The exercise:
Write a four line poem about: dolphins.
To celebrate Max's ten month birthday, we brought him along to the market today. With our farm help departed there was actually room for him and Kat in the truck, so they didn't need to make a separate trip.
It was the first time that they had been there with me since... I can't remember when. A search of the blog turns up a May 25th visit, but that was his first time there and I know he came at least one more time after that.
So, likely a market in June was the last time.
And yeah, there were some excited people to see him today.
Mine:
Leaping, laughing, playing,
They seem so gentle and kind;
But if you knew their thoughts,
You'd certainly lose your mind.
Friday September 6th, 2013
The exercise:
Write four lines of prose about: the newscaster.
My goodness did we ever have one heck of a storm overnight. Woke Kat and myself at three in the morning, but somehow Max managed to sleep right through it.
I was quite grateful that it had eased off by the time I had to start harvesting, and only made brief reappearances throughout the day.
I was less grateful to discover, just before dinner, that our basement was home to quite a bit of rainwater. Managed to get four pails worth out of there before I had to return to market preparation.
Fingers crossed for drier weather tomorrow.
Mine:
With a smile as fake as his hair he presents the evening news. Words spew forth in orderly fashion, each following the one that came before in no apparent hurry. The story being reported makes no difference, each one is brought into living rooms around the country in exactly the same way.
That will change one day soon though, for his dealer has just been arrested.
Write four lines of prose about: the newscaster.
My goodness did we ever have one heck of a storm overnight. Woke Kat and myself at three in the morning, but somehow Max managed to sleep right through it.
I was quite grateful that it had eased off by the time I had to start harvesting, and only made brief reappearances throughout the day.
I was less grateful to discover, just before dinner, that our basement was home to quite a bit of rainwater. Managed to get four pails worth out of there before I had to return to market preparation.
Fingers crossed for drier weather tomorrow.
Mine:
With a smile as fake as his hair he presents the evening news. Words spew forth in orderly fashion, each following the one that came before in no apparent hurry. The story being reported makes no difference, each one is brought into living rooms around the country in exactly the same way.
That will change one day soon though, for his dealer has just been arrested.
Thursday September 5th, 2013
The exercise:
Today, without any warning whatsoever, we return to Mejaran.
Sorry about that. Hadn't realized until this evening that my next opportunity to write something of this length would be Monday and that just seemed too far away.
Managed to get some potatoes and onions harvested for the market today in order to lessen the load tomorrow. And also because they're calling for thundershowers for most of the day.
Picking in the rain is not very much fun.
Thankfully market day is, at this point at least, looking a little nicer.
Mine:
"What is Azmar up to?"
The question was not directed at anyone in particular but each person in the dimly lit room felt an uncomfortable pressure to answer it. Not least because each of them, in their own way and for their own reasons, feared the woman who had voiced it.
"He appears to be playing the Principals of Mejaran against each other," Liefert said, speaking softly but with authority. "And possibly the Ladies as well."
"If so then he is playing a very dangerous game," Orsana observed, shifting on her undersized chair. She glanced down at it once more, wondering how much longer she had before it shattered under her weight.
"And to what end?" Yarel asked. Exhaustion coated his words but he held little hope of sleep. Not with the mood his mother was in. "He was out playing hero at the bridge today, for everyone to see."
"Which brought his loyal little army to his side as well." Jocelle's eyes first bored through her son's skull before she turned her glare on Liefert. Her kitchen did not seem large enough to host the four of them and her expanding temper at the same time. "For all the village to see."
"So he seeds chaos and then steps forward to be hailed as our savior?" Orsana shook her head. "Then why endear himself to two, and possibly all, of our current leaders first?"
"So that they don't see the coup coming until it's too late to stop it." Yarel said before glancing around, the look on his face suggesting his theory had surprised himself as much as the others. "Each Principal and probably Lady th-"
"I think it's safe to assume all four have been duped at this point," Liefert said.
"Okay, so each Principal and Lady thinks that Azmar is under their control, on their side." Yarel paused to rub his eyes, the movement causing him to wince. Jocelle frowned but said nothing. "Each convinced that the end result of all this collusion will be in their own best interest. Whatever that may be."
"That's not too hard to figure out - for any of them." Orsana looked as though she was about to spit but rethought her actions after a wary glance at Jocelle. "Self-involved, self-important pieces of -"
"That is enough, Orsana." Jocelle sighed into the silence that followed, then tilted her head back and considered the barely visible ceiling. "The question we face now, it would seem, is what to do with this knowledge?"
Today, without any warning whatsoever, we return to Mejaran.
Sorry about that. Hadn't realized until this evening that my next opportunity to write something of this length would be Monday and that just seemed too far away.
Managed to get some potatoes and onions harvested for the market today in order to lessen the load tomorrow. And also because they're calling for thundershowers for most of the day.
Picking in the rain is not very much fun.
Thankfully market day is, at this point at least, looking a little nicer.
Mine:
"What is Azmar up to?"
The question was not directed at anyone in particular but each person in the dimly lit room felt an uncomfortable pressure to answer it. Not least because each of them, in their own way and for their own reasons, feared the woman who had voiced it.
"He appears to be playing the Principals of Mejaran against each other," Liefert said, speaking softly but with authority. "And possibly the Ladies as well."
"If so then he is playing a very dangerous game," Orsana observed, shifting on her undersized chair. She glanced down at it once more, wondering how much longer she had before it shattered under her weight.
"And to what end?" Yarel asked. Exhaustion coated his words but he held little hope of sleep. Not with the mood his mother was in. "He was out playing hero at the bridge today, for everyone to see."
"Which brought his loyal little army to his side as well." Jocelle's eyes first bored through her son's skull before she turned her glare on Liefert. Her kitchen did not seem large enough to host the four of them and her expanding temper at the same time. "For all the village to see."
"So he seeds chaos and then steps forward to be hailed as our savior?" Orsana shook her head. "Then why endear himself to two, and possibly all, of our current leaders first?"
"So that they don't see the coup coming until it's too late to stop it." Yarel said before glancing around, the look on his face suggesting his theory had surprised himself as much as the others. "Each Principal and probably Lady th-"
"I think it's safe to assume all four have been duped at this point," Liefert said.
"Okay, so each Principal and Lady thinks that Azmar is under their control, on their side." Yarel paused to rub his eyes, the movement causing him to wince. Jocelle frowned but said nothing. "Each convinced that the end result of all this collusion will be in their own best interest. Whatever that may be."
"That's not too hard to figure out - for any of them." Orsana looked as though she was about to spit but rethought her actions after a wary glance at Jocelle. "Self-involved, self-important pieces of -"
"That is enough, Orsana." Jocelle sighed into the silence that followed, then tilted her head back and considered the barely visible ceiling. "The question we face now, it would seem, is what to do with this knowledge?"
Wednesday September 4th, 2013
The exercise:
Write about something that is: set in stone.
Woke up to thunder this morning, which was followed quite quickly by a torrential downpour. At that point we thought a coffee and tea date in town was a much better option than going out to the garden, so we did that.
Eventually the rain let off, but things were wet for the rest of the day. I did finally get around to sorting through our garlic harvest though.
Final result from what we have left? 185 good bulbs, 29 bad.
In previous years it's been closer to a 50/50 split on quality. Looks like we'll actually get to save some nice garlic for replanting for once.
Mine:
In a desolate wilderness there sits a towering stone, taller than five men. On three sides it is unremarkable. Plain, simple rock with no markings. No unusual damage. No ancient fossils, not even a dash of unexpected color.
There would be no need to speak of this landmark, if only it had but three sides.
But alas, there is indeed a fourth face.
It looks toward the south, though no man who has studied it can say for certain whether or not that means anything. Likely not. But perhaps...
The words etched into the rock are crisp and clear, as though they appeared there recently. They have, however, resided there for at least two centuries. Some suspect much, much longer than that. I am one of those who believe this.
Who was the author? Was he or she cracking wise or serious? Did that mysterious, elusive figure even expect that another soul would ever stand in that place, reading that message? It is impossible, at this point, to say.
All we know for certain is the message that was left in stone for us:
I will return. I will be stronger. I will have justice. Fear the day.
Fear it.
Write about something that is: set in stone.
Woke up to thunder this morning, which was followed quite quickly by a torrential downpour. At that point we thought a coffee and tea date in town was a much better option than going out to the garden, so we did that.
Eventually the rain let off, but things were wet for the rest of the day. I did finally get around to sorting through our garlic harvest though.
Final result from what we have left? 185 good bulbs, 29 bad.
In previous years it's been closer to a 50/50 split on quality. Looks like we'll actually get to save some nice garlic for replanting for once.
Mine:
In a desolate wilderness there sits a towering stone, taller than five men. On three sides it is unremarkable. Plain, simple rock with no markings. No unusual damage. No ancient fossils, not even a dash of unexpected color.
There would be no need to speak of this landmark, if only it had but three sides.
But alas, there is indeed a fourth face.
It looks toward the south, though no man who has studied it can say for certain whether or not that means anything. Likely not. But perhaps...
The words etched into the rock are crisp and clear, as though they appeared there recently. They have, however, resided there for at least two centuries. Some suspect much, much longer than that. I am one of those who believe this.
Who was the author? Was he or she cracking wise or serious? Did that mysterious, elusive figure even expect that another soul would ever stand in that place, reading that message? It is impossible, at this point, to say.
All we know for certain is the message that was left in stone for us:
I will return. I will be stronger. I will have justice. Fear the day.
Fear it.
Tuesday September 3rd, 2013
The exercise:
Write two haiku about: the field.
Managed to get through today's box harvest and pickup on our own, though it certainly was a longer day than usual. Next week I'm hoping to get a few things picked the day before, and Kat should be able to help out a bit as well if her mom is able to watch Max for a little while.
But for the moment I am drained and ready for sleep.
Mine:
Workers bent over,
hauling weeds out of the earth...
and sometimes plants too.
* * *
Rusting, abandoned
cars, broken glass, used needles;
play somewhere else, child.
Write two haiku about: the field.
Managed to get through today's box harvest and pickup on our own, though it certainly was a longer day than usual. Next week I'm hoping to get a few things picked the day before, and Kat should be able to help out a bit as well if her mom is able to watch Max for a little while.
But for the moment I am drained and ready for sleep.
Mine:
Workers bent over,
hauling weeds out of the earth...
and sometimes plants too.
* * *
Rusting, abandoned
cars, broken glass, used needles;
play somewhere else, child.
Monday September 2nd, 2013
The exercise:
Write about a: surplus.
In honor of the ridiculous amount of potatoes and leeks still remaining in the garden. Hoping to rectify the situation through a conversation with the chef at the restaurant, as we're not certain why he's fallen so far short on ordering what he told us in the spring he would.
Our farm intern left us this morning, and the friends who arrived Saturday night departed this afternoon. So now it's back to Kat, myself, and Max for the first time since mid-May.
Tomorrow's box harvest will be... interesting.
Mine:
The animal control officer stood at the front of the classroom, arms crossed across his chest as he glared at the students squirming in their seats. Their teacher sat at her desk, not bothering to hide the fact that she was clearly unimpressed.
Though whether that was due to the officer or her students, she wisely kept that to herself.
As the minute hand dragged its feet on its way around the clock facing the children, the silence in the room was disturbed only by the panted breath of the officer's German Shepherd, who was seated at his feet. The dog was unusually calm, his appetite sated by an overly large breakfast that morning.
"So." The officer made the word sound like a threat, causing several students to begin to cry. "Which one of you released the class' pet rabbits into the woods behind the school?"
Write about a: surplus.
In honor of the ridiculous amount of potatoes and leeks still remaining in the garden. Hoping to rectify the situation through a conversation with the chef at the restaurant, as we're not certain why he's fallen so far short on ordering what he told us in the spring he would.
Our farm intern left us this morning, and the friends who arrived Saturday night departed this afternoon. So now it's back to Kat, myself, and Max for the first time since mid-May.
Tomorrow's box harvest will be... interesting.
Mine:
The animal control officer stood at the front of the classroom, arms crossed across his chest as he glared at the students squirming in their seats. Their teacher sat at her desk, not bothering to hide the fact that she was clearly unimpressed.
Though whether that was due to the officer or her students, she wisely kept that to herself.
As the minute hand dragged its feet on its way around the clock facing the children, the silence in the room was disturbed only by the panted breath of the officer's German Shepherd, who was seated at his feet. The dog was unusually calm, his appetite sated by an overly large breakfast that morning.
"So." The officer made the word sound like a threat, causing several students to begin to cry. "Which one of you released the class' pet rabbits into the woods behind the school?"
Sunday September 1st, 2013
The exercise:
Write about: the golfer.
With our farm intern and her daughter leaving us tomorrow morning we wanted to treat them to a bit of a special day. So we took them to Rattlesnake Canyon for mini-golf, rides, and ice cream.
I've never been much of a ride person so I just stuck to golfing, which was loads of fun. It's been too long since I've done that.
Tomorrow I'm dragging my ass out of bed early in order to harvest them a surprise produce box to help them fill their fridge in their new place up in Penticton, where Brittany has already found work that will hopefully get them through the winter.
It's going to feel quite different around here starting tomorrow night, that's for sure.
Mine:
Rain falls as though a faucet in heaven has been left open and unattended, forming monstrous puddles and washing away unsecured equipment. We watch from the safety of the indoors, just as the foxes peer out of their dens and rabbits look out of their holes.
The storm will pass eventually. Some angel is bound to notice the gushing tap at some point, at which point it will be a reasonable option to venture outside.
Of course, not all men are born reasonable.
Like Kevin, for example. No, he's not here for me to point him out to you. He's out there, just like every Saturday for the last five years, warming up for his 10 am tee time.
Write about: the golfer.
With our farm intern and her daughter leaving us tomorrow morning we wanted to treat them to a bit of a special day. So we took them to Rattlesnake Canyon for mini-golf, rides, and ice cream.
I've never been much of a ride person so I just stuck to golfing, which was loads of fun. It's been too long since I've done that.
Tomorrow I'm dragging my ass out of bed early in order to harvest them a surprise produce box to help them fill their fridge in their new place up in Penticton, where Brittany has already found work that will hopefully get them through the winter.
It's going to feel quite different around here starting tomorrow night, that's for sure.
Mine:
Rain falls as though a faucet in heaven has been left open and unattended, forming monstrous puddles and washing away unsecured equipment. We watch from the safety of the indoors, just as the foxes peer out of their dens and rabbits look out of their holes.
The storm will pass eventually. Some angel is bound to notice the gushing tap at some point, at which point it will be a reasonable option to venture outside.
Of course, not all men are born reasonable.
Like Kevin, for example. No, he's not here for me to point him out to you. He's out there, just like every Saturday for the last five years, warming up for his 10 am tee time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)