Overcoming Bloglessness



This roadside shrine is approaching monument level. It’s been lovingly maintained for the three years I’ve been here. I saw a woman there with a weed-whacker one day, tending the plot. I’m guessing it was her mother who died there. Her mother loved Jesus and Betty Boop. Her mother loved America and her mother fed the birds.  She was a good mother, much beloved.


It looks like litter to me when I’m driving by at 60 mph. Tchotchkes, dried up wreaths and faded plastic flowers don’t honor anybody. Crosses, to me are instruments of torture, representative of cruelty and superstition.


I don’t visit graves. There’s nothing there for me other than history.
It looks like litter to me. But it also looks like love.





“Have you ever become obsessed with something? Tell us about something that captivates your attention like nothing else.”


I’m crazy about ravens. I don’t know if I’d say obsessed; maybe a bit more interested then your average Joe. I drop what I’m doing and come running whenever Husband says “Here comes your bird”. If there’s no corn muffin on the lawn I run to the kitchen to get one, then I run to the front door and fling it out on the lawn. I call out, “Raven” so he’ll learn my voice. Does that sound like obsession?

One of the ravens I bake for is named Greyray because the underside of his wings looks greyish. I wonder if that’s a sign of old age? I hadn’t seen him for a couple of days, but yesterday was snowy and cold so he came by several times for muffins. His wife, who hasn’t told me her name, will sometimes fly by and even land near a muffin, but not pick it up. Instead, she flies away to tell her husband that she’d like a muffin and he comes to get it. Sometimes they eat it in the field where I can see them. Sometimes they take it away to their nest or maybe they cache it for later.

I often see a red-tail hawk shoot into the scene and give chase. The hawk hopes the raven has found something meaty and is trying to get him to drop his find, but a hawk would be disappointed with a corn muffin. Anyway, Greyray always gets away with his treat.
I wonder if they have babies in the nest or eggs, ready to hatch. I wonder if they’ll teach their young where to get the best corn muffins. I hope so!

Marsh Mellow




When I hear the word mellow my brain says marshmellow. I know the word is really marshmallow, with an A, but everyone pronounces it marshmEllow, which seems appropriate because what could be more mellow than a sweet, pillowy, marshmellow? I’ve never been stressed out while eating one. Have you?

This is a marshmallow flower. Althaea officinalis. It’s been used medicinally since ancient times. It’s lovely, but it doesn’t toast well.


Elbow Grease

I guess I was a particularly dirty girl that day Mom told me to wash up, and use some elbow grease. I didn’t know what she meant. I assumed that elbow grease must be that scum that accumulates under a bar of soap, so that’s what I used on my dirty elbows.

After 31 years of hard labor, believe me, I now thoroughly understand the meaning of elbow grease. The best way to get the job done is just to jump in there and do it. Don’t dawdle. Develop a system. Work efficiently. Bust your butt. Use some elbow grease.

Like it says in the song,

“All you have to do is
put your mind to it,
knuckle down,
buckle down,
do it,
do it,
do it.”

via Daily Prompt: Wasted Days and Wasted Nights.

Tell us your tried and true techniques for focusing when that deadline looms and you need to get work done. In other words, how do you avoid wasted days and wasted nights?

Little Ones


Daily Prompt: In the Summertime.

Theoretically, summer will return to the polar-vortex-battered Northern Hemisphere. What are you looking forward to doing this summer? If you’re in the Southern Hemisphere, what are your fondest memories of Summer past?



I’m looking forward to seeing the little ones this summer.






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