Chores
Still August, here, but that means we’re in the limbo time, the pause between summer’s intensity and fall’s quick drop to cool days and dark nights. There have been sightings of patches of yellow leaves on the birch trees, and there’s definitely a dark period at night. Tomorrow, the public school kids begin their school year and the university starts two weeks later. It’s time to get the chores done that we’ve been putting off all summer.
So, yesterday, we dug a new hole for a railroad tie post to replace a broken four by four that made up part of a pass-through along the fence line next to the horse water tank. Today, we dug a trench for electrical conduit out to the horse shed–no more “winter” electric cord trailing out to the water tank heater. Tomorrow, splitting and stacking wood. Soon, back to the hay fields for the last of the hay for winter.
Write about essential chores where you are. What are the sounds and smells of them? What ache do they bring on–in the muscles and in the heart? What lies beyond?
Post your poem as a comment and I’ll add it here.
Tags: chores, fall, not complaining, poetry, summer, winter, writing, writing prompt
Mattie's Pillow 
August 20, 2011 at 5:55 am
Good prompt; my first thought is that in suburbia the pain is in the pocketbook, getting the plumber in to the mountain cabin early in October to drain the pipes and hot water tank. Down here in the foothills, we drain and roll up the hoses, maybe clean the bird feeders, but we don’t have the connection to the land and its habits that you have. I’ll give it some more attention though.