What slides through the Fog?
Or hides in the fog?
Or lies in the fog
In wait?
These are the questions of,
The Lighthouse Keeper of Partridge Island,
Feeling his way from Keeper’s House
To Lighthouse,
In this fourth day
Of fog
To consume the Island.
It is a futile chore to maintain
The Light,
Which remains unseen from
Shore to ship.
Yet, I do.
From treacherous day,
To treacherous day,
Proving
– I think –
Some sort of Faith.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2024 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
In Kafka In The Castle, I fill in the ‘missing’ diary entries from Kafka’s real diary. He either did not fill in these days himself, or he destroyed them. There are some estimates that Kafka destroyed 70% – 80% of everything he wrote.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
08 April 1917
I seem to end in the most absurd situations. This afternoon, before Sunday dinner, Ottla took me away for some gardening. Rooting around in the earth, with the frost barely gone. Only Ottla could find such a plot of ground in Prague, or expect me to grub about in it like some hungry animal.
It was obviously some sort of communal land – such places are popular during this war. There were even families at work. Children also. One small boy was caught between his interest in the garden, and his desire to be a small boy. And what a dilemma it was. He’d work in the ground for awhile, following the example of his mother, then suddenly race around, exploring like a small boy. He came over to Ottla and me, and hunkered down beside us. He shook his head with a sigh of exasperation, and reached over to put his hands on mine. “Mummy says that’s wrong,” and with great patience and determination, began to show me how to prepare the earth. I thought there could be no better proof to Ottla of how inept I was.
I followed the movements of his hands, and between us, we dug quite a hole. At last the little fellow stood, obviously satisfied. “I go now,” he said, and ran away to see some other entertaining oddity. Ottla hadn’t laughed for fear of offending the boy, but she didn’t show such restraint when we were finally alone.
It fell to me to find the flowers.
Such things prove God’s sense of humour, for I have no interest or understanding for flowers. There was a fellow at university who could talk about flowers for hours. Otherwise, he was quite pleasant to be with. So it seems a joke that I would find them, between a pile of rubble and the wall of a house.
I had been exploring, much as the little fellow had done. In fact, he was running past when I found them, so I showed him also. They were white, with frail leaves close to the ground. Quite nondescript. But the boy was fascinated. He put his face close, although he didn’t touch them.
“Can I tell Mummy?” He obviously thought they were my flowers. “Yes,” I said, and he ran to get her. She followed him as he chattered all the way, and then she too hesitated, looking at me cautiously. “Perhaps your wife would like to see them,” she suggested. It took a moment to realize she was referring to Ottla. The flowers had become my possession. “Yes,” I said, “And tell anyone you like.” “The first flowers of Spring,” she said, and she went to tell the others, taking care to stop at Ottla first.
Tiny white flowers.
I can still not believe the looks upon their faces, as they crowded around. Even the children were silent.
The relief they showed.
I almost dropped Paw, my cat/kitten,
Black as blood pudding
With one white mitten,
When Sister Darling, of
The Rarefied Church of the World (Reformed),
Stepped onto the dock
Of the Partridge Island Lighthouse.
She wore an emerald green gown
On this Saint Patrick’s Day,
Which fit her form
In a very alluring fashion.
She was bringing
A feast for myself, and Paw.
A hamper filled with (I sniffed it out)
Colcannon
Shepherd’s Pie
Corned Beef
Black-and-Tan Pork
Lime Poke Cake
And the clink of bottles
promising many Half and Halfs
which she knows how to pour
to perfection.
We exchanged hamper and cat.
Paw went directly to burrow
Into her long hair,
Which I, myself, will do
When the time for slumber
Arrives.
Then we began our walk
Up to The Lighthouse Keeper’s House,
Which I have festooned with
As many green doodads as
I could find.
I’m The Lighthouse Poet Laureate of Partridge Island /1821 – 2024 / A lot of stuff have I seen / A lot of stuff to report}
DE BA. UEL
Four houses down the hill, on my side of the street, a HUGE tree grows in a backyard. For many years it was a resting rook for flocks of crows on their daily migration.
The crows would leave the other side of the harbour around dusk. They would fly to their evening rookery on a university campus on this side of the harbour. I’d guess 5 miles (8.04672 kilometers) – as the crow flies. They would return between seven and nine the next morning, making another stop in The Crow Tree.
I estimate there were around two hundred crows, taking their ease for twenty minutes or so. There was some flying and fluttering around The Crow Tree, but generally they settled and stayed on the branches.
Other birds steered clear.
Then, about three years ago the university, which was the crows’ destination, decided to construct some additional buildings. This meant the removal of trees. Lack of trees meant that the crows would have to go elsewhere. So much for higher learning.
And, indeed, over the months, the crows visiting The Crow Tree diminished, and eventually stopped. I researched the situation and found out that “my” crows were just one cohort of a murder that could reach two thousand. And I found out that not all the crows stopped using the university for their evening roost. There were obviously enough trees for some of them.
But “my” crows stopped.
That is, until two weeks ago.
One morning, around 70 – 100 crows settled into The Crow Tree. It was a great surprise. They stayed an hour or so. With such few numbers, they were neither raucous nor flighty. They murmured among themselves, but I could not decipher what they were talking about. And then they went on their way. They did not make a return evening flight, and I have not seen them since.
Was it some sort of reunion?
DE
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