Monday, October 20, 2014

How old are you, Tree?


The tree is very green, but my editing skills somehow added a yellow tinge.  Oh, well.

To call the tree "old" would be inadequate.  Seemingly, the pine had survived decades and had been old even when Jenny was of age to notice it.  Mama, is that tree old?...Yes, it is old….How old?...It has been here since I was your age.

Tree stood tall, as farm houses were new and when farm houses fell apart.  Roads were built, children played around Tree, horses gave way to cars.

Locals knew it had been struck by lightening, suffering fire, but the rain left it to sizzle. 


As she grew and gazed at the passing landscape on the school bus, Jenny looked for Tree, anticipating it. ...around this curve...across this bridge...by Green's farm...up the rise..  From the top of that rise, the tree suddenly appeared and every time it took her breath away.

This tree was made for climbing, but sadly not for me at this stage.

Fifty-five years later, Jenny returned to the tree and finally climbed up the shallow drainage ditch to stand it the tree’s trunk, looking up into its branches reaching to the sun.

 How old are you, tree? She wondered.

Old, it answered.

S

County Hwy 7, Pike County, Nebo-Pittsfield road, Illinois
Long.-90.781594
Lat. 39.41907
Not entirely accurate
I would not bet the family farm on
this .





***This is its Google Map 3D Location:




Friday, October 17, 2014

Do you remember....


Do you remember your first box of crayons?

Bern, Bern
Someone precious to me

How about a winter day?

 
December, 1995


Do you remember the Day after Christmas?

Day after Christmas, 1959



How about a forced posed picture?


My older brother at one year old


If you do, how blessed you are!

Homesick, so homesick.  I want to see my siblings and my aunt & uncle, laugh, and tell stories.  This is the closest I will get for a while.


Thursday, October 16, 2014

Wednesday Words: Mary and Martha

sisters, sisters...
16 October 2014

Dear Martha,

Your letter pulled me from a pit of despair.  If ever there were awards for "Surviving Multiple Plethora of Childhood Illnesses", I would be inducted into the Hall of Matriarchal Fame.

The triplets have developed a chain of cursed plagues:  Influenza, chicken pox (despite the vaccine), strep throat, ear infections, and worms (?).

Is this God's thunderbolt of retribution for swearing during Mass?  Loudly swearing at Clarisse-the-She-Devil, the mistress of of insubordination?

As you know, my house was never a museum, but now a City Inspector would cover the house with "Condemned" yellow tape.

Must go. Alex-the-Spontaneous is vomiting on the cat. Christopher-the-Wild-Child is smearing the vomit on the bathroom mirror.

Your sister,

Mary-the-Desperate 


Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio - Martha and Mary Magdalene - WGA04101.jpg
Source: Wikipedia
May thanks to Delores at Under the Porch Light for providing the six words (above, underlined) with which to wrestle and write.  Please click on the Methodist Church in the right sidebar, to access some fine writing.  AND please join this wildly-diverse writing group and put your own take on the crazy words.
Delores is awesome and such a joy!