Write about: the revival.
Because I had to light the fireplace this morning, it was so bloody chilly in the house. Had really hoped we were past that by now.
Made some progress in the garden today with weeding and mulching. Would have rather been planting tomatoes out, but the weather has decided we'll be doing that next week instead.
Right now I'm just hoping the forecast for Saturday drastically improves, otherwise we might be skipping the market. Which would suck, considering how many seedlings we still have to sell.
It grew cold from neglect, forgotten as the heat of summer made spring promises we should not have believed. An obstacle in the midst of our home, its accoutrements potential hazards for a baby learning to crawl. Nothing more.
But one night the cold within was matched by the cold without. We came shivering before it, begged forgiveness as its doors creaked open. We filled it with paper and wood, making assurances that it would not be ignored so eagerly again.
It grumbled, breathed black smokey threats. Turned away from our entreaties and refused to perform its usual duties. The cold settled into the walls, into our bones. Panic slipped through the cracks around the doors and grasped at our ankles.
But at last the fire caught and warmth was restored, one burning log at a time.
All right, I simply could not resist Greg's suggestion in the comments yesterday. You are, for the sake of today's writing, a member of a band named Damaging Winds and your first album, Chance of Large Hail, is about to be released. Write something inspired by this scenario - the lyrics to one of the songs, a concert review, an album release party scene...
Okay, now I'm just listing all the things I considered for mine. I'll just leave you guys to it.
Pretty miserable day here, weather wise. So I spent a good chunk of the morning in the greenhouse counting tomato plants, trying to figure out if we have enough of each variety potted up. Hopefully tomorrow will decide to return our sunshine to us.
Damaging Winds Concert Cancelled Due To Light Breeze
Last night's highly anticipated performance by fast-rising stars Damaging Winds ended before a single note could reach the local airstream. Stadium officials were forced to give ticket holders the cold front less than an hour before the opening act was set to hit the stage.
"We were concerned for the safety of both our performers and their fans," one official later told reporters. "When the crowds were first informed of the unfortunate news the barometer was definitely rising outside the gates. We feared a riot was on the verge of manifesting, but thankfully cooler heads prevailed."
"Obviously this was a disappointing turn of events," lead singer Kevin "Cloud Burst" Thompson said in a released statement. "But we will return to make up this date later in the year, and me and the boys are looking forward to getting our meridional flow on with our stormy fans."
Write two haiku about something or someone: energetic.
Our farm intern's daughter is surely somehow related to the Energizer Bunny.
Our plant sale this afternoon, which we actually bothered to advertise in the local paper, was much more successful than I had any right to expect it to be. My meager predictions were due mostly to the windstorm that nearly blew the tent off our deck while we were trying to setup.
Not to mention the weather forecast which called for a chance of 'large hail and damaging winds'.
But people came out and bought plants and I was very relieved that all our efforts to prepare for the sale were not wasted.
All that is greater
than her energy are all
the stories she tells.
* * *
So full of buzzing
energy he never sleeps;
damn that lightning strike.
Write about: weariness.
Max had a slightly better sleep last night, though he's still, like his parents, struggling with his cold. Very much looking forward to everyone being healthy and sleeping reasonable lengths of time again.
Managed to get our entire potato crop in the ground today, with lots of much appreciated help. Here's hoping this year features weather that is actually conducive to a happy production of spuds.
His movements are slow and heavy, as though the bones within his body are gaining weight with each passing moment. This struggle has demanded a punishing payment but still he pays it. As though he has no choice in the matter... which is only partially true.
A rest would help. The relief of sleep, of allowing his aching, throbbing muscles to pause in their labours, could make all the difference. But he is afraid.
Afraid that stopping would lead to paralysis. That the inertia would be insurmountable. That this battle would be irreversibly lost. And he is unwilling to admit defeat, despite the mounting evidence which suggests that victory is unattainable.
So he continues on. Slowly, slowly, but still he continues on.
Write about: echoes.
Today was a day off in name only, as I ended up getting very little rest. Kat was in class for most of it so I was in charge of Max during that time, and after a night of not much sleep (I'm awake! Time to try crawling again! I'm so close! What? No, I don't want to go back to sleep... why do you ask?) he wasn't in the best of moods.
Oh well. Here's hoping for a better sleep for everyone tonight and then a good morning of planting potatoes tomorrow.
She is gone,
But I cannot miss her;
Like a burn
Living within a blister,
She is here,
Near me evermore,
I have no answer for.
In the night
There is no silence;
Her words live,
Edged by rage or kindness.
I hear them
In streets and in meadows;
I must heed
These unending echoes.
Write a four line poem about: waiting.
Had a pretty successful first farmers market of the year, despite the cold and sprinkles of rain and a very quiet start to the morning. Sold a whole bunch of plants, quite a bit of rhubarb, and... no greeting cards. Which is fine, card sales tend to pick up quite a bit in tourist season.
Katherine and Max remained home while I brought our farm intern and her daughter to help me at the market. But if the weather is nice next week the whole family will be there which, if today was any indication, will make a lot of people very excited.
The whistle sounds,
The market opens.
Will customers come?
I'm sure hopin'!
Write four lines of prose about: the inevitable.
Do you ever get a word stuck in your head and you end up using it over and over again, either in your thoughts or out loud, or both? Well I do, and inevitable was today's word.
I imagine making it a prompt isn't going to help any.
Heading back to the market in the morning, to sell plants and rhubarb and greeting cards. Fingers crossed the rain will leave us alone.
The destination awaits our arrival. We may get there early, we may be late, but it knows we will reach its murky shores one way or another. There can be no other ending to our story.
But still we fight as though another option existed.