Weightless, cloud, Ride
Don’t look down Marge, just don’t look down, she told herself as the men began to work on the ropes. Her hands gripped the railing, her knuckles white. I’m a television reporter. I can do this. One of the team standing nearby saw her face and called out.
“Hey lady, you look like you seen a ghost already!” Read the rest of this entry
Grace, Blue, Okefenokee
“The best survival kit in the world is right between your ears, son.” My father used to tell me as we slogged through knee-deep black water on one of our many hunting trips. He carried a small backpack, filled with things like waterproof matches he had made himself, a small jar of petroleum jelly and some cotton balls, Read the rest of this entry
Ocean, Glass, Pine cone. The cottage has been abandoned for years, no one is quite sure how many. Long enough that even the park rangers can’t remember who might have owned it. The sand has been bleached almost white, specks of darker rock and bits of shell blow in through the open window. Sea oats grow up the side of the sand dune and flourish in the sun and salt air.
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Snowmobile, Apple, Darkness
“The sweetest song is silence…that I’ve ever heard..funny how your feet..in dreams never touch the earth” (“These Dreams” by Heart)
Kate flew through the woods. A cloud of powdered snow kicked up by her skis caught her in the face, leaving icy crystals on her goggles and in her hair. She was listening to her favorites on the mp3 player as she went along. Right now the band Heart was playing and after that Roger Daltrey would scream “Who are you?” Read the rest of this entry
Lake, Truck, Cathedral
Lake Winnipesaukee was a few miles down the road from where I grew up. Whenever we went to Laconia we would drive along and then cross the lake. As a child I spent an awful lot of time watching the lake pass by from my backseat window. We swam, water-skied and boated on it in the summer; then we skated, fished and played hockey on it all winter. We took pictures of Lake Winnipesaukee all year-long, but most dramatically in the fall, of course. When the patchwork of color reflects back from the mirrored lake it’s exhilarating to see. Just thinking about it makes me want some hot apple cider with a cinnamon stick in it. I want to put some fluffy socks and a sweater on then curl up on the couch with a good book, but it‘s 90 degrees out and the humidity here in Georgia is about 83% today. Read the rest of this entry
Porch, Eagle, Binoculars
The old man sat in the old wooden rocker on his back porch all afternoon. His friends used to call him Red, due to the hair that used to grace the top of his head. It was mostly gone now, and what was left sure wasn’t red anymore. The friends were gone too, but he hardly cared about that. Red had a great backyard; it oversaw a small lake and part of a mountain range. Tango, North Dakota. About as far north in the USA as you can get without coming south again, he used to joke. You could hold a camera up out here and take a perfect picture without ever looking in the viewfinder. Read the rest of this entry
Howl, New England, Antique
She drove down the coast, looking at the scenery and listening to the radio. Autumn brought so many vivid colors to the New England coast, it was truly a blessing to drive along enjoying the bounty. A day spent in quiet reflection. Somedays she liked to just drive. No destination in mind, she would end up wherever she was and come back when she got ready to. There’s something warm and fuzzy about seeing the bright colors on the trees, scarecrows in overalls stuffed with straw on front porches and bright orange pumpkins on every step. Richly colored Indian Corn pinned to the front door of the antique shop on Main St. There were apples and jugs of cider for sale at every farm stand. Read the rest of this entry
Yellow, Mountain, Lipstick
There is a yellow scarf in that shop and I want it. Just, yellow. In an open air market in a large village in Africa. I forget the name. Elephants trumpet in the distance, the natives treat them like family. Monkeys chatter and scold from the nearby trees, fussing at the dogs and goats that come too close.
I sit and remove my straw hat, wiping my brow with a kerchief I keep in my pocket. Read the rest of this entry
Mountain, Pristine, Journey
The White Mountain Auto Road is only open a few months of the year. They don’t bill themselves as having “The World’s Worst Weather” for nothing. The conditions are so unpredictable that the road is only open from mid-May to mid-October. Usually. The road seems barely wide enough in places for two cars to pass, and the two car theory is particularly frightening when one of them is a big honkin’ SUV. Read the rest of this entry
Green, Boat, Sigh
A fairy named Daffodil looked out of her flower bed, smiling and picking pollen out of her hair. The stuff does tend to stick, doesn’t it? She wrapped the pollen in a soft green blade of grass and climbed onto the back of a large bumblebee.
“On we go then Zumble, let’s hit that daffodil over there.” The bee took off lazily, swooping left and right before he reached the flower. What a beautiful day for pollen duty, she thought. “Hey, you wanna go for a dip after we finish?” She asked Zumble. Zzz. “Ooh, I’ll take that as a yes!” She said laughing, as she slid off of his back. She spread the pollen around, gathered more from the flower and loaded it into the leaf. Read the rest of this entry