What the witch saw...

 From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by.....

From her small balcony, the witch watched the world go by, remembering sadly her lovely forest home.  A forest fire had raged and taken her ancient house, with the only safe place to hide was behind an old iron stove.

Sigh, so many memories…

Today Wanda was waiting for the painter, whom she had hired from a town 200 miles away, to come and cover the hideous pale blue kitchen walls with bright swirls and stripes. How can anyone stand such blandness, no excitement, no taste?

Wanda rocked and gazed through the screened in-balcony, seeing neighbors was along the street in front of what was now her home.  A jogger, who was drinking bottle water…well, he's a bit stringy! Tsk. Tsk. 

Then a muscular man walking his miniature poodle strolled by.  My, he’s burned off every bit of fat…  He waved at Wanda, as she called out, “Hello, dearie!”

Then the mailman who walked briskly, no time to linger…then the old woman with walker, skin sagging from her bones…

Finally, a rusty truck braked in front of her house, and “Painter Pete” stepped out.  “Howdy there, Mz Wanda!  I’m runnin’ a bit late, but…”  Wanda had ceased listening to his prattle.  She was instead noticing fat buttocks, portly love handles, a pudgy gut, and massive possibilities. 

“Come right in, Mr. Pete!  I have been waiting for you!”

Yes, Wanda had been waiting.  The oven was hot, the cleaver sharpened, and a hypodermic heavy duty sedative waiting.  Knocking someone out with an iron shovel was so old school.

Don't you just love Cloris Leachman?

 

Wednesday words took a slow turn May 2015 when a photo prompt (see yellow house with balcony) was the assignment.

 

Flying for Romance

Entomology

 Sheila was not pleased. No, not pleased at all.

     Her BFF Brenda said that flying down to Florida in October would be a real hoot, and all the gang would be hanging around.  So Sheila, Brenda, Kimberly, and all the other damsels headed down to their winter spot in Florida.  “Eddie will be there!” Brenda had said. 

          

  So they went, and hit the water at high speed, skimming over the shimmering glassy pond, trying out new maneuvers, out-spinning the other.  It had all started so perfectly.  The dragons, including Eddie, were keeping all their eyes on the damsels as they made the first pass-by.  Brenda turned to give Eddie that coy look that said so much.

            That was her mistake.  Out from the depths of the quiet waters came a wide-mouth bass, and gulped her down in one smooth motion before sinking down into the waters.  Gone, just like that.  Brenda was gone.

big mouth bass

                                                           

            The tragedy hit them all like a strong wind, and the damsels headed to the shade of the cypress at the edge of the water.  “What happened to her?!  Didn’t she see that one coming?”  Kimberly spoke bitterly.  She was always that way, so quick to speak, to judge the other damsels.  The others hushed her, while Sheila came to terms with the loss of her friend.  Kimberly was right.  Brenda knew better, but dammit, Eddie caught her eyes, and that was all it took.

            This was to be their season, their time to connect with the dragons and leave some larvae in the quiet waters.  Brenda let that get in the way of survival, and see what happened to her.  Sheila shook out her gossamer wings, and turned to face Kimberly.  

“Brenda was a fool.  We know that.  But, we have to watch out for each other, and we forgot that.”  All the lenses in her eyes scanned the water, the trees, the sky, the grass—looking for the predators that came so quietly.  “Now, let’s get out there, and do what we do best:  feast on mosquitoes and bugs, shake the air with our wings, and be the damsels we were born to be!”

            As if one, the damsels rose into the air, and skimmed down across the swamp grass, catching insects as their laughter rang behind them.

            Some dragons angled in to catch up with them.  Eddie grew level with Sheila, “Say, uh, Sheila,” he stammered.  “Awful sorry about Brenda.  She seemed a good sort.  Uhm, would you like to go over to the willow, and check out some lower branches with me?”  Eddie’s eyes glistened with deeper meaning.

            Sheila kept her course and eyes searching around, but she devoted a few lenses to observe Eddie.  He was attractive in that bad-boy way, and she could see what made Brenda focus on him.    She gave the matter some thought, and then gave him the only answer she could, which was.......

                              This was the photo used for the photo prompt.

This was one of the first blog posts I wrote  ten years ago. That anyone read it (12 people) with 3 comments surprised me. Just one of my silly little stories!

Food, Glorious Food

Food. Give me food.

Think back to your youth and remember foods that you loved, that was a peculiar speciality for your home area. What was it? Would you eat it now?

Take your time and peruse the food below. As you say, ewww, try to recall history where cooks always found a way to stretch a dollar/pound and feed a family. 

Amazon has quite an extensive selection.

Varied menu
Granted, this menu is decidedly upscale. Blackberry bread pudding? Oh, yeah.

creamed squirrel over fried grits

Wines for Wild game pairings

Hasenpfeffer rabbit stew

stuffed skunk

Cake for dessert Crazy cakes

In our rural area, where some farmers still live in "hollers/hollows", wild game is a food source, and is still hunted. Deer and Elk hunting are important in the economy of Pike County, Illinois.  Celebrities and sports figures can be seen in the local diner in November. 

Southerners also hunt these wild animals, as part of their food base. 

Did our family eat wild game? You betcha, it was part of the culture. Mom prepared rabbit, squirrel, snapping turtle, ducks, geese, venison, elk, and frog legs. She emphatically refused possum and skunk. "Have to draw the line somewhere."

Since this was part of the culture and time, we didn't think anything about our dinner. Mom could cook anything, wild or not.

At least now, canned products may be purchased which removes hunting, killing, cleaning, skinning, and cooking. Two cans of creamed possum for $12? Worth every penny.

Sites for further information:  Amazon cookbooks.  Broken Arrow Ranch, Amazon Wild Meat assortments

**These days, some cans are gag gifts. Have to read the can label carefully to confirm that. "Here the beavers have been known to get under your covers and snuggle you to sleep."

Soar on Wings

R.A. Nature Photography

I have written this first paragraph so many times, each time hoping it would improve eventually.  Every time it sounded like I knew a lot about eagles, etc. which I sure don't.  The paragraphs bored me to tears.  All I can really say with any degree of confidence is what I have observed myself.

Lunch

To watch eagles soaring and catching the thermals is best described as amazing.  Seeing those magnificent birds soaring high and gliding took my breath away.  Then, to gaze at them swoop down to the River, scoop up a fish, and disappear in the trees, well, you just cannot imagine.

When waterways in Canada and Great Lakes freeze over, eagles fly down to my stretch of the country to the Mississippi where the River flows freely and fish are swimming around. Eagles will eat live or dead fish, doesn't matter.

Russ Adams

These photos used were taken near The Marina at the Illinois side of Mississippi River, my home area.  Closest city for reference is Louisiana, MO, just down the River from Hannibal, Missouri (Mark Twain's birthplace). Bird watchers estimate there are 2,000 birds each year along the River in the zone from Alton, IL, to this area, Pike County.**

R.A. Nature Photography

Groups of eagles are called a "kettle", at any given spot, and Birders find it difficult to count.  With all with their feathers fluffed out for warmth or riding the chunks of river ice, this sight stays in my own memory. No photos are ever needed.

Yet those who wait for the Lord 

Will gain strength;

They will mount up with wings like eagles,

They will run and not get tired,

They will walk and not become weary.

Isaiah 40:31

**The photos were taken by a fellow student from high school, Russ Adams. Well done, Russ.

What I Saw on the Drive Home

The valley between the sloping hills stretched and wound around with the creek.  The brittle golden fields met the rocky hills, where rows of avocado groves clung to the rocky sides.  The wind rustled the leaves, birds circled in the sky, and creatures scurried about their lives.  I looked out across the valley and to the mountains beyond.

courtesy of Bing.com

The birds, I remember the birds the most.  The big turkey buzzards cruised on the rising air currents, with their black wings tips furled out.  Around and around, searching for carrion—they hardly seemed to move.  Desperate songbirds stayed close to earth, darting from tree to tree.  Had to get out of sight, get to the next branch.  The black crows sang that annoying song of theirs.  How could any bird be so annoying and yet so beautiful with their glossy feathers, all at the same time?

A red tailed hawk’s cry sliced through the quiet.  Up high, he had been riding the waves of air, but his predator’s eyes remained earth bound.  He folded his wings in, tucked his head down, and dove out of the sky.  It was so fast, so incredibly fast. 

Hawk in flight

He went out of sight, behind an outcropping of rock and manzanita.  In the space of one breath, the hawk rose into the air, a furry rodent in his talons.  Did I really see that happen?  I watched the red tailed hawk recede into the distance, until he was gone.  If I had blinked, I would have missed that display of such beauty and such power.