass or a bunny standing still near the garden.   Only patience will tell.  Rustle stays focused and my sleepy mind wanders: I think about lost loved ones. I think about the other side of the Earth where the sun is shining right at that moment, and furious human activity rages on until the day is over and people get exhausted and go to sleep.

Except for Quiet Rustle and me.

Eventually, I start to doze and decide to go to bed. I have work in a few hours.  Quiet Rustle stays up. His first nap of the upcoming day is scheduled at  9 AM!!!

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

Another effort for  National Poetry Month!!!

Spring Part 2

In morning darkness
a mockingbird is first
to break the stillness
rousing me from my bed
to go out in the yard
groggily wondering what tree he calls from
beckoning  a mate
or to show his territory
or announce to a sleeping world
Spring has returned.

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

Here’s my latest effort for  National Poetry Month!!!

Spring Part 1

rain
came anyway
flowing over
incipient buds
gurgling down
black-slick tree-trunks
puddling
amidst tufts of sprouting
vivid green grass
right on time
despite
my forgetting

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

like ice chunks drifting

a flotilla of white swans

winter becomes spring

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

winter’s icy grasp

freezing cold discouragement

then spring’s first green buds

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

Dark cold starry nights

Dazzling snow white sky blue days

Winter’s grip ’till spring

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

let February be February

let the second month do it’s thing

let it snow snow snow

let it make me late for work

let it make me happy

with snow covered fields

 blue skies

and frigid starry nights

Let February be February

because for good or bad

it’s only twenty-eight days!

copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

Last January seems almost a lifetime ago. Covid hadn’t struck yet and my wife and I were about to take down the Christmas tree. It was almost February and we were ready. But looking under the tree, we noticed Felix our cat wasn’t ready. Whether it was to take a nap or lying in ambush for his brother Quiet Rustle, Felix liked to hunker down under the tree. And because we liked Felix, my wife and I decided to leave it up a while longer for our furry buddy.

A little over a month later, it was clear the Covid-19 was metastasizing into a pandemic. To dispel the winter and pandemic darkness, we decided to leave the Christmas tree up for the remainder of 2020.

Now here we are. It is still Winter and pandemic dark in these parts. Our little Felix passed away last July.

And we are leaving the Christmas tree up until the pandemic is over.

Copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue

On a wintry January evening, I come home after a hard day at work.

The house is cold and dark. The night, chilly and damp and entirely appropriate for a winter evening. I enter through the back door. For a moment, I wonder if something happened to my cat because he didn’t greet me as soon as I came through the door. But before the thought can turn to worry, Quiet Rustle appears and brushes his greeting against my legs.

I make my way through the darkened house. Normally,  I would be turning the lights on as I moved about  in the dark. But on a mid-January night like tonight, I go through the rooms turning on the Christmas lights that still hang in the windows. There’s just something wonderful and uplifting seeing the festive lights dispelling the bleak, cold darkness.

And this year, like last, there just seems to be so much darkness to dispel.

Copyright 2021 Christopher Donahue