The exercise:
Write about: the bus driver.
I got Maja to the 5:50 bus this morning (with time to spare, believe it or not) before coming back home and going back to sleep. It already feels very strange to not have her around.
Genevieve came by to work this morning and then spent the rest of the day with her visiting family at her grandfather's house here in town. She's catching a ride back to Calgary late tomorrow morning but has kindly offered to help out with the box harvest pretty much right up until her parents are ready to leave town.
Once both of our helpers have left it will feel extremely different around here.
But for now the focus is on week four of the boxes. After dinner Kat helped me pick all the raspberries we'll need for tomorrow, so that's a big chunk of work out of the way. It's going to be a hot one so the plan is to get an early start.
So maybe I should stop writing and get some sleep.
Mine:
All day long people come and go. If I'm lucky some will even say hello. Most don't, though. They just tell me I'm late, I'm late, I'm much too slow.
There are always too many cars on the road, uncaring of my heavy passenger load. Tempers flare and patience erodes. Just a matter of time before someone explodes.
Another coin jangles in place, delivered by one more unsmiling face. Move to the back, there's always space. Quickly now, we're losing the race! The neighbourhood snail sets a punishing pace...
Sunday June 29th, 2014
The exercise:
Write about a: decision.
We took Maja to the Osoyoos Desert Centre this morning for one last touristy experience before we say farewell tomorrow. She seemed to enjoy it, and the sun was kind enough to hide behind the clouds for most of our time there.
Max enjoyed pushing his stroller around the boardwalk.
Earlier this morning my parents headed out to continue their trek across Canada. They'll be stopping in again on their way back home in just over a month, hopefully for a longer visit.
I need to wake up early to drive Maja to the bus station tomorrow, so I should get to this writing business.
Mine:
This should be easy,
Simple as pie!
The right choice is clear,
I can't deny.
And yet I delay,
Listen to doubts;
I need some silence,
But my mind shouts.
Please give me advice,
I want your thoughts.
Won't you please help me
Connect the dots?
No, that is nonsense!
Why suggest that?
I'll stand on my own...
Or just fall flat.
Write about a: decision.
We took Maja to the Osoyoos Desert Centre this morning for one last touristy experience before we say farewell tomorrow. She seemed to enjoy it, and the sun was kind enough to hide behind the clouds for most of our time there.
Max enjoyed pushing his stroller around the boardwalk.
Earlier this morning my parents headed out to continue their trek across Canada. They'll be stopping in again on their way back home in just over a month, hopefully for a longer visit.
I need to wake up early to drive Maja to the bus station tomorrow, so I should get to this writing business.
Mine:
This should be easy,
Simple as pie!
The right choice is clear,
I can't deny.
And yet I delay,
Listen to doubts;
I need some silence,
But my mind shouts.
Please give me advice,
I want your thoughts.
Won't you please help me
Connect the dots?
No, that is nonsense!
Why suggest that?
I'll stand on my own...
Or just fall flat.
Saturday June 28th, 2014
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about something that was left: unwritten.
By the end of the market today we'd sold out of raspberries, strawberries, peas, and cherries (in that order). Moved a few mint plants as well, which was nice. But it was definitely a quieter market than last weekend's, so it was probably a good thing that we didn't have as many cherries as I had been wishing for earlier this week.
Maja is leaving us Monday morning, as she's headed to Vancouver for a few days of being a tourist before heading home to Denmark. Genevieve is going back to Calgary on Monday for a couple of weeks as well, since she needs to get some things sorted out at home before rejoining us, hopefully for the remainder of the summer. We will certainly miss them both.
Especially since we don't currently have any helpers lined up for July.
It could be an interesting stretch coming up.
Mine:
I thought it was understood,
That it need not be spelled out;
But you appear confounded,
So I shall erase all doubt.
Write a four line poem about something that was left: unwritten.
By the end of the market today we'd sold out of raspberries, strawberries, peas, and cherries (in that order). Moved a few mint plants as well, which was nice. But it was definitely a quieter market than last weekend's, so it was probably a good thing that we didn't have as many cherries as I had been wishing for earlier this week.
Maja is leaving us Monday morning, as she's headed to Vancouver for a few days of being a tourist before heading home to Denmark. Genevieve is going back to Calgary on Monday for a couple of weeks as well, since she needs to get some things sorted out at home before rejoining us, hopefully for the remainder of the summer. We will certainly miss them both.
Especially since we don't currently have any helpers lined up for July.
It could be an interesting stretch coming up.
Mine:
I thought it was understood,
That it need not be spelled out;
But you appear confounded,
So I shall erase all doubt.
Friday June 27th, 2014
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the draft.
Back to the market tomorrow, bringing the last nine crates of cherries (screw you, rain), the last 44 pints of strawberries (woo hoo, no more strawberry picks for this year), 31 pints of raspberries, and a whole lot of shelling peas (didn't bother counting the number of bags).
Now as long as the weather plays nice it should be another good one. Not nearly as ridiculous as last week's, but we won't be topping that one any time soon. Maja is coming with me for her final market before she leaves us on Monday, Genevieve will stick around the farm to get some more weeding done, and Kat and Max will be coming up mid-morning'ish with my parents.
Seriously, weather. Play nice.
Mine:
I put the final touches on it and then carefully tuck it inside a box I had set aside for just this purpose. It fits perfectly, cushioned by coloured paper and bubble wrap. Then the lid goes on, removing it from sight - likely forever - and I begin my search for an ideal hiding spot.
The first draft of my novel can never be seen by anyone.
Write four lines of prose about: the draft.
Back to the market tomorrow, bringing the last nine crates of cherries (screw you, rain), the last 44 pints of strawberries (woo hoo, no more strawberry picks for this year), 31 pints of raspberries, and a whole lot of shelling peas (didn't bother counting the number of bags).
Now as long as the weather plays nice it should be another good one. Not nearly as ridiculous as last week's, but we won't be topping that one any time soon. Maja is coming with me for her final market before she leaves us on Monday, Genevieve will stick around the farm to get some more weeding done, and Kat and Max will be coming up mid-morning'ish with my parents.
Seriously, weather. Play nice.
Mine:
I put the final touches on it and then carefully tuck it inside a box I had set aside for just this purpose. It fits perfectly, cushioned by coloured paper and bubble wrap. Then the lid goes on, removing it from sight - likely forever - and I begin my search for an ideal hiding spot.
The first draft of my novel can never be seen by anyone.
Thursday June 26th, 2014
The exercise:
Write about something that was: left unsaid.
We can thank Greg for this one, in a roundabout sort of way. His comment on yesterday's post inspired me to share my piece from another point of view, and this was the prompt that came out of that.
My parents arrived safe and sound this afternoon. It took Max about two hours to get fully comfortable with them, and then the performance began in earnest. By the end of the night he was bossing them around and laughing like a maniac, which was just lovely to see.
Mine:
I can still remember the smell of his coffee. Though I rented the second floor of a cramped house I could always tell when he walked past as he made his way to the river, even if I wasn't sitting by my kitchen window in the morning. Which I often was.
Okay, almost always.
I suppose you could say I was waiting for him. Not that I ever meant to. It just sort of seemed to happen that I would be near that window every morning around the same time. And he would come along like clockwork at 7:15; he could have been my alarm, if he'd only have knocked at my door instead of continuing on.
Instead I would grab my purse and follow after him. On those mornings that spare change jangled in my coat pocket I bought my own coffee, but all too often there was not a forint leftover after rent and meals had been accounted for. Times were tight back then.
So I drank from his cup. He never seemed to mind, though I wondered if he only did it out of pity for my poverty. I never asked because I feared his answer.
So much was left unsaid between us. So much I wish I could have told him, confessed to him. But one word I never spoke haunts me most of all. Just one simple word.
I could not have seen my arrest coming, but if I had and there was time for but one single thing to be done before I was locked in that miserable cell... I would have said goodbye.
Write about something that was: left unsaid.
We can thank Greg for this one, in a roundabout sort of way. His comment on yesterday's post inspired me to share my piece from another point of view, and this was the prompt that came out of that.
My parents arrived safe and sound this afternoon. It took Max about two hours to get fully comfortable with them, and then the performance began in earnest. By the end of the night he was bossing them around and laughing like a maniac, which was just lovely to see.
Mine:
I can still remember the smell of his coffee. Though I rented the second floor of a cramped house I could always tell when he walked past as he made his way to the river, even if I wasn't sitting by my kitchen window in the morning. Which I often was.
Okay, almost always.
I suppose you could say I was waiting for him. Not that I ever meant to. It just sort of seemed to happen that I would be near that window every morning around the same time. And he would come along like clockwork at 7:15; he could have been my alarm, if he'd only have knocked at my door instead of continuing on.
Instead I would grab my purse and follow after him. On those mornings that spare change jangled in my coat pocket I bought my own coffee, but all too often there was not a forint leftover after rent and meals had been accounted for. Times were tight back then.
So I drank from his cup. He never seemed to mind, though I wondered if he only did it out of pity for my poverty. I never asked because I feared his answer.
So much was left unsaid between us. So much I wish I could have told him, confessed to him. But one word I never spoke haunts me most of all. Just one simple word.
I could not have seen my arrest coming, but if I had and there was time for but one single thing to be done before I was locked in that miserable cell... I would have said goodbye.
Wednesday June 25th, 2014
The exercise:
It's time to get a little random up in here. Pick a song as arbitrarily as you wish, and then make use of its first line as your own. Poetry or prose, credit goes where it's due. You know the drill.
Did a lot of rototilling this morning as we tried to catch up on weeding. Managed to do the paths between our carrots and beets, as well as around our squash plantings, while the girls worked on the onions, shallots, and leeks.
Tomorrow looks like more of the same, as the onion section should be done by early morning and then the hand weeding of the carrots and beets can recommence. I'll be tilling around the tomatoes and zucchini, and maybe by the greens and peas as well. Hoping to be more on top of things by the end of the day, at any rate.
Also tomorrow? My parents are arriving for a brief visit. Really looking forward to Max seeing them again and spending good quality time with his 'other' grandparents.
Mine:
Budapest by George Ezra
My house in Budapest sat only a short walk from the western bank of the Danube. It was a path my feet travelled more times than I could possibly recall. I would sit and watch the boats glide past, often with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in my hand.
I would go there to be alone with my thoughts, but it was rare the days that they would be my only company. Mira often joined me, usually appearing at my side within minutes of my arrival. Sometimes she would have her own coffee, but mostly she just sipped from mine. She might miss a day here or there, for reasons never explained or questioned, but never two days in a row.
We didn't talk all that much, which was the way I liked it. The less I spoke, the less chance of me saying something stupid or off-putting. I enjoyed her company, despite the constant fear of driving her away. That ought to tell you plenty about how great a gal she was.
Or maybe it just tells you too much about how big an idiot I am.
There was never any agreement to meet there again before we parted ways, it was just understood. I'd show up, then she would. Boats and time would pass, my cup would empty, the day could begin in earnest.
It was just understood. I was convinced of that, you know? How could I have been so certain of something never expressed in words? I never suspected how deeply mistaken I was, how much I had to lose.
Not until the day after she stopped meeting me at the side of the Danube.
It's time to get a little random up in here. Pick a song as arbitrarily as you wish, and then make use of its first line as your own. Poetry or prose, credit goes where it's due. You know the drill.
Did a lot of rototilling this morning as we tried to catch up on weeding. Managed to do the paths between our carrots and beets, as well as around our squash plantings, while the girls worked on the onions, shallots, and leeks.
Tomorrow looks like more of the same, as the onion section should be done by early morning and then the hand weeding of the carrots and beets can recommence. I'll be tilling around the tomatoes and zucchini, and maybe by the greens and peas as well. Hoping to be more on top of things by the end of the day, at any rate.
Also tomorrow? My parents are arriving for a brief visit. Really looking forward to Max seeing them again and spending good quality time with his 'other' grandparents.
Mine:
Budapest by George Ezra
My house in Budapest sat only a short walk from the western bank of the Danube. It was a path my feet travelled more times than I could possibly recall. I would sit and watch the boats glide past, often with a freshly brewed cup of coffee in my hand.
I would go there to be alone with my thoughts, but it was rare the days that they would be my only company. Mira often joined me, usually appearing at my side within minutes of my arrival. Sometimes she would have her own coffee, but mostly she just sipped from mine. She might miss a day here or there, for reasons never explained or questioned, but never two days in a row.
We didn't talk all that much, which was the way I liked it. The less I spoke, the less chance of me saying something stupid or off-putting. I enjoyed her company, despite the constant fear of driving her away. That ought to tell you plenty about how great a gal she was.
Or maybe it just tells you too much about how big an idiot I am.
There was never any agreement to meet there again before we parted ways, it was just understood. I'd show up, then she would. Boats and time would pass, my cup would empty, the day could begin in earnest.
It was just understood. I was convinced of that, you know? How could I have been so certain of something never expressed in words? I never suspected how deeply mistaken I was, how much I had to lose.
Not until the day after she stopped meeting me at the side of the Danube.
Tuesday June 24th, 2014
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: loss.
We're only at week three of our box program and already we had two families forget to collect their produce today. I feel like that's not a particularly good sign.
Though I do feel it is a sign that we should start charging people some sort of holding fee when that happens.
Anyway. A lot of veggies were harvested in the rain this morning but by this afternoon the clouds had cleared and the heat had returned. After dinner we drove our helpers up to the lookout point above Osoyoos to enjoy the view, since it's not really a place within reasonable biking or walking distance.
Also: Max napped today. Good and long. Hurray!
Mine:
They tell me that my
memory is gone, but I
don't really miss it.
* * *
What? Say it again!
What? You need to speak louder!
Dad's loss hurts us all...
Write two haiku about: loss.
We're only at week three of our box program and already we had two families forget to collect their produce today. I feel like that's not a particularly good sign.
Though I do feel it is a sign that we should start charging people some sort of holding fee when that happens.
Anyway. A lot of veggies were harvested in the rain this morning but by this afternoon the clouds had cleared and the heat had returned. After dinner we drove our helpers up to the lookout point above Osoyoos to enjoy the view, since it's not really a place within reasonable biking or walking distance.
Also: Max napped today. Good and long. Hurray!
Mine:
They tell me that my
memory is gone, but I
don't really miss it.
* * *
What? Say it again!
What? You need to speak louder!
Dad's loss hurts us all...
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