Months of Madness

One might think that I was referring to the pandemic with that title. But actually for once it’s not at the front of my mind.

No it’s just that time of year again. The one where I go missing from this blog for long periods. This will be especially true this year and here is a run down of why. Read on and then stand in line to call me crazy.

Make Monday Meaningful

Something I read yesterday stuck with me and early early this am I created my own version. Then I coloured it and organized the side of the fridge around it. It takes me to “my happy”.

Fav Combo for #Sundaystills

This has to have been the easiest #Sundaystills post to pull together EVER! My kids (and their spouses) and all the pets. Now technically the cows in the second picture are not pets in the usual sense but we get a lot of enjoyment out of watching them. The dogs have changed over the years and the kids have left home while the grandchildren change all the time. But what doesn’t change is how this is it. The important things in my life distilled down into one post.

Head Down Blinders On

A mere few decade of months ago I read the words that Kitty O’Meara penned and wrote a post called Not at Peace. The original words would roll around in my head occasionally but now they don’t seem to ring true. Sadly those words were lost on far too many here and around the world. The change in the tone texture of these words have been rattling around in my head for a while.

But then I worried. Is this plagiarism? So I called up the services of an impartial outside editor to review what I wrote and get an honest opinion. We had a long phone conversation (in itself a wonderful delight) and in the end I felt that the artistic license with the words were honouring the original structure but changing the intent. Which is allowable, perhaps even encouraged? I even found a poetry site that the first lesson was to change a classic poem by switching out certain words and in those examples they put the revisions in bold as I have done below.

“Imitation, conscious imitation, is one of the great methods, perhaps the method of learning to write. The ancients, the Elizabethans, knew this, profited by it, and were not disturbed. As a son of Ben [Jonson], Herrick more than once rewrote Jonson, who, in turn, drew heavily on the classics. And so on.”—Theodore Roethke, “How to Write Like Somebody Else”

Visual on Violet

I am enjoying these #SundayStills blog prompts as it is a nice “light” post and a distraction from the real world which at this moment seems flipping scary. So here is my take on violet to add into the mix that Terry over at https://secondwindleisure.com/photography/sunday-stills-photo-challenge/ runs in her “spare time” amongst moving into a new house! I love that I have found this blogging community and appreciate the challenges as well as the encouragement received.

In Stark Contrast

The quiet is broken by a pair of geese who land on the grass. The road traffic noise is an intermittent rumble. The sun feels warm and a sense of peace should be present.

Slowly Emerging

I had wanted to do an emerging post with the theme about how your children and grandchildren emerge whole but their personalities take shape over time. But then somehow the post Half a life time grew out of some of those thoughts and other things just didn’t gel the way I saw them, aka the words didn’t want to come.

Friday’s Finest

Pizza night usually equals Friday night family & friends time. The kitchen is full of noise, toppings and hands reaching for this and that. The beer flows and, if we are lucky, supper is eaten on the patio.

That kind of night seems like a very old memory. I know, I know, it’s only been 14 months. Life will resume but it won’t be this summer. So I decided I needed to lighten my mood and post something that isn’t introspect and morose depressing grumpy. It falls in line with a new fun blogging challenge called “what’s on your plate”. No categories and no real rules; just bloggers connecting during this eat alone at home time.

Half a life time

He cast a shy sideways glance at the elderly man riding in the scooter.

Washing Day

It started innocently enough with a game of hide and dust. The wee ones chattered away to hiding spots in other rooms and I counted loudly while dusting quickly. There was laughter and giggles about being found or not even hiding but just running into other rooms. This was followed with a game of chase the vacuum or be chased by the vacuum. We then proceeded to go back to the main floor; laundry bucket in one hand and the wee lad holding my other hand. It all seems good right?