I can't remember a time when more than one family member went through some sort of medical or emotional crisis within two or three short weeks. It happened this month. It was beginning to feel like we should be dabbing lambs' blood on the front door to have the wrath of God pass over.
It was impractical to consider writing. Things happened too fast. I'm sure that other writers have faced this sort of thing, but have never experienced it for myself until October. My respect for these colleagues has grown immensely.
I noted that my escape has been through writing. When that is not possible, my belly is exposed to the arrows slung by the circumstances at hand. Oh wait, I suddenly remember that someone else is watching over me and everyone else.
How easy I forget sometimes.
Gary
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Sunday, October 5, 2014
Color Me Concord Purple
Seldom do I get very excited about what grows out of my jungle in the back yard, but this year is a major exception. This is the first year out of the last seven or eight that I have a bountiful crop of grapes hanging from my arbor.
Granted, there aren't enough to make a vat of wine (I don't drink anymore anyhow), but there's plenty to play Caesar Augustus and pop them into my mouth while quaffing a fine root beer and watching the Seahawks.
I've noticed that there are a few tiny birds who like my grapes as well, but they don't take much. I haven't even had any raccoons raid the stores.
I am asked, "What do you do with the seeds?"
Duh, I spit them out like watermelon seeds? Is everything in the grocery store seedless these days? I just make sure that Lily the Terrorist doesn't get any. They're not supposed to be good for dogs - even terrorists. It's a good thing she doesn't like 'em anyway.
I didn't even know when these things ripened until this year. They were always frozen or ripped off by some critter before they were ready before. Now I know. I will mark this on my calendar for next year and keep my fingers crossed.
Between the grapes and the blackberries, I could become a king of my hill!
Granted, there aren't enough to make a vat of wine (I don't drink anymore anyhow), but there's plenty to play Caesar Augustus and pop them into my mouth while quaffing a fine root beer and watching the Seahawks.
I've noticed that there are a few tiny birds who like my grapes as well, but they don't take much. I haven't even had any raccoons raid the stores.
I am asked, "What do you do with the seeds?"
Duh, I spit them out like watermelon seeds? Is everything in the grocery store seedless these days? I just make sure that Lily the Terrorist doesn't get any. They're not supposed to be good for dogs - even terrorists. It's a good thing she doesn't like 'em anyway.
I didn't even know when these things ripened until this year. They were always frozen or ripped off by some critter before they were ready before. Now I know. I will mark this on my calendar for next year and keep my fingers crossed.
Between the grapes and the blackberries, I could become a king of my hill!
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