♦◊♦
Other Wordless Friends—
Cheryl Andrews
Kristen den Hartog
Sheree Fitch
Allyson Latta
Elizabeth Yeoman
And David Williams, photogrpaher and host of a WW blog hop.
Author: carin
squirrelyard bully
Oh sure. He looks sweet enough.
But he’s a little red dictator.
Screaming and chuntering at anything that even thinks of interrupting his meal.
And he prefers to eat alone, thankyouverymuch.
See that blur of black in the background?
That’s a much bigger fella waiting his turn.
Sometimes there’s a queue.
Everybody knows the rules.
The [seriously more dignified] greys and blacks hide out in the spruce, watching, waiting, drumming their impatient little claws, not daring to grab a morsel because that only means being chased unceremoniously into the next yard by a little twirp. And who has the energy for all that running on an empty stomach?
Plus it’s embarrassing.
The smart ones don’t even bother showing up until His Twirpness has burped and moved on.
Moral of the story: it’s not as easy as one might think, being squirrely.
a league of nomads
“We were hockey gypsies, heading down another gravel road every weekend, plowing into the heart of that magnificent northern landscape. We never gave a thought to being deprived as we travelled, to being shut out of the regular league system. We never gave a thought to being Indian. Different. We only thought of the game and the brotherhood that bound us together off the ice, in the van, on the plank floors of reservation houses, in the truck stop diners where if we’d won we had a little to splurge on a burger and soup before we hit the road again. Small joys. All of them tied together, entwined to form an experience we would not have traded for any other. We were a league of nomads, mad for the game, mad for the road, mad for ice and snow, an Arctic wind on our faces and a frozen puck on the blade of our sticks.”
~ from Indian Horse, by Richard Wagamese
wordless wednesday
same dance floor, different music
wordless wednesday
what’s not litter
1. A green tennis ball stuck to the ice, immoveable, which is just as well once I realize that a gallumping, tail-wagging, tongue-lolling beast will likely be back tonight or tomorrow to look for it. And if it’s not IN ITS PLACE there will be hell to pay.
◊
2. Anything red and ribbony and tied to a tree.
Or indeed any ribbony colour.
◊
3. Things on TOP of a garbage bin.
Especially if that thing turns out to be a full Timmy’s.
◊
4. See #1 above. [No ice but same reasoning applies.]
wedding party under miami moon
It was a warm and windy night
They were kite sailing in the bay,
Miami as a backdrop.
I was being silly.
The sky grew dark
the way skies do
especially at night
and the moon was out and there was a wedding on the beach.
The bride laughed as the wind whipped her skirt and shawl and later the wedding party, such as it was, a few friends, had dinner on the patio, all casual and chatty, not a young couple, fifty-ish. Not boisterous. Not like it was new or anything, this wedding lark. Not like there was anything to prove.
I didn’t get a picture of them.
But I got a star.
Some blue lights.
And a raccoon.
In the light of that wedding party moon.
◊♦◊
More Travel:
Montreal
Prince Edward Island
Stratford
Niagara Region
Peterborough
Chile
Vancouver
wordless wednesday
go fly a kite
“A kite is a victim you are sure of.
You love it because it pulls
gentle enough to call you master,
strong enough to call you fool;
because it lives
like a desperate trained falcon
in the high sweet air,
and you can always haul it down
to tame it in your drawer.”
♦
—from ‘A Kite is a Victim’ (The Spice-Box of Earth), by Leonard Cohen”
Matilda Magtree 