The exercise:
Let us write about: the display.
Happy Canada Day!
Mine:
For such a little town, Osoyoos sure puts on a big fireworks display on Canada's birthday.
There was an article in the paper this week claiming it's the second biggest display in the country (behind Ottawa, which is understandably on top since it's the nation's capital). I can't find anything online that actually confirms that, but this is the second year I've watched the celebrations and it's definitely an impressive bit of work.
Kat and I watched them with her brother and sister-in-law from her parent's back deck, which was a pretty sweet deal. I took a bunch of pictures, the one above being my current favorite, but I'll have another look through them tomorrow to see if there are any more worth sharing.
7 comments:
That's a very pretty picture, and reminds me of why I like Fireworks' displays. Having the second largest display in Canada sounds pretty impressive too, and can be no mean feat!
The display
"Vince?"
"Yes Dave?"
"What are you doing Vince?"
"...nothing, Dave?"
Dave sighed. They were supposed to be in and out, nice and quick. They'd levered the door open, dodged past the security guard, and managed to trick the Doberman into leaving the building through a door that locked behind it, all without Vince saying anything. Now, just when they'd discovered that a fireworks display was being held here tomorrow night, now Vince was being... well, Vince.
"Vince?"
"Yes Dave?"
"What are you doing Vince?"
"... adjusting the timers, Dave."
Several hours later, as Dave sipped a chilled beer and sat back on his deck, watching the fireworks go off, he allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Who would have thought Vince knew enough about anything to adjust the timers so that the fireworks spelled out such inventive swearwords?
Pretty pinks, striped reds,
Roses shimmer on their green
Leafed branches. Summer!
We've got out countdown going to the annual Mullen 'Blow Up Carroll County'celebration of our Nation's declaration of Independence. (It's become an annual much looked for party that happens around July 4th with drinking, music, video games, motorcycles and a legal display of home fireworks.)
However my response to the prompt is a bit different. (right after I giggle about my father-in-law sharing Canada's birthday)
The Display
Unicorns upon the shelf, right above my bed.
Unicorns collecting dust, precious in my head.
But in my rearranging, or was I doing dusting,
The self tipped towards the floor.
Unicorns scattered, all about the floor.
Unicorns shattered, gone forever more.
And in my cleaning of the mess, and sorting out the broken ones,
A shadow box I made.
And now my broken Unicorns have become,
Loss of Innocence on display.
I never did get around to drawing the still life from that display, but I was forward thinking enough to take a picture. I have it somewhere. And being 16 or 17, it really was symbolic of my own loss of youthful innocence.
Display
She walked on board. It was hard not to judge, not to worry or panic; this was an air flight, after all. Her veil was full, revealing only her eyes, and such beautiful eyes they were. They beckoned, oh, how they beckoned! So covered up was she that all of her beckoned, inviting the curious to look, to want to see more.
There is no doubt of the allure of the veil. It’s human nature to want more of what it can’t see, and such beauty beckons, you just knew there had to be more to display under the veils with which she enshrouded herself. You knew that, never seeing the sun, her skin would be silken, like the satin of softly polished wood. You knew that her beauty would surpass ours, who see the sun each and every day.
They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If so, then the soul of such women is all we can see. Does this serve to teach us to look beyond the outer covering? To actually not judge a book by its cover? Is this a lesson to the West to reach into intuition? To sense the person within, minus distraction, and see all the potential this carefully wrapped creature presents?
In the Middle Ages, to take the veil meant to hide oneself away from society, to focus attention on the inner world, not the outer, to protect oneself from the harshness of everyday living, to embrace a different harshness, one of discipline, denial and solitude.
What does it mean to these women now? We don’t know, unless they tell us. We cannot understand, because we judge their decision in our terms, now, today; we judge that they choose veils not willingly, but because they are told to by their cultural standard. Yet, it is still their choice, just, (perhaps in our eyes) a poorly informed choice. Is their habit merely a throwback to nomadic times when the veils protected the skin in the desert heat? Has it merely become ingrained as a cultural more because that is how habits and rituals evolve over time (and lose their meaning)?
All I know is there must be a statue of Venus under there, hiding, allowing the imagination to fly as fast as this airplane. And I know we won’t get to see it. Maybe we’re not meant to.
Greg - honestly it's money that would be better spent elsewhere, but it's a guilty pleasure.
Who would have thought? Certainly not me! :)
Morganna - that's a really lovely take on the prompt.
Cathryn - that sounds like a whole lot of fun :D
Love the poem, enjoyed the story that went with it just as much.
Writebite - a very philosophical piece today, I like it. Particularly the final three lines, which I think are excellent.
I'm trying to get caught up.... Really I am...
<>
“I’m sorry my dear you’ve reached your limit.”
The cashier smiled, but her heart wasn’t in it.
She took the store’s card and then cut it in half
So I punched her in the face and started to laugh.
Morrigan - well you're doing a great job! Also, the time and energy deprived side of me appreciates you keeping each piece fairly short :)
Really like your two opening lines, they flow so perfectly together!
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