"Sport" - Free Of Referees

Sport ( botany ) has a different connotation than sport talked about in daily life. In a horticultural setting  
the word "sport" refers to an abnormality in a plant's growth habit that causes a growth to form on the shrub or tree inconsistent with normal texture, color, or size from its traditional habit. From these abnormalities most dwarf plants stem and are further cultivated into the general landscape.

A terrific "sport" specimen is highly visible 30 feet up in a white pine tree from my front porch rocking chair. I've watched this growth from my vantage point for many years growing larger and more compact in my neighbor's white pine tree along St. John's Street. The old Shaner Homestead ( 767 N. Evans St. ) was recently sold and is being remodeled as we speak. 

If anyone knows of an interested party who, through climbing the tree to further evaluate the "sport" with a closer look, maybe the new owner would oblige, if asked. I estimate the "sport" to be about 8 foot around, about the same tall, in its present extremely compact nature. The study of nature, especially close at hand, can be fulfilling to a naturalist who's freed finally from books.

Ronald C. Downie 

The Carousel - PTC #9 -

Round and round, up and down,
Horse and lion, giraffe and hound,
Children laughing, smiling, asking,
Please, please ! Again, again !
Another ride ! Please, again !

Nostalgia, dreams, oh memory,
Young and old, all, everybody,
Climb abroad ! The organ plays 
Familiar tunes of bygone days .

1905 at the birth of Century Twenty
Wood carving artisans hew a plenty
Standards and jumpers to stencil then paints
Murals of landscapes, portraits of Saints .

The ring, the ring, get the brass ring,
Coveted is such a small round thing .
Heart jumping, anticipation high
Circling round and around for another try .

One hundred years soon gone by
Hark, listen to echoes of a joyous cry
Melded within these ancient pieces
For boys and girls, nephews and nieces .

In tribute to you fine workers all :
Helpers, investors, you believers tall,
We will honor his memory forevermore
For the living : those happy, healthy, and well
The Derek Scott Saylor Memorial Carousel .

   Ronald C . Downie 

Escaping Stories Written Down 

Genesis 1 . . . We must escape
The bondage slog of daily gyre
To free Wisdom's intrepid wings
From Hades' fire . . . Revelations 22 .

Three hundred long dark years went by 
Assemble, vote,"U'ah, we got scripture !"
Talk about miracles, then they manipulate
The Gospels in praise of Heaven's rapture .

Those monkish scribes of walled in thoughts
Lay to the demands of their zealot priests;
Archangels fly, "Come in" calls out Noah,
Christ walks on water, holds Passover Feasts.

Two thousand years pass, the plot thickens :
Priests, monks, pastors, cathedrals, spires,
Holliday choirs, candles, especially crosses,
Madrigals, Holly Hymns, all feed Man's desires.

"Why are we here ?" and "Who are we ?"
Unanswered still. Who will please intercede 
On our behalf before the Lord, just because
We are lowly and unfit to plead our own need.

We wish our waters pure, our air clean to breathe,
Sufficient sustenance for all, a good strong society.
We must seek beauty everywhere, do no one harm,
Make Our World better, for us, and for all of thee.

Ronald C . Downie  

 Hand Over Hand

Inconspicuous, all these past years, are my hands. They served their purpose willingly doing my bidding over and over again without forethought. Today and for the rest of my life they've become a huge liability. The constant pain from advanced neuropathy continues to increase; it seems, daily. The resent bout of deep infection in my left thumb seems to be over, although I still have a couple of weeks left in a three a day regiment of an antibiotic pill prescription. I'll be happy when the pills are no longer needed, they taste so awful and leave me with a pit in the stomach, deep heartburn.

Many people are in my condition, most are a lot worse off than me, and I feel for them. We are those, where the cure seems too often more imposing on their lives, than the original problem. I'm suggesting to take the cure, no matter how foul it is, because the alternative generally is worse. Discomfort can be yucky; the alternative fatal.

Care for your hands : frequent washing and proper drying ; apply moisturizing lotion : liberally, timely, and sufficiently. Don't allow yourself to take these appendages for granted ; your hands are more important to you than just to handle utensils, in fact, in some countries they are a major component needed in order to talk. 

Remember : "A hand up generally trumps a hand out!"

Ronald C. Downie

Facebook Friends

Recently I acquired a few more friends on Facebook so I'm inviting all of them to read my postings on my blog -thepostedpoet.blogspot.com -

Much of what I blog, if short enough, I also post on Facebook for all to read. Don't get me wrong, since I've started writing, I've always stated that I write for my own enjoyment and if anyone reads it I'm especially happy. 

Living in and around Pottstown for all but 80 years and accomplished most everything I've tackled, except being healthy and ambulatory at this age, I urge all others to take up writing. For me, writing is therapeutic by its insistence on keeping the mental juices flowing. The stimulation that writing forces the brain to do keeps the brain from atrophying into dementia. You all know the symptoms. Try writing to ward them off.

Ronald C. Downie

Lessons Learned From An Orchard Man

It was with measured sadness when I learned of the end of operations at the Ringing Hill Orchard last week. The Mercury reported the end after seventy some years in operation. Thinking back, it was seventy some years ago since I worked there. Mr. Bill Hampton, grandfather of the present owners, was running the orchard on a day to day basis from his roll top desk when he hired me.

Even during my elementary school days I was big for my age so Mr. Hampton assigned me to be a ground man. I was to walk along side of the wagon and lift the picked fruit baskets from the ground and place them on the wagon for another boy to slide them into place for the ride back to the sorting station. I was happy and willing to trade hard work for the experience of earning a few dollars. Dollars which went home to mom for house expenses except for a small allowance for me to buy candy or a movie ticket. At 30 cents an hour, I wasn't a big earner.

Mr. Hampton was old to me then, like an old gruff grandfather, running a tough business based on the weather and fruit trees which needed constant attention. He seemed to have plan and under his wing things happened in positive ways, the fruits matured and were brought in then off to final market places. He taught me one of life's universal lessons.

"Hey boy !" he hollered at me, " Get that broom stick and get in my truck". The truck was a car chassis, roof cut off with and a homemade stake body where the rear seat once was. Off we drove up through the orchard stopping at a quite young tree maybe 3 or 4 inches in trunk diameter just up from ground level. Hop down he said and take that broomstick handle and beat that tree trunk, all around it. I timidly hit at the trunk and he, very agitatedly, scolded me for my timidness and, with some strong language, urged me to be more aggressive which I was. The bark cracked in places which pleased him so we moved on to other trees of similar size and age where I applied my vigor to them and his pleasure.

On the ride back to his office in the storage barn Mr. Hampton explained the reason behind what we had just done. Fruit trees, like all living organisms, produce, when under stress, more flowers therefore more fruit which are the carriers of seeds. Seeds are the ultimate extenders of the species. Even in humans, stress in a sector of a society will increase the birth rate so that society will have a better chance to live on. Scarring the trunk was an early orchard man's way of tricking fruit trees to do his bidding. The scars healed and gave no lasting affect to the trees except getting them to produce earlier and in more abundance. 

"Spare the rod, spoil the child" rings yet in my ears.

Ronald C. Downie

Living Longer

The scientific community must be crazy thinking a guy like me should live decades longer just because they've isolated a gene or two that will give me replacement organs for those I've worn out. Hell, I've already out lived many of my buddies that I grew up with. 

We were from that generation just post depression, pre- WW2. That generation that was too young for a big war- too old for the next, some undeclared conflict. We were big on butter and lard, on hotdogs and bacon, on cigarettes and booze, on drive-in-movies and drag racing; yea, we rarely took care of ourselves.

Maybe, I've outlasted my friends because of my ancestral genes. Genes that were nurtured in the rugged upslopes of Scottish Highlands covered in heather and free range game. Did genes gain their grit from tossing of the caber or wielding a broad sword ? Or could it be from eating oatmeal and haggis a diet my ancestors cut their teeth on, that produced these genes I possess.

No, most likely it is by chance that I'm here instead of them. Probably it is because of my wife, Constance, who is my caregiver, the mother of our two daughters and a son, the keeper of the homestead, and she remains today the earner in the family. She keeps stresses to a minimum as those who know her will attest to. Please, I'm no candidate for longevity, neither by chance nor choice, so I'm here until I expire from normal causes.

Ronald C. Downie

Wedge Issues

Way back then, mid 1940's, post WW2, Ringing Hill.
Here from hills overlooking Harmonyville, Chester Co.

Moved into our new two story home on N. Keim St.
Early spring before leaves unfolded summer's form.

A wooded lot demands certain tools for groomin :
An ax for sure, a grind stone to sharpen it, a saw, 

Not any old saw, a man's saw, well really, a two man
Saw to fell tall trees blocking out all the sun light.

Dad had a garden in mind and gardens need sunshine
And he'd have sun no matter what. "Timber" echoed 

That spring. Save the house, save the chicken pen 
Turned into our tool shed, don't drop it on the car.

Gathering more tools for the job, Dad read about 
Felling trees the proper way. Sight the desired drop

Line, notch the tree trunk with an axe two foot up 
From the ground anticipating the path tree is to fall.

A two man saw takes team work, once started each
person manning opposed ends must only pull the saw 

To them and relax when your team mate pulls back.
Pushing back is a no-no and only causes buckling up.

It's called pinching when the weight of the tree 
Exerts down pressure on saw blade stopping sawing.

Then a wedge must be inserted in the cut to spread
The saw line gap so pinching stops, cutting continues.

Those wedge issues were simple compared to today's.
Politicians try to spread citizens apart over hotly 

Contested topics : abortion, contraceptives, taxes,
Gay rights, segregation, wealth disparity, and debt.

The wedge to the tree was for a corrective action ;
For politicians, wedge issues are designed cancerous,

They are to slowly fester while gathering up speed 
To do the most harm, monkey wrenches of discontent.

When a tree falls its branches are removed first,
The trunk is cut up in lengths suitable for stacking,

Then stacked loosely so they dry out for more easy
Splitting into useable pieces, in our case was bon fires.

Summer memories were of Jersey relatives arriving
For vacations with tents tied to their old car roofs.

A sight similar to a religious tent meeting popped up  
In our wooded back yard, our vegetable garden used.

Rarely seen today would be a tent city sight, except
What we've all seen on television, viewing "Occupy" 

As well as me. Kindred spirited people are gatherin
Not unlike relatives did in my youth. The web of life.

A hunk of pie shaped iron, four inch tapering down to
A quarter inch a foot long, sledge hammered smartly 

Into a cut or later used to split the logs fire ready,
Is the main reason to have a wedge when logging.

The wedge is a very valuable tool to fell trees or split pieces for burning. Wedge issues are opposite.

They are surfaced to fell cooperation while splitting
The masses into rigid positions free of compromise.

Ronald C. Downie

Questions Seeking Answers

Before the pools of dementia become too deep for me to climb out of, I wish to record some thoughts itching to see daylight. On my mind is : is there any truth to the rumors going around about the real reason the Texas deceased Ebola patient was sent home from the hospital with a temperature of 103 degrees on his initial visit was because he had no health insurance coverage? If so, why wasn't this reported immediately ?If so, is this an indictment of just Texas's health system or our entire country's system ? May the truth have a chance to set all men free.

Ronald C. Downie

The Sage

Gran'Pa Downie was a wizened wise, old sage
Who's needs were few, his wants even less.
With a huge bald head, both forearms bowed,
His spine was so calcified it bent him forward
Making him unable to look up without sitting down.
His Scottish brogue, heavy RRRs, spoke of his birth.

His physical look was not him; he was truly a sage.
This ship's joiner, carpenter, traveled Cape Town,
South Africa to home port, Glasgow, Scotland.
His disfigured physical features developed from,
We thought, deficiencies in his diet during long
Trips at sea aboard tramp steamer cargo ships.

Is one born a sage or does it slowly develop 
Through adversity during a health decline ?
Or does Man temper, as steel from iron does,  
When it's super heated molecules implode   
Making them much stronger through firing ?  

From this sage we find his strength in words.
           Gran'Pa said : 
" A good job is it's own reward ."
" Please measure twice so you must cut just once ."
 "A job worth doing is a job worth doing well ."
 "I don't care ! " - "Just is not a good answer ."

For My Grandfather, Andy Grey Downie,
Love, Ronald C . Downie 

Introduction

Have you noticed the sun lowering in the sky daily ?
Colors become more pastel, like being washed out . 
Something again is happening in our World ,
Another new season approaches quickly upon us.
Nothing new , happens every year,
But do we really notice ? No ! Not really !
It takes something special, say like:

First Blizzard Of The Season

Relish the first blizzard of the season
Watch for swirls of yellow and brown ;
Autumn early seems the true reason 
All the lawns are covered in the town.

            It's a time when :

Damp mist steams up from the river,
Foot steps leave their prints in the dew. 
Morning sun gets red and redder,
Vast flocks fly all birds but a few.

Thin herringbone clouds stripe the sky,
Heading south geese V in a flock,
Crows land and depart with a cry.
Farmers watch weather like a clock.

Goldenrods garnish the meadows
Stately corn tans tall on the stalk,
In home gardens wilt the tomatoes,
Deep breaths smoke great puffs as we walk.

Pumpkin orange rough petal's fashion,
Straight up, smoke stretches chimneys tall.
Witch and goblin excite a child's passion.
Snowing down - leaves announce - Fall !

Ronald C . Downie 
  

Sonnet 28

Sherri's Force

When a loved one plants a lush garden scene
To capture life forces that tugs at the heart ;
Will a sharp spade edging arcs and curves mean
Same as a painter's brush for an artist's start :

Then, from the Good Earth : sun kissed, reaching, 
Elongating, branching, replicas drawn of eternity;
How many millennia stacked up to Heaven, seeking
Their chance to bust forth in color, cell's maternity :

And then, trimming and grooming, set and resetting
Creating a look pleasing to the minds eye and heart.
Complimentary to picture's size and shape getting
On to maturity, plants which grow love their start.

It's the artist in the planter, green of thumb, driven 
From Nature's depths creating scenes, she's given.

Ronald C. Downie

Sonnet 27

Notoriety 

Weighted with being my brother's keeper
I no longer am an independent 
Soul, free to be a just judgement seeker.
But now, the World's worst seeks my compliment:

Often we trade some notoriety 
For a chance to gain true independence.
Sun light shines as if it's prosperity
Is drawn from blessed Earth's true abundance:

Cashing in, calls forth a stalwart person,
Grounded in humility, a good soul.
"Many called; few taken." a sound reason
We trudge the land and we brave the wave's roll.

"To do for others what we want ourselves" -
Is a scene from history found on shelves.

Ronald C. Downie

Sonnet 26

The Emperor's Cloths

When an overwhelming argument must come out
To bolster an awfully weak set of made up facts,
A candidate must keep a straight face, no pout.
Voice must not quiver or sound lower, stage acts.

Then, if the voting public has bought into the guise 
An artful candidate, though deceitful, may survive.
Today's voters, under assault of Big Money, a prize
For billionaires, the difference, voters are yet alive.

And then, if the time comes to govern the country
A charlatan starts to show weakness of an ingrate.
Core convictions fail the test of governance, clumsily 
Undoing that which made this Country so very great.

Voting must be an effort to best educate yourself,
So you see through the Emperor, who cloths himself.

Ronald C. Downie

Sonnet 24

Into The Lamp Of History

When, onto the streets the massed disavowed march
From their "Occupy" camps into the lamp of history,
Their's is of every walk of life who carry the torch.
They make daily toil tribute to their work's mastery:

Then, they join in an echoing sound the massive choir
Assembled worldwide putting voice to the footsteps.
Unscripted, leaderless, message driven, forgiving prior
Allegiances to Madison Avenue's lusty driven preps :

And then, cracks within the cloistered Wall Street
Conclaves who hire blue coats for their protection.
Big money needs big results, billions verses speech ; 
Words tug at heart and mind gaining true affection.

"The die is cast", an overwhelming thought adopted 
By multitudes, succinct simplicity, never's co-opted.

Ronald C. Downie

Has the Occupy movement just dried up, ready to blow away into lost memory, or is its strength reconstituting underground, remaking itself into a new formidable power, ready again to challenge the wide World ?

Sonnet 23

Ideals From Ideas

When, from your basket of dreams you pull out
Thoughts from earlier years which laid out ideas
Not yet realized, sort of detoured, changed route.
Mentally churned many ideas mature into ideals :

Then, as always, years accumulate dimmed decades :
Raising family, building a career, avoiding ill health,
Hopefully attaining stature among piers. Accolades,
Anemic statements, bring neither health nor wealth :

And then, the grandeur of an aging mind brings hope.
Earlier thoughts incubated over many years surface
To format a lifetime of wants, ideals ready to cope.
Now, after winning the battle of time, we save face.

If not from our mental cauldrons where do ideals
Come from ? Ultimate importance churns from ideas.

Ronald C. Downie

Sonnet 22

When I Tremble

When I tremble under weight of reason
Built on strong earth pillars sunk hard rock deep.
I see a ship under sail in season,
Charting tight courses, me rocking to sleep :

A land lubber, I'm anchored to the Earth,
Have realized value of both sea and land
Beyond dreamt horizons cloaked in rough surf.
I envision Man's purpose as he planned :

Captains sail seas, generals rule the soil,
But, whose money's bet on the lost teachers
Who taught them, every one,"Blood, Sweat, and Toil"
Man's demons follow after lust's seekers.

Since, painting on cave wall days, Man's dark pasts
Are bathed in horror, Almighty's death masks.

Ronald C. Downie

Sonnet 21

Plumb Line 

When the line stretches taunt, perpendicular's set,
As the tapered pear like bob seeks Earth's heart.
Plumb is a desired need for any building plans met
To assure sturdy built structures from their start :

Then, if plumb, could skyscrapers rise as would Lego
Pieces quickly snapped in place by youngsters neat ?
Surely, foundations being set plumb allows the flow
Of upper stories safely built, above a busy street :

And then, when comfortable building walls erect.
We think of those who plan the future giving hope.
You are that person we look at, it's you we select,
You will be there, always giving strength to cope.

Growing strong through tough times tempers each
To check plumb lines, go forward, ready to reach.

Ronald C. Downie

Sonnet 20

Spiten Spittle

When readership expresses to little
Interest in my subject as written,
That my mouth drys up with wasted spittle,
I take some water, gargle, start spiten :

Then, access the topic again, rethink
My propositions, rewrite if I must.
It is the public who wishes to drink
From my word fountain; needed is their trust :

And then, when the steel of my conviction
Gains temper, hardens, and affirms my thought,
I write for self without old restriction
Between me and my reader, I am caught.

The World exists in spite of my being,   
I write for myself to find some meaning.

Ronald C. Downie