The turkey roaster is back on shelf and the leftovers are gone. All of my best China dishes are stored and the silverware in the walnut chest with the brass closure shines, polished and bright.
My house is in perfect order. The steam in my engine is still alive and well.
Tootie's silky coat shimmers and smells like fragrant oatmeal shampoo.
Her manicure and pedicure went well - no blood in sight.
Our lady of leisure is lounging on a favorite couch in the living room, admiring her clips. Anytime now, she will be taking time out of her busy schedule to open her mouth, like a crocodile. The girl is a yawner!
I will be tip-toeing around a napping dog soon.
Paul is on the flat roof searching out a stubborn leak near a vent and the sun is doing its best to warm up the roof cement again.
He has been very busy at his job at Sears. Sales are getting off to a good start this holiday season and that gives him satisfaction.
I am getting ready to decorate the house with my vintage seasonal keepsakes and a few additions to my collection of this and that.
We retired the large artificial pine trees and brought out the smaller optically lit trees. That works well with my hoard of Christmas related treasures.
The little blue house at the end of the road will be smiling from wall to wall and singing from the rooftop when the works are done, and; we shall do the same.
I don't know when I will find time to add thoughts to the book of memories that I am working on, again.
This writer has been focusing on several other projects, including poetry.
Recently my poem, "Woman-Tree-Love- Death" captured third prize in a national contest.
The poem using extended metaphors is the second effort that I submitted to the company.
The first poem, "The Planting Place" merited a third place honor, as well.
It is my hope, that; the next one will earn me a greater level of acceptance.
If "Threading Thoughts," a poem written in iambic pentameter and adheres to the rules of contest does not place; I know how to handle rejection. Its all part of the journey and growing experience.
Another thing, there are more verses where that came from and I am willing to share. The anthologies where the above mentioned poems are featured are, respectively, "Times Like These" and "Endless Horizons" (New Light).
The poetry books are available through Amazon and Barnes an Noble. A friend theorized that I spend a considerable amount of time at my computer writing and honing my works. Truth is, not so. keeping this home's fires burning is very close to a fulltime job.
Writing is a pleasurable pastime that I treat myself too, at the end of the day, when evening shadows fall and my world sleeps. Today, I took advantage of the warm sunshine. I ambled about the property in search of wildlife and several sprigs of bittersweet to fill my wicker basket, later.
I saw a few blue jays moving about and trying to drive a squirrel out of the neighborhood, in an attempt take charge of his winter store.
This nut eavesdropped on their loud conversation with the stirred up little bushy tailed nest dweller.
Then, I spooked the would-be thieves, on purpose, and gave the rodent a thumbs up. I am sure he or she was not impressed with my good deed. It is safe to say, I felt like a peacemaker.
A couple of nosy and noisy black crows, that I am friendly with, wanted to argue, but I wasn't interested in bantering with them on this lovely day. I spotted something slithering beneath an accumulation of rotting and dryer leaves and they made me lose what could have been a significant find.
I did not find the bittersweet that once climbed a tree along the easement of the property that I know so well.
This outdoor girl does not venture to the back 40, alone, anymore, therefore; I could not check out the woody bittersweet weeds/ vines that climb the trees amid the brambles of the spills today.
You would be surprised at what lurks in those pit hills that I love so much, including trespassers.
Hopefully, soon, I will find a few of the little orange berries on a stick that I seek before winter's worst weather tells me to forget it and to be grateful for the nuts in the bucket.
The lost keys are still bothering me too. Oh where, Oh where can they be?
Paul did cut the walking paths that I walked on and he did place the blame on himself.
Sorry to say, my walk was a dry run, in that regard.
I breathed in that fresh air, thanked God for my very small, but big wonderful world, smiling and feeling good. Tomorrow is another day, but for today; I can not ask my maker for more.
I can be reached by phone at 1-812-446- 4852 or by email at email@example.com.