Stories from the Stringam Family Ranches of Southern Alberta

From the 50s and 60s to today . . .



Monday, April 30, 2018

Garden Treasure



A tray of nasturtiums, a little pink hoe,
The widest of smiles, almost ready to go!
She grabbed tiny gloves, in red boots, she was clad,
And three-year-old May went to garden with Dad.

Both daughter and Pop. In the dirt. On their knees.
Teased by a squirrel and mischievous breeze,
They spent most an hour in the bright springtime sun,
Mom could tell by their glee, they were having such fun!

Soon the squeak of the latch and a “Mom!” at the door,
And the sound as her gloves and small boots hit the floor,
Then the tiptoe of sweet, round and little pink feet,
‘Twas her small daughter trying to be so discrete.

She slipped up to Mom, and then peered all around,
“Mama!” she whispered, with hardly a sound,
“I was out helping Dad and watched all that he did!
“Dad buried the flowers. But I know where they‘re hid!”

Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we three besought,
To try to make the week begin,
With gentle thoughts--perhaps a grin?
So Jenny and Delores, we,
Now post our poems for you to see.
And when you’ve read what we have brought,
Did we help? Or did we not . . .

Come back next week, we'll strain our brain,
And we three will discuss the rain!

24 comments:

  1. Adorable. Planting is like burying, just never thought of it that way, not being 3!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Me, neither! Even when I WAS three! :)

      Delete
  2. That is so very sweet. That is such a wonderful age.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Oh, I so agree, Alana. Three is the very best!

      Delete
  3. So precious! I will forever think in terms of a garden's buried treasure now.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. It certainly changed my thinking! :)

      Delete
  4. Definitely an awwww poem. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. She's such an 'awwww' little girl! :)

      Delete
  5. This is precious in so many ways. And finding rhymes can be genius when you know where you are going with the meat of your poem. Thanks.

    ReplyDelete
  6. Sweet :)

    Now as long as she leaves them where they're buried, all will be well :)

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. That's would be the next story . . .

      Delete
  7. And - rain - got it :) Thanks, Diane!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Drip, drip, drop little April Shower. In May . . .

      Delete
  8. What beautiful father daughter time. I love that she knows where they're "hid". Weekends In Maine

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. As long as she leaves them there, Karen! :)

      Delete
  9. How adorable! And I hope based on a real life experience!

    ReplyDelete
  10. Very sweet - and a little cutie patootie she is too.

    ReplyDelete
  11. Replies
    1. Thanks so much, River! It was such a sweet experience!

      Delete

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