“Rat Ripple-down—Part Two”

  The second impact for us on removing the pond out back came with a new garden out front. The fountain, a cheerful fairy, needed a different location. We hauled huge rocks from our cabin in Leakey, purchased a new bird bath, and wheelbarrowed the fairy to a spot to show her off  to our neighbors. No longer tucked into the backyard for my personal joy, she sits encircled by rocks and flowers for all to see.

I decided this spot would display colorful annuals that I’d change by grabbing whatever caught my fancy when shopping at local nurseries (or sometimes the grocery store).  It’s fun selecting blooms that fit my mood and budget. Unlike the perennials I long to place in the new spot out back, I want this smaller garden to change  multiple times each year. 

The simple enjoyment of pulling into the driveway to blooms and blossoms is a wonderful ripple down to our rat solution. I miss the serenity of the pond out back, but it’s tied to memories of Koi drinking from the fairy bowl. Her new role as a planter shifts my grief to a celebration of life simply moving forward. 

2025

2026

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

IOUNIO's "Shadows in My Veins"

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“Rat Ripple-down— Part One”

Several years ago, a bold family of roof rats invaded our home. A combination of live traps and baited boxes outside eventually took care of them, but our exterminator warned that the pond out by our kitchen wall  probably drew them to that part of the house. He advised us to remove the fountain and pond. While doing that, he suggested we double check the back wall for entry areas and seal everything off. Our successful efforts shifted us into a roof rat free home as we’ve made it several seasons without sighting a single brown nose!

We removed the pond lining and spent last summer filling the area with bag after bag of soil. I couldn’t decide what to plant into the new area and tossed wildflower seeds that like shade over the ground a few weeks ago. I picked up some lily bulbs, too. The packs were a random assortment of types and colors. The first bloom, white, sat perfect and pretty in at the edge of where our old pond once rested. A couple of days later, a sunny yellow blossom danced in the morning breeze. 

     I focus on the positive growth losing the pond brings to that section of yard. As this spring moves to summer, fall, and winter, I’ll plant other kinds of bulbs into the fertile area. I’ll remind myself that change can be good, even when it was unwanted.

Copyright 2026 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

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“Could’ve, Would’ve, Should’ve

 

            We have a defunct hot tub out back that forced me over the last few months to go through a “could’ve, would’ve should’ve” routine. Calls to several removal companies for bids left me questioning spending a lot of money to remove something because a part of me then feels like I’m not gaining anything but space. The cost, too, would make a huge dint out of the funds I’d allocated for my yards and gardens. I could open up the space, but it would remain an ugly, empty space until next year.
            In a more secure financial year, I would’ve replaced the hot tub with a new model. I would’ve shopped around and indulged in something new and fancy. The decrepit hot tub would’ve been carted away as part of the purchase deal. Of course, I would’ve taken on a new debt, too, at a time when job security and economic safety seems uncertain.
            So I settled on my “should’ve” possibilities. I should view the decrepit hot tub with a different eye. Further research showed how to convert it into a raised garden, a lounge area, or even a pond. Although these ideas should fit into our budget easily, I decided to dive into the easiest option—storage! Like most people, we have items that we don’t use, but may eventually need. When we replaced our floors with tile, we had several boxes left over that shifted from the garage to being stored under an old desk covered with tarps. Various art projects left us with wood and cuts of PVC. I dove under the tarps of two old desks to reveal odds-n-ends that we don’t use frequently, but still want to keep.  
            I should’ve known that this solution—storage-- turned into a simpler task than all of the other possibilities. I cleaned the hot tub interior, hauled and organized various items into its wells, and barely tapped into the space. As I clean, clear, and shift items from the garage and various bins out back, I’ll reorganize with an eye of shifting things into the hot tub.
            I should’ve known that sometimes the most obvious solution is the best one. My ugly hot tub received a much need coat of paint and we covered it with a new tarp to keep it water tight. Instead of removing it, or replacing it, we’re embracing it.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman        

 

           

"The Reason for the Season"

 

Showering those you love with acceptance       

Holding tenderness within your heart       

Surrounding yourself with kindred spirits       

Collecting diversity to honor and cherish       

Fostering creativity, individuality       

Nurturing peace, grace, dignity       

Protecting humanity       

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Flaming Liberal"

David Chapman-artist

 

Hair afire   

eyes ablaze      

bleeding heart worn on my sleeve        

believing in changing my world      

one deed at a time        

hands open in kindness    

soul accepting alternatives      

mind embracing the strength of diversity     

 

Hair afire     

eyes ablaze   

bleeding heart worn on my sleeve      

expecting chivalry and honor       

even among the thieves      

hands sustaining the destitute      

soul offering them hope       

mind implementing the strategies of success        

 

Hair afire     

eyes ablaze      

bleeding heart worn on my sleeve     

acknowledging the flaws     

within the order    

hands mending the tears     

soul nursing lost courage      

mind deciphering the woes of our world

      

Hair afire    

eyes ablaze  

bleeding heart worn on my sleeve     

ignoring taunts and insults     

from conformists      

hands reaching for harmony    

soul seeking tolerance     

mind exploring multiple paths for our destiny   

     

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Full Circle"

The week began with a mother lost   
her children writing of beauty and peace   
sharing private moments of tenderness   
bringing in light, grace and acceptance   
listening for the music of the eternal last dance   
The week ended with a mother found   
joyously announcing their future   
sharing with anticipation     
the possibilities of parenthood   
listening for the music of a child    

Copyright 2011 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Bracken"

 I stood back from the edge

            Expert hands

                        direct my legs through the harness

                        check the hooks

                        pull hard against

                                    the rope

The others wait in nonchalance

            Their laughter

                        spilling around me

                        diving into deeper darkness

                        “Test your weight”

I scoot to the ledge

            my hands grasp

                        the rope

                        TIGHT           

My legs sway free

            feet—

                        butting against the cavern wall

                        repelling me

                                    Outward

                                    Into Space

I look down

            my helmet’s light beam

                        bounces—

                                    off rock

                                    disappears—

                                                into the black void

            Suspended in space and time

I feel

            the rope

            make certain the hooks don’t bite my fingers

                        inches

                                    FEET

                                                YARDS

Above me glimmers a pinprick of light

            Shadow embraces me like a long lost lover

I surrender

            to emptiness

            swaying on

                        the rope

                                    I embrace

                                                its braided strength

                                    I accept

                                                its infallibility

                                    I believe

                                                it won’t let me fall

My feet land in moon dust

            expert hands

                        unbuckle the hooks

                        direct my legs through the harness

                        pull hard against

                                    the rope

Bracken Cave Texas

Copyright 1998 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

“The American Tragedy”

 

            Another day of death in the US. As of this morning, more than three-thousand American citizens have died from gun violence within the last twenty-five days. No one speaks about the 1,716 suicides already in CDC record books. Forty mass shootings along with six mass murders skyrockets our death rate to unspeakable levels. Gun violence since the beginning of 2023 has left another 2,250 injured.

            But we’ve got fucking “thoughts and prayers” to speed us through the stages of grief that dog our lives daily. We race, as a nation, though Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance within hours of the latest killings. One scene reporters offer proper indignation as law enforcement representatives recount another atrocity that should propel us into anger and action, but doesn’t.  Memorials spring up within hours. Maybe if we rush through to Acceptance we can avoid the tremendous losses each family faces—injuries that may require lifelong medical needs. The death of your friends, your brothers and sisters, your parents, your spouses, your children wrapped up and tucked away within a news cycle because it repeats again tomorrow.     

https://www.gunviolencearchive.org/

 

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Death"

She silently slipped into my room

            bringing night’s enveloping velvet blackness

                        in her sunken eyes and raven hair

Her hands reached out for mine

            coaxing me to dance with her

                        along that icy rim of eternity

My head felt heavy upon my pillow

            My arms and legs merged into my bed

                        immobile and leaden

Her breath poisoned the air

            seeping into my lungs with molten heat

                        chilling my blood into a sluggish, frozen river

I turned my eyes away

            staring fixedly into myself

                        Yet she was there

                        Empty and hollow

                        a void—nothing

            and I moved toward her

            even as I moved away

she whispered words I could not hear

            and yet I did her bidding

sobbing for days

            Until my eyes ached red and dry

            and my heart bled into

                        itself

            wracking my body with unreal pain

                        no one but she understood

I fought to escape

            turning to flee

                        with nowhere to go

She stood before me, beside me, behind me

                        within me

Then I heard

            faint and distant

                        a trill of laughter

                                bubbling and rippling through the starless night

            an intermingling of voices

                        high and low—calling my name

                                    giving me direction

                                                away, away

I pulled myself away from her deathly dance

            Yanked myself out of her clutching grasp

                        moved toward the golden sounds

                                    of love and light

She followed me

            she stayed with me

                        now and forever

I sense her presence

know the sound of her footfall

            instinctively sniff the air for her scent

                        careful and cautious

She still wants me

            her pull and determination both suck me into her orbit

                        and repel me with horror

            But those voices of laughter

                        with the eyes of sunlight

                                    and smiling mouths of delight

                        carry a stronger current

They always rescue me

Take me where she cannot reach me

            protect me for a little while

                         . . . love me

Copyright 1999 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman