Wishing For An Early Spring

16 Nov

Written for :

Sunday Photo Fiction – November 16th 2014

Weird shaped icicles

Harold slid Mam’s rocking chair closer to the window and into the patch of golden sunlight that crept across the polished wood floor. He sat down facing outdoors and watched with child-like excitement as the melting snow and ice formed stars along the gutter’s edge. He took a sip of his tea, closed his eyes and made a wish.

“Star light, star bright..” he chuckled out loud. Mam had taught him to wish upon stars but of course not many of his wishes had come true. No matter how hard or how loud he had made them, Mam would still beat him when the smell of whiskey was heavy on her breath. Now at the age of fifteen his life had finally changed for the better.

Pops had gone on a business trip and while he had been away Mam had deserted her son, leaving in the middle of the night with only her purse. The authorities had been called in but almost four months later she still had not been located.

Harold rose from his seat and made his way down to the basement. Behind a wood pile was a long-forgotten chest freezer. Harold cracked it open and stared in at his mother’s body frozen in the foetal position. “We’re in luck Mam” he whispered “ground should be soft enough for digging in less than a month..”



3 Nov

Admittedly this is not my favorite time of the year. As the frosty mornings make way for the impending snow, my heart and my mood plummet faster than the thermometer. I thought ( foolishly ) that if I just kept busy  this year that perhaps this would ease me through the transition. Alas this is not to be.

Daylight savings time is a bummer. The insomnia that had me up at four has now been displaced to three a.m. I suppose that on the plus side, a house entirely dusted. Vacuumed and washed floors, and two loads of laundry done by five a.m. before I leave for work at five forty-five can seem pretty impressive.

Then there is Angel. Always on my mind and in my heart. As the  third anniversary approaches I feel a tightness in my chest and the desire to cry about anything and everything. “Just get over it” is not an option. Although the pain of losing her has eased somewhat, the emptiness remains. Sweet baby Angel, Nana sends her love.

Bear with me while I climb this hill and then I will be back to enjoy the labors of my favorite bloggers..


20 Oct

Haibun Thinking – October 14th 2014

Grown up, and that is a terribly hard thing to do.
It is much easier to skip it
and go from one childhood to another.”
F. Scott Fitzgerald


A young cavalier climbed upon the black stallion and as the carousel began to turn he reached out to grasp the brass ring. Decades passed in ups and downs, an eternal loop without beginning or end, but still his arm remained extended trying to snatch the prize.
As time wore on,  and out of frustration, he began lashing out  angrily at those who love him. He began to let his inability to succeed eat away at his health and his soul. The older he got the further away the ring became.
Sadly, as our rider and his steed head into the sunset years he is still unaware that he has held the prize in his hands since birth. The greatest gift of all, slips slowly through his fingers.
The gift of     family
seeking  his pleasure
in ownership and wealth
a man’s downfall

FootPrints SCI Recovery

10 Oct

I am posting this because I believe it is important to always have hope. We are proud of our niece and especially proud of her daughter who was never willing to give up. Let them be our guiding light..


Please feel free to click on the link above and check out the amazing things that they do ..

Cherry Blossom revisited

9 Oct

Carpe Diem #578, Hatsu Hana (March 2013)

first cherry blossoms

become bridal veil of pink

until the winds blow

pmc 2013


carpet of blossoms

lie forgotten at our feet

beneath blood red moon

pmc 2014

Note: The moon turned blood red on April 15, 2014 during a total lunar eclipse visible from most of North America, South America, Hawaii and parts of Alaska.





Living in the past

7 Oct

I am happy to welcome back  Haibun Thinking after a well deserved rest . Please pay them a visit and take the time to read ..each story as diverse as the authors. It can be found here:

HAIBUN THINKING – October 7th 2014

arthur-browne                                                                                 © Arthur Browne

How could I have failed to see the beauty of the maples reflecting in the pond as large koi danced in the dappled shadows? How could I have been deaf to the songs of the birds and the chirping of crickets ?

I sat there on the granite bench beneath Buddha’s gaze and felt sorry for myself. I was drowning in self-pity and angry with my life. Why was I still here when I had nothing to live for?

A stranger came along and sat down next to me, although the benches beside me were unoccupied. I felt put out about this intrusion but was too polite to speak up. We sat in silence for several minutes and then he spoke first. He told me how he had come to this park every day for the last twenty years. Today would be his last, he was going far away and would never be able to return.

With tears in his eyes he held out his hand and placed a rose in mine. “I always toss one in the water before I leave” he said “I was hoping you would do it for me when I’m gone.”  “Presumptuous of you” I though as he walked away.

A  passing woman  stopped and stared. “Mr. Warner used to sit on that very bench every day and toss in a flower” she said “that is until last weekend. He died and they are burying him today. He will finally be reunited with his little daughter who drowned in this pool.”

I was dumbfounded. The grey clouds suddenly lifted from my soul and the warm sun thawed the ice in my veins. I have so much in my life that I have not been thankful for, choosing to only see the negative and ignoring the moments of joy each day brings. I saw how a man’s sorrow could keep him from moving forward by chaining him to the past.

Leaning forward I dropped the rose into the water. “Farewell..I will not return. You can rest in peace.”

living in the past

while ignoring the present

there is no future


Summer of ’75

5 Oct

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: October 5th 2014

Two statues symbolizing Cross Channel Swimmers

It was the summer of 1975 when  beaches up and down the New England coast were covered with sunbathers but not a soul ventured into the ocean. Steven Spielberg saw to that..

Michael and his mail-order Russian bride were enjoying the first day of their honeymoon.

“Let’s go in” Natacha insisted.

“There may be great white sharks in the water” Mike warned.

“Silly boy” she scoffed “It’s just a movie, come; teach me to swim.”

Not wishing to appear unmanly he gave in and carried her into deep waters where he held her tightly around her waist as she thrashed about. From over his shoulder she saw a tell-tale finn heading straight for them. At the last possible moment she broke free and swam for the shore in the long effortless strokes.

“SHARK” she screamed

Poor Michael, in spite of being an olympic class swimmer, could not keep up. The new widow tried to look upset as the remains of the shark’s lunch was pulled from the water..

you don’t need to be the better swimmer to escape a shark .. only faster

Le Sommelier

24 Sep


Written for: Friday Fictioneers

26 September 2014

Hosted on  September 24, 2014 by rochellewisoff

Copyright - Marie Gail Stratford

Le Sommelier

Albert  has invited a co-worker to his home intending to impress her by preparing a gourmet meal. When his guest arrives he glances over at his german shepherd Marcel. “Go down to the cellar and bring me back a bottle of red.” he tells the dog.

The woman looks amazed a few minutes later when the dog returns with a bottle of wine in his mouth which he lays at his master’s feet. “What an incredibly smart dog!” she says completely awestruck.

“He’s not as smart as you think” replies her host “darn dog can’t tell the difference between a shiraz and a merlot.”




22 Sep

written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: September 21st 2014

A bubble

a dancer who wore just a bubble

made me forget that I was in deep trouble

her routine well rehearsed

but my fantasy burst

when I noticed her chin had some stubble

Blessed Salts Inc.

18 Sep

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

19 September 2014


Photo copyright: Dawn Q. Landau or even better..Tales From the Motherland Facebook page and give her a “like”


The C.E.O of Blessed Salts Inc. was giving a presentation to his American investors.

“We only hire workers who are over the age of seventy” he said proudly. “In exchange for their labor they are given free room and board in luxury suites. We also supply clothing and all necessities of life.”

“Interesting concept” says the Governor of Vermont “does that keep them from stealing?”

“Unfortunately no” came the answer as a gunshot rang out “if we catch them we shoot them. They are  going to  burden  their families if we fire them. Besides,  the elderly are expendable.”


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