For dverse.
House sits within its moat of rain water
where the salamander lives
and running grass green
and the cowshed where the toad
swims under the door
and the veil of raindrops dripping
from the eaves dripping in the attic
and inside the windows
and the places where it bubbles
up through the floor.
House sits full of the smell of water
cool and cold and we listen
to the patter on glass the rattle
down chimneys feel the stones slip
into some other world of water
and watery things.
Night is deep and well-dark
ditch-full of rain and the crow wind
and when the light returns
in the grass running down the green path
water-running will be the ragged
ghostly procession of white agaric
water-gorged and tasteless.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
I feel cold and wet just reading this. I love the way you capture that flow of water and those bloated useless fungi finish it off perfectly.
It’s interesting in an ecological sort of a way, but yes, also cold and wet. And the funghi aren’t even poisonous, just unpleasant.
I love the way you describe the house with its water damage, but I think a place somewhat dryer is wished for…
Love how you included all those senses, that made me really feel waterlogged and smelling.
This sounds like a nightmare with only meager relief with the fungi at the end. Powerful atmosphere weaving.
Ah, don’t say that, Lisa! I’m living the dream!
Wrong dream 😉
Lovely in summer though 🙂
Most admirable how this works its way down the page to its “water-gorged and tasteless’ close. Great stuff, JD.
28 years ago, when we first bought our home, with it’s full basement, we constantly had flooding in the basement. We live at 1 foot above sea level, and water rules.After years of fighting it, we put in industrial sump pumps, and stayed dry for the last 20 years. Your piece is wonderful. I liked “night is deep and well-dark, ditch full of rain and the crow wind..” and “feel the stones slip into some other world of water.”
This is so engrossing Jane, made me feel soggy and chilled. Excellent piece. I am sharing this interesting fact today: A “Armillaria Ostoyae” mushroom, in the Malheur National Forest, in the Strawberry Mountains of eastern Oregon, was found to be the largest fungal colony in the world, spanning an area of 3.5 square miles (2,200 acres; 9.1 km2).
Wow, Jane – amazing, as always.
And, as I often do, I learned a new word from you: agaric
I so enjoy your poetry.
-David
Thank you, David. I must get this weather out of my brain, but it’s hard when it’s in your face 24 hours a day!
I cheated about the white agaric. They were growing in the grass all around the west side of the house until the deluge started a week ago and they’re all washed away now.
I don’t think I’ll be putting in an offer Jane.
Huge Hugs
Hello David! I imagine you have enough rain of your own without acquiring an unheated swimming pool in a field!
Oh dear, jane, this is so close to home! We had our first flood the year I retired from teaching, I remember the bubbling through the floor, and we’re still trying to erase the signs. We used to have newts and frogs, but a salamander would have made it more cheerful. The most evocative lines for me are:
‘House sits full of the smell of water
cool and cold and we listen
to the patter on glass the rattle
down chimneys…’
the Dylanesque:
‘Night is deep and well-dark
ditch-full of rain and the crow wind’
and the
‘ghostly procession of white agaric
water-gorged and tasteless.’
I think my porridge has curdled!
I’m sorry if it brought back unpleasant memories, Kim! We’ve slipped so far away from our notions of reasonable comfort that We’re getting used to is. The water through the tiles in the bedroom has gone down and we’re dry again though I don’t know why, since it is still pouring and outside is like the Passchendaele. Some happy law of hydrodynamics. I hope your house is water tight now!
I could hear echoes of Heaney, especially in that last stanza. Our bathroom is sprouting mushrooms at the moment, it’s unpleasant.
We’re not water animals and our belongings certainly don’t get on with wet conditions. It’s trying when the weather invites itself inside.
Yes, just a little 😬
This brings to mind when I was visiting a textile mill for the company that employed me at the time and found mushrooms growing on the rug in the motel room. It makes me feel creepily damp all over again. I hope you get a raft of sunny days soon! (K)
Thanks. It’s a structural problem, and in one way, it makes us feel more in tune with what’s going on outside. In another, it’s a way we’d rather not know about in that much detail!
There’s never a happy medium. It’s a myth.
Do you think the people who have got their house just where and how they want it, with the outside firmly outside and out of sight, and the central heating and air conditioning inside, are really as content with it as they claim? I reckon they can’t be, because they’re the people who change their kitchen and bathroom every couple of years.
They will never have enough.
I fear you’re right.
Lots of margins on this Earth, and cold and wet is tropical compared to abyssal vents or permafrost … hard to get to those places, but thanks for taking us two doors down below.
Yes, there’s always somebody getting it worse.
Absolutely marvellous
Thank you!
It’s a pleasure
xx
Oh so masterfully descriptive, even as I sit huddled inside my apartment listening to the sound of water dripping in your poem and “feel the stones slip/into some other world of water.” beautifully penned, Jane.
Thank you 🙂 We’re promised a string of rain-free days from tomorrow. I shall believe that when I see it…