The exercise:
Write two haiku about: the informant.
Since it was such a small pick for locals this morning I took care of it by myself (with a little help from Kat last night when she collected two thirds of the raspberries we needed). That freed up Kat to take Max up to Penticton to run several errands.
While they were gone I harvested the remaining raspberries, three heads of broccoli, three bunches of carrots, two cabbages, two bags of salad mix, and two bags of kale. I also put together a ten pound order of apricots. Unfortunately I didn't finish early enough to get some weeding done, but at least I was out of the heat before noon.
Max had a little nap on the way back home, which meant he fell asleep tonight around 10, instead of his usual 7 (I'm not sure how a half hour nap pushes his bedtime back by three hours, but whatever). So the three of us went out to the garden after dinner to weed and mulch and eat strawberries.
The eating was mostly Max. Though he did manage to stuff one in my mouth while I was mulching.
Mine:
I'm an informant,
so don't you dare call me a
dirty little snitch
* * *
I'll drop the dime on
any friend of mine - so, yeah,
I'll hide the body...
Monday June 29th, 2015
The exercise:
Write about something or someone that is: nimble.
This morning's weather was certainly... eventful. While Rebecca and I were weeding and mulching the new strawberry patch we had a nice cool breeze, a heavy drizzle, a calm stretch, a heavy downpour, another calm stretch, another downpour, and then finished off with a round of blue skies and heat.
My body was feeling a little confused after all that.
Spent the afternoon with Max who was, for whatever reason, bursting with energy. It was a little hard to keep up with, but I managed.
We've got a fairly small harvest for local orders tomorrow, so I'm hoping it goes quickly enough that there will be time to do some weeding as well.
Edit: crap, I forgot I was going to talk about Max's response to the water bombers. I guess I'll save that for Wednesday.
Mine:
Everyone who met Bo agreed that he was surprisingly agile for someone his size. They would watch with unconcealed amazement as he spun and leapt and spun until most folks would fall over in a dizzy heap but instead paused for a moment... and then started his routine all over again.
His balance was spectacular. The steepest railings and narrowest branches were no match for him. No one had ever seen him so much as slip, never mind fall.
Should you be foolish enough to play tag with him, Bo would evade you as though you were both in the ocean... only he was an eel and you were a tugboat. The way he deked and juked reminded onlookers of NFL running backs. Some even suggested that arena as a professional future, with the shrewder among those offering to be his agent.
But the football field was never where Bo was destined to perform. That was simply not the direction his genetics and role model pointed him in.
No, Bo was undoubtedly going to follow in his father's footsteps to become an elite, world-renowned cat burglar. That much was clear, even though Bo was only two years old.
Write about something or someone that is: nimble.
This morning's weather was certainly... eventful. While Rebecca and I were weeding and mulching the new strawberry patch we had a nice cool breeze, a heavy drizzle, a calm stretch, a heavy downpour, another calm stretch, another downpour, and then finished off with a round of blue skies and heat.
My body was feeling a little confused after all that.
Spent the afternoon with Max who was, for whatever reason, bursting with energy. It was a little hard to keep up with, but I managed.
We've got a fairly small harvest for local orders tomorrow, so I'm hoping it goes quickly enough that there will be time to do some weeding as well.
Edit: crap, I forgot I was going to talk about Max's response to the water bombers. I guess I'll save that for Wednesday.
Mine:
Everyone who met Bo agreed that he was surprisingly agile for someone his size. They would watch with unconcealed amazement as he spun and leapt and spun until most folks would fall over in a dizzy heap but instead paused for a moment... and then started his routine all over again.
His balance was spectacular. The steepest railings and narrowest branches were no match for him. No one had ever seen him so much as slip, never mind fall.
Should you be foolish enough to play tag with him, Bo would evade you as though you were both in the ocean... only he was an eel and you were a tugboat. The way he deked and juked reminded onlookers of NFL running backs. Some even suggested that arena as a professional future, with the shrewder among those offering to be his agent.
But the football field was never where Bo was destined to perform. That was simply not the direction his genetics and role model pointed him in.
No, Bo was undoubtedly going to follow in his father's footsteps to become an elite, world-renowned cat burglar. That much was clear, even though Bo was only two years old.
Sunday June 28th, 2015
The exercise:
Write something in the style of: Dr. Seuss.
Greg, I trust that you've had time to do your homework since the last time the good doctor was mentioned here on the blog?
The lightning last night set off a number of fires in the hills around us - that we can see, at least. I would not be surprised to learn that there are more which are out of our sight lines, as there were a whole lot of strikes during that storm.
Anyway. The closest cluster is on our side of the lake, maybe (and I hesitate to throw this out there as I am a horrible judge of distance) five kilometers away. We had a pretty good view of the water bombers doing their work this evening, at any rate.
Max was... let me just say excited for now. I will provide more details tomorrow, if I remember.
Mine:
On our farm we farm without harm. Except of course for weeds and other necessary dirty deeds.
Indeed those weeds simply have to go. Go where? Go here, go there, I don't know! Just, please, do not grow around my plants, or even in the rows!
When I see a weed I stop! Then I hop! Then I pull and yank and chop until that weed goes plop!
Then I feel very good, just like I should! Do I wish to do it again? I would!
When I see another weed has gone astray my happiness goes away. So I carry on without delay, saving play for another day, as I pull and yank and chop and slay until... okay... I can say...
Nope! Another weedy dope! Time to act, don't give them hope!
So it goes, day after day after day... and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Write something in the style of: Dr. Seuss.
Greg, I trust that you've had time to do your homework since the last time the good doctor was mentioned here on the blog?
The lightning last night set off a number of fires in the hills around us - that we can see, at least. I would not be surprised to learn that there are more which are out of our sight lines, as there were a whole lot of strikes during that storm.
Anyway. The closest cluster is on our side of the lake, maybe (and I hesitate to throw this out there as I am a horrible judge of distance) five kilometers away. We had a pretty good view of the water bombers doing their work this evening, at any rate.
Max was... let me just say excited for now. I will provide more details tomorrow, if I remember.
Mine:
On our farm we farm without harm. Except of course for weeds and other necessary dirty deeds.
Indeed those weeds simply have to go. Go where? Go here, go there, I don't know! Just, please, do not grow around my plants, or even in the rows!
When I see a weed I stop! Then I hop! Then I pull and yank and chop until that weed goes plop!
Then I feel very good, just like I should! Do I wish to do it again? I would!
When I see another weed has gone astray my happiness goes away. So I carry on without delay, saving play for another day, as I pull and yank and chop and slay until... okay... I can say...
Nope! Another weedy dope! Time to act, don't give them hope!
So it goes, day after day after day... and I wouldn't have it any other way.
Saturday June 27th, 2015
The exercise:
Write a four line poem about (or by, I suppose): Elvis.
It was a bit of a weird market this morning - the customers seemed more picky than usual, and not as happy as they tend to be, overall. Maybe something to do with the heat, I suppose. But I think it had more to do with the two festivals going on around us (one of which was the Penticton Elvis Festival). I'm thinking people who don't typically attend farmers markets but decided to check things out since we were right there.
Whatever it was, our end result was still very good. We brought 20 crates of apricots and only came back with 4 and a quarter. Our peas didn't sell very well but we did move some, same with the broccoli. We brought home a pint of raspberries, which is ridiculously rare, but we did sell the other 29 so... I'm trying to focus on that.
I took Rebecca with me and left Kat and Max at home to escape the heat. Well, not especially true. I left them to go to the beach in the morning and Kat's parents (air conditioned) house in the afternoon to beat the heat.
And now... there's a thunderstorm going on outside. So maybe I should get this done and posted before the power decides to go out.
Mine:
I don't want to be me,
Not anymore at least;
I watch in confusion
While others play my role
Write a four line poem about (or by, I suppose): Elvis.
It was a bit of a weird market this morning - the customers seemed more picky than usual, and not as happy as they tend to be, overall. Maybe something to do with the heat, I suppose. But I think it had more to do with the two festivals going on around us (one of which was the Penticton Elvis Festival). I'm thinking people who don't typically attend farmers markets but decided to check things out since we were right there.
Whatever it was, our end result was still very good. We brought 20 crates of apricots and only came back with 4 and a quarter. Our peas didn't sell very well but we did move some, same with the broccoli. We brought home a pint of raspberries, which is ridiculously rare, but we did sell the other 29 so... I'm trying to focus on that.
I took Rebecca with me and left Kat and Max at home to escape the heat. Well, not especially true. I left them to go to the beach in the morning and Kat's parents (air conditioned) house in the afternoon to beat the heat.
And now... there's a thunderstorm going on outside. So maybe I should get this done and posted before the power decides to go out.
Mine:
I don't want to be me,
Not anymore at least;
I watch in confusion
While others play my role
Friday June 26th, 2015
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose which take place in: the wasteland.
Off to the market tomorrow, need sleep, talk more later.
Mine:
It is silent here now. Car alarms have faded away, all the glass that could be broken has been shattered. No dogs or cats or even birds disturb the long lingering hush.
But that does not mean we are alone.
Write four lines of prose which take place in: the wasteland.
Off to the market tomorrow, need sleep, talk more later.
Mine:
It is silent here now. Car alarms have faded away, all the glass that could be broken has been shattered. No dogs or cats or even birds disturb the long lingering hush.
But that does not mean we are alone.
Thursday June 25th, 2015
The exercise:
I am feeling a touch random tonight. Random Book Prompt random, you ask?
Indeed.
So find a book, as randomly as you like. Off your shelf, perhaps. Personally I hit up Amazon and used their Look Inside! feature to find mine. I prefer to use books that I haven't read yet, but you guys are free to ignore that option.
Anyway. Borrow the first line of your chosen book and use it as your opening, then take it from there.
I spent some time this morning mulching the new strawberries and also weeding around the blackberries... because those guys are coming on quick. So it would be nice to be able to access them a little more easily before they're ripe and ready to come off the bushes.
Tomorrow morning we're back to harvesting for the market. Kat and I will be picking raspberries, strawberries, snow and shelling peas, and broccoli. Kat's parents will be collecting apricots and the first apples of the year - transparents.
It's going to be a hot one, so we're hoping for an early start to beat the worst of the heat.
Mine:
The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
There is a pile of clothing on the side of the train tracks. I approach cautiously, half expecting to find a severed limb, but none await my inspection. I crouch down and find the blue shirt and khaki pants are spotless, not even a speck of dirt sullies their surface. They smell worn but not sweaty.
I look up and down the tracks and find no other evidence of humanity.
Not expecting to find anything, I check the pant pockets. I find exactly what I figured I would: nothing. A wallet containing photo ID would have been ideal but I would have been happy with car keys or even a shopping list.
A suicide note? Yeah, maybe I'd been preparing myself for that.
The discarded clothes are devoid of clues though. Is this some sort of elaborate joke? I can't imagine this trail gets much foot traffic. Maybe a passenger was drying their outfit by holding it out of their window and then... whoops, there it goes, fluttering away with no hope of stopping the train to retrieve them.
Is there a man out there somewhere in only his underwear and socks, trying to figure out how to escape his train without being seen? An amusing thought, surely, but somehow...
Somehow it feels like there is more to this than that. Something that doesn't have such a light and happy ending.
I am feeling a touch random tonight. Random Book Prompt random, you ask?
Indeed.
So find a book, as randomly as you like. Off your shelf, perhaps. Personally I hit up Amazon and used their Look Inside! feature to find mine. I prefer to use books that I haven't read yet, but you guys are free to ignore that option.
Anyway. Borrow the first line of your chosen book and use it as your opening, then take it from there.
I spent some time this morning mulching the new strawberries and also weeding around the blackberries... because those guys are coming on quick. So it would be nice to be able to access them a little more easily before they're ripe and ready to come off the bushes.
Tomorrow morning we're back to harvesting for the market. Kat and I will be picking raspberries, strawberries, snow and shelling peas, and broccoli. Kat's parents will be collecting apricots and the first apples of the year - transparents.
It's going to be a hot one, so we're hoping for an early start to beat the worst of the heat.
Mine:
The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins
There is a pile of clothing on the side of the train tracks. I approach cautiously, half expecting to find a severed limb, but none await my inspection. I crouch down and find the blue shirt and khaki pants are spotless, not even a speck of dirt sullies their surface. They smell worn but not sweaty.
I look up and down the tracks and find no other evidence of humanity.
Not expecting to find anything, I check the pant pockets. I find exactly what I figured I would: nothing. A wallet containing photo ID would have been ideal but I would have been happy with car keys or even a shopping list.
A suicide note? Yeah, maybe I'd been preparing myself for that.
The discarded clothes are devoid of clues though. Is this some sort of elaborate joke? I can't imagine this trail gets much foot traffic. Maybe a passenger was drying their outfit by holding it out of their window and then... whoops, there it goes, fluttering away with no hope of stopping the train to retrieve them.
Is there a man out there somewhere in only his underwear and socks, trying to figure out how to escape his train without being seen? An amusing thought, surely, but somehow...
Somehow it feels like there is more to this than that. Something that doesn't have such a light and happy ending.
Wednesday June 24th, 2015
The exercise:
Write about: the light.
With Rebecca and her boyfriend's help the raspberries were fully harvested by shortly after 10 this morning. The remainder of our time in the garden was spent mulching the new strawberry patch, which I'm hellbent on being better managed than the current patch that is drawing to a close this season.
So, yeah, felt good to get going with that.
This evening Rebecca's boyfriend, who is originally from Mexico, made us tacos with salsa and guacamole for dinner. Uh... yum? Yes, yum.
He's heading back to Vancouver tomorrow but is planning on returning for another visit in July. He is, needless to say, welcome back at any time.
Mine:
"You got a light?"
That's how it all started, with those four little words. I was standing on a bustling sidewalk, part of a crowd of people waiting to get into a night club. Everyone else seemed to be part of a group, doused in cheap cologne, perfume, and pre-drinks, but I was on my own.
I wonder if that's why she chose to approach me.
"Yeah, I do," I said. I started to reach for my lighter but then I noticed she didn't have a cigarette in her hand or, more noticeably, between her ruby red lips. "Uh... do you need one?"
"Not yet," she said with a smile and a wink, then turned and disappeared back into the crowd.
I tried to watch her go, craning my head this way and that, getting up on my toes. But it was like she was a ghost that had appeared only for me - no one else even seemed to notice her.
I shook my head, eventually, and returned to whatever thoughts were occupying my brain. School, most likely, but I can't say for sure now. That would have been as good a reason as any for me to hit the bar solo on a Wednesday night.
After a wait that lasted far too long (as per usual) I managed to escape the outside world and find solace in the dark, pounding heart of the club. I went straight to the bar (also as per usual) and ordered a drink. While I waited for my overpriced rum and coke, she appeared at my elbow.
"Hi again." Good lord, that smile. She must have practiced it. If she'd always smiled like that she must have been pretty damned used to getting her way with the boys.
"Hey." Ah, I was a smooth one.
"You still got that light?" I pretended not to hear, forcing her to ask again closer to my ear. Okay, maybe I was a little bit smooth.
"We're not allowed to smoke inside," I replied, feeling like a bore. Uncool, actually. And I so desperately wanted to seem cool to her.
"Oh, I know that, silly." Her eyes twinkled and she bumped her shoulder into mine, playfully. My knees went weak and I had to hold on to the bar in order to remain upright.
"Then why do you need a light?" I tried for teasing but I felt like I was coming across closer to stupid.
"I forgot mine at home," she said with a cute little shrug. "So how else am I going to burn this place to the ground?"
Write about: the light.
With Rebecca and her boyfriend's help the raspberries were fully harvested by shortly after 10 this morning. The remainder of our time in the garden was spent mulching the new strawberry patch, which I'm hellbent on being better managed than the current patch that is drawing to a close this season.
So, yeah, felt good to get going with that.
This evening Rebecca's boyfriend, who is originally from Mexico, made us tacos with salsa and guacamole for dinner. Uh... yum? Yes, yum.
He's heading back to Vancouver tomorrow but is planning on returning for another visit in July. He is, needless to say, welcome back at any time.
Mine:
"You got a light?"
That's how it all started, with those four little words. I was standing on a bustling sidewalk, part of a crowd of people waiting to get into a night club. Everyone else seemed to be part of a group, doused in cheap cologne, perfume, and pre-drinks, but I was on my own.
I wonder if that's why she chose to approach me.
"Yeah, I do," I said. I started to reach for my lighter but then I noticed she didn't have a cigarette in her hand or, more noticeably, between her ruby red lips. "Uh... do you need one?"
"Not yet," she said with a smile and a wink, then turned and disappeared back into the crowd.
I tried to watch her go, craning my head this way and that, getting up on my toes. But it was like she was a ghost that had appeared only for me - no one else even seemed to notice her.
I shook my head, eventually, and returned to whatever thoughts were occupying my brain. School, most likely, but I can't say for sure now. That would have been as good a reason as any for me to hit the bar solo on a Wednesday night.
After a wait that lasted far too long (as per usual) I managed to escape the outside world and find solace in the dark, pounding heart of the club. I went straight to the bar (also as per usual) and ordered a drink. While I waited for my overpriced rum and coke, she appeared at my elbow.
"Hi again." Good lord, that smile. She must have practiced it. If she'd always smiled like that she must have been pretty damned used to getting her way with the boys.
"Hey." Ah, I was a smooth one.
"You still got that light?" I pretended not to hear, forcing her to ask again closer to my ear. Okay, maybe I was a little bit smooth.
"We're not allowed to smoke inside," I replied, feeling like a bore. Uncool, actually. And I so desperately wanted to seem cool to her.
"Oh, I know that, silly." Her eyes twinkled and she bumped her shoulder into mine, playfully. My knees went weak and I had to hold on to the bar in order to remain upright.
"Then why do you need a light?" I tried for teasing but I felt like I was coming across closer to stupid.
"I forgot mine at home," she said with a cute little shrug. "So how else am I going to burn this place to the ground?"
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