All posts by navasolanature

Georgina, now mainly living in Andalucia, Spain. My current journey is to discover more and more about the natural world and to find ways to help protect the amazing biodiversity this planet has. I am also interested in writing novels, poetry and reading about others lives.

Poem 26 Hope for the Forests of Hope.

Hope for the Future, Forests of Hope.
BirdLife International joins 20 leading conservation groups – the ‘WC20’ ahead of this weekend’s G20 Leaders’ Summit to warn that COVID-19 highlights need for urgent action – and urge that investing in nature costs a fraction of pandemic response, while driving green jobs and tackling climate change.

Bird Life International supports ‘Forests for Hope which you can read about on their website and support through my sponsorship challenge. I hope by the time I post this that the G20 will actively support the work needed to restore our devastated natural world as we are all suffering from this destruction of ecosystems.

I have based my 26th and final poem on one I wrote for an exhibition of my friend Ruth Koenigsberger’s paintings last year. Another friend translated it into Spanish. Many people seemed to identify with that special feeling when we get a good glimpse of a wild animal. Her painting of the young owl was the poster for the exhibition. Next year we hope to have another exhibition as her bird paintings have taken full flight into a glory of imagination and colour.

Poem 26 is 26 words from this poem in English, folllowing with 26 lines for many of the creatures I have missed out. ( The amount of lines is a challenge with the new block editor, how can it be so clumsy?)

Wild Witness

I see you on my terrace;

You see me see you.

Your eyes hold onto mine.

You move through the trees of my life,

Leaves fall.

Our Navasola Forest of Hope


Twice now a female wild boar has looked me in the eye.

Both shortsighted but her sense of smell much better than mine.

She moves on,with her tribe following, to a safer distance.


The wild deer like the badger, the fox and the mongoose, leave their scatological deposits.

A reminder that this is their home here.

The genet too used our old roof as a skyscraper latrine.

While bats and owls went bump in the night to stoke our dreams with fur and feathers.


Birds hide away from us but woodpecker feathers lay lifeless on the ground.

Golden Orioles sing in the tall alders and willows above

Ruth’s orchard where pen, paint and patterns create smiles.

A buzzard or a booted eagle hovers.

Bullfinches and hoopoes pass by for weekend retreats.


Butterflies varied in their passions delight us with a feast of fritillaries, festoons and swooning swallowtails.


Insect life seems happy buzzing, clicking, whirring. There are no nasty chemicals nearby. .

Beetles abound from rotting tree trunks but we look out for one that likes our linseed protected timber roof.

Paper wasp nests hide in the eaves, hornets hang around near the ivy on an old oak. Wasp like waists to die for.

Dragonflies often hover near the porch ready to catch the large flying ants.


Our favourite porch pets are the regular reptile visits of

Psammodromus, the white gecko and the lizard of jewels.

Sometimes we find fire salamanders and the ladderback snake under old tiles and in wood piles.

We see so much life from the porch, the window and on quiet walks.

All imprints on our being.

But who are we on theirs?

As they look and stare, even glare at the imposition of our being on their path,

I hope they will dare to pass by our way,

Forever.

My Challenge
I am not by nature a fundraiser but I felt compelled as the lockdown began and many fund raising events couldn’t take place to make mine a poetry marathon. There was the 2.6 challenge for charities affected by the London Marathon not taking place. So I decided for my sins to write 26 poems, some with 26 words and some with 26 lines. Unfortunately the 2.6 fund raising page was time limited and the page no longer works. It has taken me 8 months to get to my finishing line.
Thank you to all those who have sponsored me for the RSPB 2.6 challenge page and for others who have begun to sponsor BirdLife International.
I strongly believe that if we could begin to restore nature and change our relationship from exploitation of the natural world to a sustainable and equitable future there will be hope that we can continue to live in a nature rich world that is much healthier and happier.
This weekend BirdLife International which begun in 1922 for conservation of birds across boundaries has coordinated with other nature organisations to present the urgent need to stop the destruction and speed up restoration of our natural world at the G20.

BirdLife International helped form Wildlife Conservation 20, or WC20, uniting 20 of the most prominent conservation NGOs at the forefront of protecting wildlife and ecosystems.
Patricia Zurita, BirdLife International’s CEO, said: “COVID-19 is a wake up call to everyone on this planet. Now is the moment when we must value and invest in conservation by developing sustainable nature-based economic stimulus packages. BirdLife believes access to a healthy planet should be a universal human right and this urgent call complements our 1planet1right.org campaign to make this so.
Otherwise, the natural world, on which we all rely, will not be able to protect us and safeguard our current and long-term well-being. Investing the recovery funds in nature will protect not only our economies but also our health.”
On this 21 and 22 November in Riyadh, as the G20 meet, they must step up to the plate to address this crisis.”

If you wish to help me finish my challenge the link for my fundraising page is below.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georgina-wright7

Poem 25. Writing Words For Weasels.

Head of Comadrito by Ruth Koenisberger

Winter is here and I am now on Poem 25 and in another lockdown, albeit now in the U.K. There have been too many distractions, some wonderful like cuddles with a new baby and dinosaur games with a three year old. Others have been nail biting as coronavirus cases rise here and the  American Election creates a cliff hanger. When will it all be over? We need courage and patience to know ‘it’ will all take its own time.

This poem is about weasels because a weasel is one of my main characters in The Call of the Wild Valley. But the poem touches on how we use animals to describe human characteristics and often to the detriment of the animal. Why do wolves have to be bad when their social relationships are supportive and for the good of the whole pack. Why do we have the phrase ‘weasel words’? Usage appears to go back to Shakespeare where weasels were thought to suck out the egg yolk from a shell.

‘I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a weasel sucks eggs’ As You Like It 1600.

However it may be thanks to Theodore Roosevelt in 1916 who used the words for the ability of humans to obscure meaning or fail to take responsibility with clarity and honesty in communicating. ‘one of our defects as a nation is a tendency to use weasel words; when one weasel word is used after another there is nothing left’. ( With thanks to Wikipedia and I trust verified)

I hope clarity can return to communication and weasels can be appreciated for their role in nature and ability to tackle rats.

Writing Words for Weasels

Weasels do not have those words

That deceive with tricks and lies

If weasels really did speak out

Would their words be heard

Above the human need to shout

About nowt, while a bird flies

Through a sky of sighs.

In creating my novel about the lives of different species in the animal and plant kingdoms of Navaselva, a weasel became one of the main characters. In many ways after I created the first chapter and a journey narrative I felt the novel began to write itself. The characters, the places, and the challenges faced seemed to fall into place. However, one aspect of my way of writing was to avoid speech, I did not want talking animals that would be too like humans. But I needed characters with personality and feelings.

Comadreya is the word for weasel in Spanish. I named the weasel this but then changed it to Comadrito when Ruth was drawing him. She wanted a more engaging name. At first I wrote with some distance from the character and in 3rd person omniscient ( this now seems to be an old fashioned style, if an all knowing narrative perspective). I now realise the need to engage the reader by being more in the point of view of one character.

The beginning idea came from a story told by our yoga teacher Juanjo. I struggled to understand the Spanish but this was about someone seeing a bird of prey lift up a weasel in its talons but then drop the weasel fairly soon after, possibly as the weasel bit the bird’s feet.

Weasels are known for their sharp teeth and ability to kill all kinds of prey. Much later after creating my bird/ weasel encounter  I  saw the iconic photo of a weasel on the back of a woodpecker. It seems both survived the encounter but the weasel was trying to kill the bird.

The smallest weasels, Mustela nivalis are very light, about 50 grams but are known for their need to eat a good percentage of their body weight every day. Hence their ability to tackle a wide variety of prey from small rodents to rabbits and large birds.They could be seen as opportunists, sharp, able to act quickly and fearless.

The first chapter of my novel begins with a weasel waiting on a rock to go on a journey of discovery. One of my two encounters with tiny weasels at Navasola was looking out of the front door and seeing a weasel on the rock by the olive tree. It seemed to look back at me but in its mouth was a mouse. I had to ponder the possibility that a mouse that I had recently released from being trapped in a large box in the house, had been delivered, tired and intimidated by its encounter with me, into the sharp teeth of the weasel.

These are some of the reasons I chose a weasel, a small enough animal to travel on the back of a large bird, an animal that can hide easily, but able to slip in an out of many different places in a quest for knowledge about a rapidly changing planet. Knowledge that can be shared to help all species adapt and survive. One of the main themes of the novel is facing challenges through cooperation and coexistence.

I have one more poem to go and it is ready as it is one I wrote for my artist friend Ruth Konigsberger’s exhibition a year ago. It has also been translated into Spanish and I hope to work on some of these poems and translate some into Spanish as they are very much about the flora and fauna of the Sierra Aracena.

I will also do a final fundraising on that post because the one I started at the beginning was time limited and closely connected to the London Marathon and losses that charities are facing in this pandemic.

Poetry Challenge. PoeM 24 : The Black Kite

Milvana by Ruth Konigsberger

As many of you will know I am trying to finish this 26 poetry challenge I started during our Spanish lockdown experience. We are currently entering back into that phase here in the North of the UK and I still have three poems to go. However, we have managed to spend time with Jessica Rose, our new arrival and focus of my last post. All is going well.

This poem is forDverse poets open link night, always a source of inspiration and able to kick start me. http://www.dversepoets.com

This poem is about the very successful and world wide species of black kites. The drawing is by Ruth Konisgsberger and is part of the portrait of the character of the black kite in my novel. I will do a post on this as soon as I finish these poems! Black kites do visit the Sierra on their migration, some breed here. However, nowadays the red kites seem more common.

The Migrating Kites ( Milvus migrans or Milano negro in Spanish)

Our Milvana migrates from here,

Here to somewhere over there,

Over the deserts to Afri Ka.

All kinds of kites have flown

All around the world wide web,

Connected by genes from ancient

Almost Jurassic dinosaur times.

Archaeopteryx, the mother bird

First flew the world.

Black kites, by many other names

Milano, Milhafre

Live long lives of 20 years or so

With brains that may adapt

To many different climes.

Some flew over wide waters                                                                                                     

To islands in the vast Atlantic

To the Azores.

Some flew to Gondawa

And learnt how

To use burning branches

To flush out scared prey.

Before wild fires spread so fast

To destroy whole forests,

In changing times

With wildlife crimes.

Others in the East

Fly around the temples

Of the many headed Gods

Brahmin souls in flight

Pariahs picking the bones

Of the dead.

Here in the Sierra

Not many black kites

Now fly.

Does anyone care

Why?

Wishing everyone a safe and purposeful time in such a difficult era.

For anyone wishing to sponsor the poems I will put up some new links for the charity Birdlife International who coordinate the conservation of birds across our human borders.

Poem 22 and 23. The Stork brings our Rose

My plan was to finish my poetry challenge by October 4th when the cancelled London marathon is run in a limited way. But plans can often go astray particularly when babies decide it is their time to be born. We welcome to our family the tiny Jessica Rose. And for my next two poems I will honour her with a stork and rose poem!  That will leave me three more to go, which are almost ready. I apologise too for the link to my fundraising page as without me knowing it had a time limit. Thank you to all those who have contributed or tried. I will put a final link when I have finished  the 26 poems to Birdlife International and explain the work they do.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

A  Haiku for Jessica Rose

Stork’s beak with small sprog

Or sprig of eglantine rose.

Brings Spring to Autumn

There are wild roses at Navaselva and they delicately entwine themselves up some of the young trees. Often they grow on the edge of a tree line looking for light. The eglantine rose for me of Shakespearean fame, Rosa rubiginosa, or the dog rose, Rosa canina find places to flourish on our finca and have effective thorny defences. Rosa canina was known for possibly curing dog bites. There may be other types too and I will now need to investigate next Spring. It seems there are many roses by many different names and types of leaves to distinguish their species.  Perhaps the wild rose can be symbolic of the need for women to be both tough and tender as highlighted by Maya Angelou. Certainly pregnancy and birth can be tough times and then the tenderness of love for a new human and the need to protect.

As for storks I have to be honest I have not seen them near our woodland. But there are some that nest in the local villages. And further along the road to Portugal there are many storks that nest on the pylons and the trees by the river. When we visit the Doñana wetlands in January there are 100s of storks nesting in trees and plentiful supplies of food in the marshy borders and rice fields along the Guadalquivir river.

It seems that the legends about stork have ancient history from Egyptian and Greek times, although there seems to be some confusion over whether the spiritual birds of birth and rebirth, carrying souls were cranes, herons or storks. Another interesting stork legend was the association with oregano, a well-known healing herb with antibiotic qualities that storks were seen with in their beaks. Oregano grows abundantly at Navaselva and I swear by its healing properties.  I use it for my gums and for any sign of a sore throat. However, the stork in the haiku has a sprig of a wild rose in its large beak!

The main stork legend grew in Northern Europe when storks arrived in Spring and were seen as signs of hope and family fidelity. Hans Christian Andersen’s story ‘The Storks’ consolidated the tradition we love to keep of the stork bringing the baby.

I have adapted a poem I wrote some years ago about storks based on Yeats ‘The Wild Swans of Coole’ into my 26 word format.

This drawing of the stork comes from an art class with my friend the artist Ruth Konigsberger whose paintings and drawings often accompany these poems. The classes began before lockdown and have started up again and bring us all a joy as she is not just a wonderful artist but a very skilled teacher. Our focus was parallel perspective and dark and shade.

Poem 22 Storks in 26 words

Among what places the storks will build

Their hopes, on pylons or spires,

With God’s desires fulfilled

Where wonder never tires.

All prosper where they perch.

Stork in parallel perspective

Poem 20 And 21: Goodbye to Summer. Fly Well, Fly Safe.

It is the equinox, the official end of long summer days. It is thought that this rather than any change of temperature is the way the migrating birds know they must leave for Africa’s warmth and food. The swifts usually go in August but house martins often have a second brood and will leave as late as September. The bee-eaters gather together too around this time. At Navasola there have been storms so perhaps some are still waiting to go. Here are two poems to two of Navasola’s summer visitors. One who has become a character in my novel and this drawing of him by my artist friend Ruth. His name is Abe Apio and he flies north in a quest to find a cooler place for a Navaselva buff-tailed bumblebee.

By Ruth Konigsberger

Abe Apio the bee-eater of my dreams.

Abe Apio you never leave me

Your brightness stirs my words

As your story moves me to write

Of your struggle to save

Not just bees.

Red rump swallow recovering from being stunned and ready to fly off.

You Can Not Keep a Swallow in a Zoo

This child delights in her own toy zoo,

A gorilla and tiger stalking through

A mat of savannah tufted strands.

A plastic fence surrounds a zebra.

A lion lies down with a flamingo.

The sun beats through a round bay window

Of a neat corner house with stained glass

Swallows at the front door and on the wall.

All this made the warmth of summer kind

In a chilly northern seaside town.

And this child did not know

What she knows now.

You can not keep a swallow in a zoo.

Now she counts the swallows as so few fly by.

The ones with red rump feathers preened

Prefer these southern lands with barns,

And ruins of long ago times,

Where with martins and swifts.

Built nests under old tiled roofs.

With holes and  a rural disregard

For cleanliness that bleaches bare all life.

We thought some swallows might adorn our porch

But one hit a window and took a time

To fly again high enough to see

The windows of heaven

Where the ark is waiting.

Each poem conforms to my challenge to write 26 poems for the 26 miles of the London marathon which was not run this year and many charities have lost vital funds. A poem will either have 26 words and be haiku inspired or 26 lines. Each poem will be about different species found around Navasola.

My charity is the Royal Society for Protection of Birds and  their links with Birdlife International. Please help them help the birds that know no borders. Much work has gone on to protect habitats and raise awareness of the importance of birds to the balance of nature. The decline in bird numbers and in particular swallows is worrying.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

Poem 19. A Socially distanced hoopoe. Poetry challenge of 26 poems for Nature.

Hoopoe visiting Navasola in Autumn

Abubilla in Spanish, Upupa epops in Latin.

 

 

 So much is changing and Autumn is upon us again. This hoopoe visited close to the Navasola house last Autumn. Where has the year gone? Usually with lots of activity, things to do and most important people to see and be with. I am trying to catch up with that at the moment amidst covid anxieties and rules for ever changing. Perhaps we need to be wary like the wild ones are. This hoopoe stayed for a while and I enjoyed the time spent together but at a discreet distance and ‘glass’ barrier! I have been thinking of a collection of poems with ‘Sitting on a porch’ observations. But there are also quite a few from looking out of my writing sanctuary window. Rain should also be due next week in our Sierra and most welcome after fires raged south of us for days in the Almonaster region of Huelva.

 

From Through the Window Poems.

The Visit of the Hoopoe

I see you.

Through the window.

I do not usually see you.

Among the many resident birds.

And those that stay for summer.

You prefer the pines and grasslands.

 

Not out of the blue but into the green

You arrive to seek to survive

Flash of chestnut, almost unseen

By the wet rocks and moss

Your long beak, slender fills with life

Tiny ants, flitting flies, wriggling worms

Ready to die to give strength to you.

Beneath the Autumn mulch, much squirms

Through the window our eyes follow

Your chestnut feathers, black white bars

A round eye looking, a crown on head

To show you are one of nature’s stars.

You stop to look,to listen hard, to us perhaps?

Trying not to disturb your path through grass

We stumble to remember your elegant steps,

We must focus on and zoom through glass.

 

Unseen, a barrier between us and the wild that visit

A bird on a journey to a better place

A sudden encounter so camera not ready

But still we draw in so close to your eyes.

I have not yet reached my target. Please help me help nature in these uncertain and challenging times.

 

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

Poem 17: Chestnuts and Cleaning Up; 26 poem challenge

Pollarded old chestnuts supply lots of fallen branches.

This poem is a reflection on our very old chestnut tree orchards and the need to ‘clean’ up between the spaced trees. For many years I have left lots of areas to just grow and little chestnut forests abound. A well spaced orchard is in contrast to the way trees grow in a wild forest. As always thanks to Dverse poets who rekindled my muse some years ago. There are always good poems to discover there and inspiring prompts. https://dversepoets.com

 

 

An abandoned and ancient chestnut

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chestnut Orchards and Wild Forest

How does the ancient chestnut feel, on its own,

Without its young growing up around it?

For centuries, it keeps on trying to not die alone.

Trees planted out at even spaces in the wrong places.

In between  too much light not shade

For the new chestnuts to be made.

The trees own sweet fruit must delve down deep

And grow the root, the stem, the leaf.

But the young are cursed and must be cleaned

For never will it grow the fruit we want to eat.

Old chestnut trees in the Sierra Aracena

 

 

 

 

 

 

The wild now grows between those planted trees,

Unkempt, unruly, a wide variety of lives

Breathing, green but dirty children

For  here  wild abandon thrives,

Tall thin pine, brushed thick ivy vine,

Arbutus Unedo with red fruit, wild glow

Light metal viburnum berries, turpentine

And thin young chestnuts take their time.

Tree time and the old ones no longer weep

As they feel the roots  meet up in the deep.

Jungle with thorns on finca

 

 

 

 

 

 

To call the land dirty when it is full of green

‘Su ci o*’ may  sound sweeter to the ear

Than the one that rings with unclean

And all the range of life we love to ‘lim pi o’*

 

Forgive us trees as we do not know

How to live and how to grow.

Chestnut flowers

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am slowing down on the 26 poems so might need to speed up. There is always plenty to write about at Navasola and plenty to do! The heat is in abeyance and has gone to London where it is hotter than Seville. Trees could be our saviours in this climate race to the hottest places, especially the oldest ones. But with threats in the Amazon again of worse fires and the proposed destruction in India of an ancient forest in order to mine poor grade  coal ahttps://www.theguardian.com/world/2020/aug/08/india-prime-minister-narendra-modi-plans-to-fell-ancient-forest-to-create-40-new-coal-field

And of course in the U.K. ancient trees are felled for the HS2 train link which will cut a journey time by half an hour but destroy some of the little ancient woodland we have left here.

We must be hopeful and active in this struggle for the heart of nature. Please help a nature charity  by sponsoring my challenge and it will keep me going!

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

 

* sucio is Spanish for ‘dirty’ and wild, abandoned areas are referred to by this word. Limpio is the word for clean. And so instead of clearing as we do in English we clean the land. In reality we destroy a lot of habitats for our attempts at farming.

 

Reforestation needed, old chestnut trees in abandoned woods

Poem 18: I Will Never Beat the Bracken; A memory of April 2020 Spanish lockdown.

 

Wild Flower meadow

This poem is based on my April lockdown experience  in ‘splendid isolation’ at Navasola in Southern Spain and working outside close to nature.  I also wrote poetry and responded to a poetry competition on ‘Winning’. I didn’t expect to win but it was worth penning this poem. I have adapted it to my form of 26 lines for my 26 poem poetry challenge.

Here it is for Open Link Night at https://dversepoets.com/. Linda  presents this  prompt with the reminder that this was the day the Rolling Stones released their single ‘I Can’t Get No Satisfaction’ in 1965. Great memories!

‘You can’t always get what you want,but if you try, sometimes, you might find, you get what you need’ The Rolling Stones

I thought I wanted wild flower meadows instead of tall bracken but I got much needed exercise and distraction from pandemic anxieties!

 

I will never beat the bracken. 

The bracken has grown taller than me in just two days.

It seems that now my role in life is to beat this thing,

That leaves little space for wild flowers to grow.

A man fangled machine, at first, refuses to start.

Will I ever beat the bracken back with just a scythe.

A spluttered choke and I begin but will not win

Against the roots that run so deep within

Wet, red, leaf littered soil where chestnuts grow

So well, till drought dries out, and then

Another battle begins.

Who wins when no rain falls?

 

I control the blade

To not cut down in prime of life,

Stars of Bethlehem and Solomon’s Seal

Along this track to some forgotten Calvary

Where nature is the sacrifice.

When I retire at close of day,

I know who will return.

The owl for sure as now the way is clear

To kill the mouse with no shelter near.

The spanish robin too, just like our own

Keeps an eye on what is now laid bare.

The wild boar will come and plough

Without the thorny bramble there.

 

With these thoughts I win acclaim

But lose the game.

 

Star of Bethlehem

 

 

 

 

 

 

I did not want to be so far from family during the lockdown but there was little choice so I enjoyed the time spent working outside  and trying to cut back bracken and brambles in order to have some fire plan in a wild and overgrown valley.  In my head I wanted to protect old chestnut trees and the house, but I did not want to cut any flowers already growing as these would help in creating a wild flower meadow. Clearing bracken and brambles  makes it easier to pick the chestnuts that fall in late October.

Wild solomon’s seal

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some win and some lose in this conservation game.

The link to sponsor my poetry challenge is on the previous post if you would like to donate to conservation charities that help restore nature.

 

 

Poem 16: The Madroño Tree and the Two Tail Pasha; 26 Poem Challenge.

Greetings to all and to Dverse Poets on their 8th anniversary. Am linking this to open link night with Mish; https://dversepoets.com/   And really pleased to find Earthweal and their challenges with a nature focus; https://earthweal.com/

Life coming out of lockdown in Spain has been interesting and busy in many ways as we can now decide to go out more and visit friends and family.  Some normality but also it is very strange and strained too. We hope all is going well for so many of you in many different places.

There has also been more work to do on the finca as we finally been able to have help from others. There have been some blessings in our retreat from society but  sadness too as we are personally  touched by loss and at another loss as we watch and read too much incompetent managing of a health crisis.

.This poem on my 26 poem challenge is structured around my form of 26 lines, 12 for the tree and 12 for the butterfly and two finishing lines to comment on both. It is based on our experience of having to cut back some trees from the house and knowledge of butterfly habitats and the plants and trees they need.

The Madroño Tree and the Two Tail Pasha

Arbutus Unedo, Strawberry tree, Madroño

Today is trim time for trees

But not scissor light snips

More motor power and deep cuts

Ear muffs on for heavy chain whirs

If you could only keep your fine fans

Of branches away from our earth tiled roof

I would not feel the hurt of habitat loss

The screams of the leaves as they dash

Against the cool cement white rendered walls

The birds will not be pleased

Nor the butterfly that some call

The foxy emperor or Pasha.

 

 

Two Tail Pasha, Charaxes jasius, El Baja or Cuatro Colas. ( 4 tails!)

Here you must lay your eggs

To hatch into the worm with two horns.

 

 

 

How do you know this tree is best?

You do not need a nest

To carefully care as each of yours

Must hatch alone. Make its own munch

Through tough leaves.

Tough lives taken at the point of a beak

Or hang cocooned for days

Till horns transform, two tails of wings emerge.

So bright, so fair, move me to gasp

At change so rare.

 

From dark places, burst leaves, break wings.

Reach out for life, lived briefly, in the light.

 

Two tailed pasha

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As for the ongoing climate crisis my poetry challenge is to help conservation charities restore nature and prevent biodiversity loss. We must have more trees and wild places. It will help us too.

I know there are a lot of struggling charities at the moment but if you can support my efforts I and theRSPB/BirdLife International would be grateful. I am halfway through now and every little helps me write more!

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blog

 

Poem 15. The Pond and a Shining Moment. 26 poem challenge.

This is a poem about our pond which took a long time to create but now gives a lot of joy and a habitat for many and drinking water for the birds and bees. It is also inspired by Lilian’s haibun prompt for Dverse poets and for open link night. Hope all Dverse poets have a good summer break and a Happy Anniversary for July 13 th. Thanks for all the inspiration.

The haibun form consists of 3 short authentic paragraphs, not fiction and completed with a haiku. Lilian gives some interesting advice on using a kiku , a nature/ time/ season key word, followed by an insight. https://dversepoets.com/2020/06/22/traditional-writing-on-a-shining-topic/

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Pond and a Shining Moment

The thin walls of the old house crumbled as the digger gently pushed. Stronger wider ones needed to be built to hold up a new roof. The man with the digger was only hired for two days but he was willing to dig out a hole for a pond for an extra 80 euros. We jumped at the offer. We wanted a wildlife pond. There was no running stream here, all the water was underground, sinking fast through sandy soil in the torrential rains after months of Mediterranean drought. The pond was excavated and then I decided to dig, deeper and wider and bring wheelbarrows full of good deep soil to my new vegetable plot up the hill. An open air muscle building gym.

The pond was downhill but became an uphill struggle. For two years it filled with rain water and the second year was so full and overflowing in May but by September was drained and the lining destroyed. Wild boar had one too many mud baths with tusk marks slashed through plastic. A new plan was devised of a boarproof fence, similar to the one around my vegetable garden. There was also so much wild plum growing that without removal this area would become a dense thicket. We worked to clear and have been rewarded with a meadow of wild flowers and the beginnings of more life in the pond with its now very expensive aquatic liner. We hoped for the croak of frogs.

His joy this lockdown spring has been to walk down from the house to the pond. His walk now is slower, unsteady. A virus, some years back, perhaps produced this change. Or so the experts say, but they do not really know. Once able to walk far and work on our new roof, now, he struggles to walk any distance. But the pond beckons, and with binoculars and a fence to lean on, he looks intently around. First he spotted one frog and then another. They seemed to be keeping their distance. At last shining, shimmering in the light, perfectly camouflaged with their dark green back stripe, they have their moment, and we have ours.

Light falls on Lily
Bees buzz: slippery limbs
Entwine hold hope tight

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will include this in my 26 poetry poem as a habitat for a variety of species including the Iberian frog, plenty of pond skaters, beetles, a lily and other water plants, reeds, dragonflies and lots of bees. The pond has attracted the birds for water and baths, including a flycatcher or papamoscas in Spanish. Around the pond there is now a real variety of many wild flowers.

Thanks again to Dverse poets who reignited my love of writing and playing with poetry.

I am half way through my challenge and half way to my charity target. Please follow the Just giving link if you would like to sponsor me on behalf of a wildlife, nature charity. The RSPB and Birdlife International.

https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/georginas-26-challenge-i-am-going-to-write-26-poems-about-the-wild-flora-and-fauna-here-on-our-woodland-finca-in-spain-i-will-post-these-on-my-blogs