The exercise:
Our writing today shall revolve around the word: skittish.
Summer has apparently arrived in Osoyoos. It was supposedly 32 today (felt hotter than that) and the forecast is calling for 36 tomorrow.
I do believe I hear the beach calling my name...
Mine:
There are a very small number of things that I can trust without hesitation in this world. Beyond what follows, I view everything with suspicion and doubt. It's not an easy way to live, but it's allowed me to get this far.
Firstly, I know that any wind strong enough to bend a pine tree to the point that it is parallel to the horizon is one that requires shelter be sought immediately.
Secondly, if a man has enough liquor in him he will believe himself invincible.
I make absolutely certain that I never consume to this point, no matter how safe the situation appears. Especially in those moments when all seems well.
And finally, should my trusted horse Crimson become skittish I know, without the smallest shadow of a doubt, that Trouble has saddled up and is on its way to my door.
Saturday June 29th, 2013
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about something (or someone?) that is: off-limits.
Good day at the market. We sold out of the last 160 pounds of cherries we were able to salvage from the rain, as well as the shelling peas, raspberries, cabbage (all two heads of it), Moroccan mint and peppermint plants, and finally sold the last of the cinnamon basil plants that we had.
I even sold five (I think - I'm getting quite terrible at keeping track) of my greeting cards.
The last hour and a quarter before closing was pretty quiet, which was kind of nice. As long as I don't think about how much more we could have sold if we'd had additional cherries and raspberries and shelling peas...
Anyway. It was another good market.
Mine:
Unless, my dear child,
You wish for me to slaughter
Your parents and pets,
Keep your hands off my daughter.
Write a four line poem about something (or someone?) that is: off-limits.
Good day at the market. We sold out of the last 160 pounds of cherries we were able to salvage from the rain, as well as the shelling peas, raspberries, cabbage (all two heads of it), Moroccan mint and peppermint plants, and finally sold the last of the cinnamon basil plants that we had.
I even sold five (I think - I'm getting quite terrible at keeping track) of my greeting cards.
The last hour and a quarter before closing was pretty quiet, which was kind of nice. As long as I don't think about how much more we could have sold if we'd had additional cherries and raspberries and shelling peas...
Anyway. It was another good market.
Mine:
Unless, my dear child,
You wish for me to slaughter
Your parents and pets,
Keep your hands off my daughter.
Friday June 28th, 2013
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the mistress.
Collected a whole lot of snow and shelling peas, 19 pints of raspberries, a couple heads of green cabbage, and a little bit of rhubarb for the market tomorrow. Taking the last of the cherries with us as well so it should be a good one, especially with it being a long weekend.
Also? Bringing a pint of blackcurrants. We only have two plants, and I was really just picking them to give to Kat's mom. But she somehow convinced me to bring them tomorrow to try to sell them, because 'Someone might want them!'
Which is fine.
But I have absolutely no idea how much to charge for them.
Oh well, if nobody buys them I'll just bring them back home and Kat's mom can make jam out of them.
Mine:
In the early morning light she moves through the empty apartment on bare feet, her t-shirt falling just short of her knees. Though there are no other occupants, nor are any expected to arrive before nightfall, she feels unwelcome, unwanted.
Not by him, of course.
But by the other woman in his life, the one that, sooner or later, she must face.
Write four lines of prose about: the mistress.
Collected a whole lot of snow and shelling peas, 19 pints of raspberries, a couple heads of green cabbage, and a little bit of rhubarb for the market tomorrow. Taking the last of the cherries with us as well so it should be a good one, especially with it being a long weekend.
Also? Bringing a pint of blackcurrants. We only have two plants, and I was really just picking them to give to Kat's mom. But she somehow convinced me to bring them tomorrow to try to sell them, because 'Someone might want them!'
Which is fine.
But I have absolutely no idea how much to charge for them.
Oh well, if nobody buys them I'll just bring them back home and Kat's mom can make jam out of them.
Mine:
In the early morning light she moves through the empty apartment on bare feet, her t-shirt falling just short of her knees. Though there are no other occupants, nor are any expected to arrive before nightfall, she feels unwelcome, unwanted.
Not by him, of course.
But by the other woman in his life, the one that, sooner or later, she must face.
Thursday June 27th, 2013
The exercise:
Write about: the spray.
This evening I went out and took care of all the weeds that were hassling our cabbage plants. Then I gave the plants an organic spray to help them fend off potential pests.
Felt rather productive, really.
I think we're getting close to being on top of the weeds again. The garden is looking much better than it did a week or so ago, at any rate.
Mine:
It clings to me
Like a bothersome ex,
Or the stench of
Instantly regretted sex.
I've yet to find
A soap powerful enough
To vanquish it,
Though I scrub till my skin sloughs.
Leave me alone!
I do not deserve this pain!
I shall never
Tease a stupid skunk again!
Write about: the spray.
This evening I went out and took care of all the weeds that were hassling our cabbage plants. Then I gave the plants an organic spray to help them fend off potential pests.
Felt rather productive, really.
I think we're getting close to being on top of the weeds again. The garden is looking much better than it did a week or so ago, at any rate.
Mine:
It clings to me
Like a bothersome ex,
Or the stench of
Instantly regretted sex.
I've yet to find
A soap powerful enough
To vanquish it,
Though I scrub till my skin sloughs.
Leave me alone!
I do not deserve this pain!
I shall never
Tease a stupid skunk again!
Wednesday June 26th, 2013
The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: Robin Hood.
The inspiration for that is not particularly straightforward, nor is it very interesting, so I'll spare you all and just keep it to myself.
Just before I left this morning to go out to the garden we got an email from the restaurant we supply, putting in a pretty decent order. Six pounds of cherries (eh), six pounds of arugula (happy to get that out of the garden before it all bolted), and twenty heads of kohlrabi (very glad to harvest that before they get too big).
Hopefully, with tourist season about to kick into high gear around here, this will mark the start of bigger, more consistent orders from them.
Mine:
The moment the covered wagon drew into the courtyard I knew what had happened. The multiple arrows protruding from the stretched canvas, the downtrodden driver and guard, the way the horses stepped nervously.
I took a deep breath and moved to meet them.
"Welcome to -"
"There must have been twenty of them!" the driver cried out, the fear still gripping his throat making his words difficult to understand.
"Twenty?" the guard gave his companion a disgusted look before turning to face me. "Fifty, at least. Maybe even a hundred."
"Ambushed in the forest?" I asked the question only as a formality. The man never launched an attack elsewhere.
"With all those trees and bushes there might have been two hundred of 'em! We didn't stand a chance!"
It was possible, I suppose, that there had actually been that many. Unlikely, but possible. In the end, though, it wouldn't matter how many men Robin Hood had brought with him. Prince... King John would take out his anger and frustration on the poor sods who had allowed his gold to be stolen away from him.
Write something that has to do with: Robin Hood.
The inspiration for that is not particularly straightforward, nor is it very interesting, so I'll spare you all and just keep it to myself.
Just before I left this morning to go out to the garden we got an email from the restaurant we supply, putting in a pretty decent order. Six pounds of cherries (eh), six pounds of arugula (happy to get that out of the garden before it all bolted), and twenty heads of kohlrabi (very glad to harvest that before they get too big).
Hopefully, with tourist season about to kick into high gear around here, this will mark the start of bigger, more consistent orders from them.
Mine:
The moment the covered wagon drew into the courtyard I knew what had happened. The multiple arrows protruding from the stretched canvas, the downtrodden driver and guard, the way the horses stepped nervously.
I took a deep breath and moved to meet them.
"Welcome to -"
"There must have been twenty of them!" the driver cried out, the fear still gripping his throat making his words difficult to understand.
"Twenty?" the guard gave his companion a disgusted look before turning to face me. "Fifty, at least. Maybe even a hundred."
"Ambushed in the forest?" I asked the question only as a formality. The man never launched an attack elsewhere.
"With all those trees and bushes there might have been two hundred of 'em! We didn't stand a chance!"
It was possible, I suppose, that there had actually been that many. Unlikely, but possible. In the end, though, it wouldn't matter how many men Robin Hood had brought with him. Prince... King John would take out his anger and frustration on the poor sods who had allowed his gold to be stolen away from him.
Tuesday June 25th, 2013
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: the master.
Had a successful (and dry!) harvest for our boxes this morning. Doing ten produce boxes each week is feeling a lot more manageable than I expected it to.
It's looking like the weather is in the process of turning a corner, with highs reaching into the 30's by the weekend. I would appreciate that, and I'm sure the garden would love the extra attention we'd be able to lavish on it.
The weeds, though? They probably won't care for that forecast at all.
Mine:
He rules this place with
lethal enthusiasm;
we will usurp him.
* * *
A Jack of all trades
is supposed to master none?
We'll see about that.
Write two haiku about: the master.
Had a successful (and dry!) harvest for our boxes this morning. Doing ten produce boxes each week is feeling a lot more manageable than I expected it to.
It's looking like the weather is in the process of turning a corner, with highs reaching into the 30's by the weekend. I would appreciate that, and I'm sure the garden would love the extra attention we'd be able to lavish on it.
The weeds, though? They probably won't care for that forecast at all.
Mine:
He rules this place with
lethal enthusiasm;
we will usurp him.
* * *
A Jack of all trades
is supposed to master none?
We'll see about that.
Monday June 24th, 2013
The exercise:
Write a little something that has to do with: dodging.
Managed to get the raspberries picked for tomorrow's boxes, despite all the rain. Otherwise it wasn't an especially productive day, but we did get a bit of clothes shopping done for Max this morning.
Now I'm just hoping that the rest of the harvest tomorrow morning won't be a wet one.
Mine:
Before I met Art I'd never even heard of anyone who could dodge raindrops. So you can imagine my surprise the day I realized he could do just that.
Now I'm not saying that he could cross a street in a torrential downpour and not get wet. That would be a level of insanity such that I wouldn't bother trying to convince others of its truth. Better to keep that knowledge to myself and avoid all that padded room time, thank you kindly.
No, Art was much more subtle than that. I must have witnessed it ten or twenty times before I cottoned on. But he did it, all right.
The first time I saw it, long before I figured out what he was doing, we were out walking on Main Street. There were a few clouds overhead, not particularly dark though. The weatherman was calling for zero precipitation all week and Monday and Tuesday had taken his side of things.
This was Wednesday, though, and she had other ideas. But before she let everyone in on her surprise Art glanced up (I remember wondering if he'd seen a rare bird or something and followed his gaze), then stepped into a crowded coffee shop. I followed after him, but not fast enough to avoid the first drops of rain.
Next he cancelled at the last possible moment when he was supposed to meet us at the beach. I could have sworn I saw his car leaving the parking lot as we all ran for cover from a sudden cloudburst (I would have been right).
There were many more examples after that, but I seem to be the only one who has put it all together. I don't know how he does it, but I plan to find out.
Only problem is, I suspect that Art knows I'm working on unearthing his secret.
And I don't think he's happy about that.
Write a little something that has to do with: dodging.
Managed to get the raspberries picked for tomorrow's boxes, despite all the rain. Otherwise it wasn't an especially productive day, but we did get a bit of clothes shopping done for Max this morning.
Now I'm just hoping that the rest of the harvest tomorrow morning won't be a wet one.
Mine:
Before I met Art I'd never even heard of anyone who could dodge raindrops. So you can imagine my surprise the day I realized he could do just that.
Now I'm not saying that he could cross a street in a torrential downpour and not get wet. That would be a level of insanity such that I wouldn't bother trying to convince others of its truth. Better to keep that knowledge to myself and avoid all that padded room time, thank you kindly.
No, Art was much more subtle than that. I must have witnessed it ten or twenty times before I cottoned on. But he did it, all right.
The first time I saw it, long before I figured out what he was doing, we were out walking on Main Street. There were a few clouds overhead, not particularly dark though. The weatherman was calling for zero precipitation all week and Monday and Tuesday had taken his side of things.
This was Wednesday, though, and she had other ideas. But before she let everyone in on her surprise Art glanced up (I remember wondering if he'd seen a rare bird or something and followed his gaze), then stepped into a crowded coffee shop. I followed after him, but not fast enough to avoid the first drops of rain.
Next he cancelled at the last possible moment when he was supposed to meet us at the beach. I could have sworn I saw his car leaving the parking lot as we all ran for cover from a sudden cloudburst (I would have been right).
There were many more examples after that, but I seem to be the only one who has put it all together. I don't know how he does it, but I plan to find out.
Only problem is, I suspect that Art knows I'm working on unearthing his secret.
And I don't think he's happy about that.
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