Rain

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Everywhere could be herd the tinkle of dripping, running water.  It was an amazing sound after weeks of drought, bringing all the residents of the small village outside.  They danced, running and skipping, twirling with hands upraised.  Young children sat in mud puddles splashing, delighting in the spray of water.

“Was, I not right?”  Ellie asked looking out the open door at the rain soaked fields.

“Yes, you were.  Your weather sense is better than the forecaster’s.”  Tom said coming up behind his wife, relief evident on his face, as he looked out at his saved crops.

Some Days

Some days the inspiration and motivation to write just isn’t there.  For the last week I have been dealing with a nasty head cold, not really feeling like doing much of anything.  In between napping on the couch and sleeping I have managed to write a bit, take care of the dogs a bit and even managed to wash a few dishes and by the weekend I was starting to feel better.

Not wanting to slow down the return to good health, I proposed the idea of canceling any obligations for the weekend and spend Saturday and Sunday resting.  My loving husband agreed and the two of settled in for a weekend of hibernation, we watched Les Miserables, excellent movie, played with the dogs and spent some time on the computer.  It seemed to work as I woke up Monday morning feeling much improved and then ran smack into the Monday – I don’t want to work – attitude of it was a good weekend and I don’t want it to end.

What to do?  When I sat done to write I ended up doodling on the notepad I keep on my desk next to my computer, nothing clever or even artistic, just random squiggles and partial sketches.  Not finding any inspiration there, I googled inspirational sayings and spent some time what others have written and posted and found one that spoke to the mood I was in.

“You may be disappointed if you fail, but you are doomed if you don’t try.”

–Beverly Sills

Aha, I found the spark I needed to get me going and spent the afternoon working on my novel.  I even pulled up a short story I haven’t worked on all winter, deciding it was time to finish it.  It ended up not being an overly productive day, but a satisfying one. 

Some days the inspiration and motivation isn’t there and you have to go looking for it, searching until you find it.

Story Day

Friday is going to be new story day!  Every Friday, excluding any vacations I may be lucky enough to be on, I will write and post a 100-word story.

I have found writing them to be fun and a great way to jumpstart my writing for the day.

Enjoy!

Signs Of Spring

The sound of rumbling engines filled the air and she looked up from the flowerbed she was cleaning up.  Just a week ago the last of the snow had melted away.  After the long winter there was work to be done tidying up the yard and gardens before the first plants poked their new growth out of the soil.

She watched as hundreds of motorcycles passed by in neat rows of two, a welcomed sign spring was here to stay.  The local enthusiasts took to the road in the chilly air of mid-April celebrating the beginning of another riding season.

Introspection

I finished my 100 days of 100-word stories challenge a little over a week ago.  At first I felt a bit lost.  It seemed strange to not have to plan out the time to sit down, write the story and post it.  It sort of reminded me of the first day of summer vacation when I was a child.  I would wake up, not to an alarm or my mother’s call, but when I woke up.  As the grogginess of sleep faded from my mind the realization of no commitments, no obligations, no schedule other then what I set for myself would take root and I would luxuriate in the moment of freedom.  Only to be stunned by the very next thought of, okay what am I going to do today?

When I was a child the answer was easy, spend as much of the day outside as I could.  At this point in my life the answer is a bit more complicated.  There are obligations, responsibilities and goals to achieve, and even though I still want to spend as much time as possible outside, I have found I work best, as I suspect most people do, with a routine and a schedule, an expected flow to the day. 

As children our routines and schedules are imposed on us, teaching us the daily routine of taking care of ourselves.  As we transition into adulthood we are expected to develop the ability to generate, plan and execute our own schedules, to take care of business, otherwise known as being responsible.  And yet it is good on occasion to take time out of our adult lives to sit back and take stock of where we are at and where we are going.

For the past week I have spent some time sorting though my goals, both personal and professional, along with spending time with two of my granddaughters and dog sitting for my daughter and her husband.  I came to realize I, too often, spend my days floundering without direction, allowing each day to unfold in an aimless fashion similar to wandering a path through the woods without thought to where it might lead.  There is this vague sense of heading somewhere, of accomplishing something, but in hindsight there is the realization of a day spent getting nowhere, of doing nothing.

Time to put an end to the drifting, let’s see where the wind blows me, days and make something happen.  Time to make the commitment to get things done, to just do it. Climb the mountain, plant the garden, find a better job, or finish the novel.  Set the goal, make the plan and follow through with it. 

Dogs Share

The other day I gave both of my dogs a Kong toy with a treat stuffed inside to keep them occupied for a bit.  

Bella the black lab / golden retriever mix was given the smaller of the two toys and in no time figured out how to get the treat by tossing it up in the air and letting it drop on the floor until it popped out.  

Bruno was given the larger one and admittedly the harder one to get the treat out of.  He laid down and started working away at the opening trying to lick the treat out with his tongue.

Once Bella was done with her treat she started to harass him, trying to steal his away from him.  He responded in typical dog fashion and I had to step in to get her to leave him alone.  After the scolding the two lay on the floor in peaceful harmony with Bruno sort of working on the Kong toy and sort of resting his paw on it as if to say this in mine.

Soon Bella was whining, her head down on the floor and scooting on her belly inch by inch toward Bruno.

Then Something I have never seen before happened.  Bruno stood up, picked up his Kong and gently offered it to Bella.  She put her mouth on it very carefully and for a few seconds the two of them sat there holding it together, then Bruno let go and turned away.  It was as if she was saying "Please, Please, Please"  and he responded with sure, here you go.  Then they laid down by each other, content with life.

Customer Service

The bell over the shop door rang announcing a customer as a carefully groomed elderly woman assisted by her cane stepped over the threshold. 

“Welcome.”  The young clerk said from behind the counter.

She approached the display case and examined the delectable chocolate treats displayed within.

“May I help you?”

“Yes, my first great-great granddaughter was born two days ago and I would like to send something to the new parents.  My granddaughter is allergic to flowers so I was thinking some truffles would be nice.”

“A wonderful idea.  I will be happy to gift wrap the box for you.” 

The last story.

I’ve reached the end of the race, accomplished my goal, met the challenge I set for myself, now what?

At every ending there is a moment of celebration, sometimes quiet and personal, such as when a book is finished, sometimes with loud cheering, as the winning goal is scored. 

Once the celebration is over, a vague restlessness begins to creep into the mind and body, a sense of needing something to do.  This can’t be the end, there has to be more and then the light goes on.  Yes, there is more, another mountain to climb, another race to run and another challenge to meet.

Thank you to everyone who took time out of their day to read my twenty-second stories.  I hope you enjoyed reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them.  For now I am going to take some time away from my blog, at least a few days to sort out what comes next, while I work on finishing my first novel.

Here is a conceptual cover and working title:

 

Collaborating Evidence

A dark shadow, one of many filling the spaces between the trees and under the shrubs to either side of the path, seemed to slip along beside them as they walked.  Overhead branches reached across the open space seeking what sunlight there was, their leaves changing from green above to almost black in the dense woods.  Under foot encroaching grasses choked the dirt ruts hiding the old logging road from all but the most observant traveler.

“You sure this is the way?”

“Yes, Tom gave me clear directions to where he was certain he saw Bigfoot.  Keep the camera ready.”

Today's story was inspired by the lovely Bella, a black lab/golden retriever mix, who has come to live with us.  Bella is a year old, so she isn't the cute, cuddly puppy in the story, instead she is an elegant, silky black dog with lots of energy.  A perfect companion for our current dog, Bruno.  The two of them have already enjoyed a couple of romps in the deep snow in our back yard.

A New Home

The neighbor’s black lab had puppies and Ben spent as much time as he could at Mrs. Simon’s house helping take care of them.

Seven black puppies and one yellow.  In his heart he named the yellow one Jack.  In his mind they went on all kinds of adventures together.

One day Mrs. Simon called Ben’s parents.  She spoke to them about how good Ben was with the puppies and how she had one without home. 

How could they resist?  They called Ben down stairs and shared the news; Jack the yellow puppy would be coming to live with them.

A Farmer's Gamble

He stepped out on the deck, inhaling deeply.  Over night a soaking rain had fallen washing away the dust and bringing much needed moisture to the thirsty plants.  It was with relief he looked out over his cornfields.  He had started to worry as the dry spell lingered and the leaves drooped. 

Another timely rain like the night before would see him through the growing season and reassure him of the possibility of a high yield.  A good harvest this year would allow him to help his daughter with college tuition and maybe take his wife on a much-desired vacation.

Neighbors

Exhausted, Hank stumbled into the house.  What was he thinking going out in the storm?  The rain, falling in torrents, was driven sideways by the wind.  Trees were down and the electricity was out.  He was lucky neither lightening nor falling debris hit him. 

What was he thinking?  He was thinking about the new neighbors, a young couple moved out into the country from the city for the fresh air. 

It turned out to be a good thing, his going over to check on them.  A ruptured gas line had filled their house leaving them on the verge of asphyxiation.

Cabin Fever

“What are we going to do today?”

“Hmmm.”

“Seriously, what are we going to do?  I have the day off and I really want to do something.”

“We could catch the new movie this afternoon.”

“I don’t feel like sitting inside.  I feel like doing something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, but something fun, something different.”

Carmen looked out the window into the backyard.  Piles of snow covered everything giving the impression that spring would never come.

“I know, let’s go to the park, to the conservatory.  We can stroll among the plants and flowers forgetting about winter for awhile.”

It is hard to believe I have only six more days of this writing challenge left.  I remember when I started this back in the beginning of December.  The end seemed so far away and I had my doubts about being able to pull it off.  There was the holidays to get through with all the social commitments and family functions as well as shopping, baking and cleaning, a crazy, busy time of year.

After the first of the year there was a baby shower to host and a vacation to get ready for.  I thought the hardest part would be following though on writing and posting a story while on a cruise.  It was the first time I have ever brought work with me on vacation and, yet, it didn't really feel like work.  It provided a small break in the day, an opportunity to create and reflect.

At the end of our trip we found out our son's baby had decided to come early which led to a hurried trip home and time spent supporting the new parents as they stepped into parenthood.  I thought posting a daily story from a cruise ship was going to be challenging, but during this period of time I almost called it quits.  I am glad I didn't.  It was tough, mostly because I would get home in the evening exhausted and wanting nothing more than to curl up on couch and eat ice cream.

It is just in the last week I have felt my life has settled back into a somewhat normal routine and rhythm, providing me with the time to do more than just write my twenty second story for the day.  Things like work on my book, its three/fourths done, catch a movie with my husband, and play with our dog.

Hopefully this calm will last through the next six days before the next bit of craziness comes knocking on my door.

Personal Demons

She sat in the lobby with her hands folded in her lap, her back straight and her purse positioned just so on the floor next to her foot.  She kept her expression neutral and composed, a deceptive mask hiding her racing pulse. 

The interview was scheduled for eleven o’clock.  She arrived fifteen minutes early, giving her the opportunity to focus on the relaxation techniques she had learned.

“Ms. Pearson will see you now.”

She took a calming breath and stood up.  So far.  So good.  It seemed she would be able to keep her personal demons under control this time.

Noises

A low rumble permeated the house.

“What’s that?”  She asked looking up from her book.

Her dog, which moments ago had been sprawled out on his side sleeping, had his head up and his ears forward.

“Woof!”  He voiced his alarm and stood up.  He walked to the door and looked out the side window.

The rumbling faded away only to return moments later.

She set her book down on the coffee table and got up from the couch.  She peered out into the dark and with a laugh she patted her guardian as her brother plowed her snow-covered driveway.

The Art Of Waiting

“Okay, everyone.  Listen up.”  Bill said to the crowd waiting in the café, which doubled as the area’s bus terminal.  “The 940 bus from Duluth, scheduled to be here at eleven, is delayed.”

Groans could be heard from several of the customers waiting to board the bus when it stopped on its way to St. Paul.

“ Quiet down.  It’s simply a flat tire.  Ed will have it changed in no time and we will get you on your way.”

Around the room people turned back to their tables signaling for more coffee well versed in the art of waiting.

Too Much Too Do

Lisa entered the apartment building laundry room in a rush.  She lifted the lid of the washing machine exposing the load of clean towels pressed against the sides of the tub before yanking open the dryer door and pulling out dry clothes to stuff in her basket. 

She tugged wet towels free and flung them into the dryer and turned the knob to start.

It had been a struggle to finish before the landlord locked the door, but with one load left to dry she would make it and not have to leave her things in the laundry room overnight.

Free Spirit

Nothing made her happier than squishy mud between her toes.  She stamped her bare feet sending droplets of muddy water flying and splattering along the edge of the puddle. 

The storm had moved on leaving an immense rainbow arcing overhead and the muddle puddle at the bottom of the hill where the neighbor’s driveway met up with the road.

She couldn’t resist the urge to run and jump and play alongside the boys as they splashed and cavorted soaking each other from top to bottom.

Her mother thought she was still inside playing quietly with her dolls and staying dry.

Brotherly Love

“Hurry up!”

“Keep up, if you want to go.”

Sally nodded as the three of them hurried through the cornfield.  It had become a rite of passage for the kids in the community to sneak up to the Anderson farmhouse, knock on the door and flee into the night before the old man stormed out shotgun in hand.

They arrived at the farmyard.

“Go on then.  Do it.”

She moved up to the door.  He was waiting ready to catch whoever came.  She screamed bringing her brothers laughing at her fright over the scarecrow they had placed on the porch.