Caroline Gerardo : May 2018

Thursday, May 31, 2018

The Last Vanilla Orchid

Where is the last wild rose?

Democrats aren't Nazis her T-shirt says.

Where are Scripps College sweatshirts?

the one from varsity swimming

the one of my son's LAX teams

the one dress worn for dancing

the one year all the dead teens

the one red notebook of 2008

the one time look from a road

the one bra I had to feel great

the one brilliant HTML code

the one wild rose outwits fate

the one remaining pot vanilla

the one Nonie left in the Villa

vanilla plants face devastation this year

Tuesday, May 22, 2018

La Maison de Vaiselle Cassé

Deer Together

La Maison de vaiselle cassé

The house of broken dishes

Two deer tonight bow on the road to home eyes a dazzle

grazing on seeds stirred fodder from the plow mosaic

aggregate stone covers miles of dirt winding my oasis.

It is not from a quarry; it's ground up houses and concrete.

Does don't worry over mud, calcium chloride, or regrading.

Get out of the car, and take a picture or video, the deer run,

leave me in high heels, I did not change to boots in the fun.

Which is the go left button for video, slow-mo, live or still?

The buck looks over his shoulder, "left of the photo button,"

he doesn't say dumb ass, and thank him with a smile sweet.

Go root for apple chips in the Subaru, where are the treats?

I find dog biscuits, then climb out in the golden hour light

sparkles on the ground, shards of a medicine cabinet mirrior,

blue and white crockery, a curved Etruscan vase, well sorter,

bits of avocado porcelain tile and salmon slick with mortar

pieces of passé like stars on the ground jumble speaking a

memory message surely the deer saw the glitter and yearned

to lick a totem and know coffee brewing on the spitfire grille

all I have for you is a clip of video to prove I find magic still,

believe me or not; come see my love, it's been a long silence

two deer tonight bow on the road praying for peace and joy.

Friday, May 18, 2018

In the Woods Refresh

I'm fatigued by sad news.

Does your brain need it?

Resist to turn to booze,

hike, 30 seconds a bit.

Images build kindness and joy.

Thursday, May 10, 2018

Mustard Fields

Jessica McClintock's grandmother taught sewing,

I own a romantic Victorian dress,

grow poor, I worked for what I wore,

Google search: Gunny Sax is still with us.

Search Etsy, used clothing, no flowery perfume,

they carries ghosts of divorces,

arm pit sweat of dances,

and lonely afternoons in mustard fields.

Laura Ashley died young,

like my Dad at sixty in a sad spill on stairs,

the doctors missed pieces of wallpaper with

sparrows perching on heirloom roses.

Bugs with four legs are okay to eat,

bodies recall melodies of spring,

locusts, beetles, and grasshoppers sing

dipped in sunshine and chalcanthites.

Caroline Gerardo Mustard Poem

Crime

Crime Poem

Sunday night the dogs escape to the wood.

baseball bat in the back, radio sings loud,

fingers burning fear warnings of childhood,

hours hunting, spy a tail in a cloud.

The trail ahead blocked by granite boulders.

Mountain lion serial murderer,

lurks hidden evil over my shoulder,

in the dark ahead is a torturer.

Flashlight fires courage with each imprint.

Upon the sagebrush the injured dog rests,

not a whimper when my shirt makes a splint,

carry back to the car without protests.

Wound appears to be torn by barbed wire.

Three in the morning, where may find a Vet?

Bottled club soda and Betadine dire,

carry an eighty pound dog works a sweat.

Dixie doesn't cry as I unload her

my arms wrap as I whisper, "found help."

Techs run with a stretcher as we enter

in their hands a muzzle to stop a yelp.

Carmel eyes gaze touching my heart in trust.

"I'll hold her head, she's a gentle lady."

Shave, clean, and xray reveals what it must,

the dog's been shot by evil upper crust.

Spot in hell for a man who tries to kill.

Easy to recover from lack of sleep.

This story is not ended I know it will

Find this criminal, a promise I keep.

This poem is a true story

Tuesday, May 8, 2018

Apple Advice for Robert Macfarlane

Dear Dr. Robert MacFarlane:

You ask why Roger Deakin's tree from a seed
refuses to flower.

How to make your apple tree dance:

I'm not certain where the subject tree is planted.
USDA hardiness zones are similar to the UK.
I assume you are 8 -10. A ten being poor for wild apples.
I pray you are not a ten.

Is this Malis Sieversii an ancient Central Asian cultivar?
How old is she? Some varieties will come to their girlish
maturity at three, and some late as fifteen year old from
first grafting.

We cannot change your climate with ice blocks sledding
or keep the soil from excessive rain as apples do not care
for soggy feet.

You can improve the soil.
Have you had it tested for ph?
To raise the PH add SMALL amount of lime or wood ash.
To lower the PH add small amount of sulfur.
Don't know is soil is acidic or alkaline?

1/4 cup dirt mix with 1/4 cup distilled water (equal parts you do the metric math) to make "mud" and pour white household vinegar over top. If the mixture fizzes, it's alkaline.

Dry dirt and distilled water as above and sprinke baking soda over top. If the mixture bubbles, it's acidic.

If neither test produces a reaction, you have fairly neutral soil

Not sure- get a ph tester kit at Amazon or some garden supply place

Dig in any amendments three inches or 8 centimeters and
drip water.

Do you tend a compost pile?
Apples thrive on mycorrihizal fungi - that which found
in composted dry leaves, small sticks, and straw (not hay).
These fungi appear as silvery white zig zags in dark soil.
Do not compost any apple leaves or fruit (careful not to
encourage pests and disease).
I suggest kelp tea. Oh, yes, a funny brew.
A teacup of kelp meal with water added to create
a toothpaste texture. I use teacup rather then metric
.00023, as this is not necessary to be exact. Keep the
paste in the refrigerator. Add a spoonful, a heaping
stir of honey (yes, no gentleman adds honey to
afternoon tea, this is only a phrase)
- to a gallon of water, 0.1558 meter.
Spray this on the leaves and soil AFTER it rains.
Kelp adds: NPK , 50 micro-nutrients, alginic acid, mannitol,
cytokinins, indoles, hormones, auxins and gibberellins.
No I didn't say to add gnomes, and all living creatures
have chemical hormones even for your lady apple.
There are seaweed sprays and fertilizers if you can't
find the kelp meal, but far more dear.

Soil deficient?
I believe in composted chicken manure, bat guano, bloodmeal,
bonemeal, and azomite. (Azomite is a volcanic dust with a
million years of 67 trace minerals that apples enjoy.) Just
saying the word azomite three times, gives the tree magic.

Location?
Apples do NOT like to be crowded. They prefer full sun.
They like a breeze to circulate around all the branches.
Tell me the graft is above the soil line, if not correct this
ASAP.
You cannot change the chill hours;
however, you can play the tree music.

So you tried these remedies?
Three years of springless joy?
Weather conditions changed?

Get drastic with this fickle girlfriend,
this advice is not currently politically
correct but I would never suggest
you should girdle her.
Root spade now in the spring.
Use a clean spade and from the reach of
the branches shade on the round you will
slice directly vertical to cut any sucker
roots. Draw a circle at the drip line
where the branches end and about four
inches or 10. 1 centimeters deep.

No fertilizer from a plastic bag.
No nitrogen kicks in the roots.
No heavy pruning this Fall.

Have patience.
When she delivers,
please advise when the flowers
fade to white.
If she refuses,
accept her beauty
as she stands.

C G