Three Word Thursday #9

"Timmy! Come here, will you please? Now!"

The tone of mother's voice told Timmy he had better obey, and fast. He carefully folded the papers he had been studying and tucked them under the pillow. Then he sped downstairs into the kitchen from where mother's voice had come.

"Just what is this jussulent stuff in this crooked old pot? And what was it doing in my lardor?"

Timmy glanced at mother's tenebrous brow, then lowered his looks and fidgeted uncomfortably but no words came from his mouth.

"Another potion? Been reading that wizardy nonsense again? How many times do I have to tell you there is no such thing as magic and wizards only exist in tales! I wish you were so ebullient about school as you are about those silly old parchments the great grandmother had kept in her chest."

"They are called anopistographs, and..." Timmy started, but then decided it best to shut up.

"I don't care what they are called. If I ever find anything strange in the house again, you will get rid of them all! Now go and do your homework! But first get this hitonious broth out of my sight and don't even think of trying to hide it from me!"

Timmy sighed, carefully lifted the pot with its content and staggered through the door toward the backyard, taking care not to spill a drop. If his plan worked, he would never have to do another homework again. But the magic would have to wait for a better occasion. Or, maybe... He proceeded through the yard and paused by the barn where he put his cargo down to rest and think. Down by the brook, just a mile away, was a cavern hidden from the sight of the uninitiated. He and his cousin had discovered it a couple of summers ago and spent many a happy hour there, plotting all kinds of adventures. His cousin had gone back to the city but he could use their hiding place.

As he stood up, determined to carry out his plan, he accidentally knocked over the ragged old pot. He watched in horror as it hit a stone, shattered to pieces and its content spilt across the ground and over his tattered tennis shoes. Only a good half an hour later, when nothing happened, did he dare to move. He descended to the brook to wash the broth from the shoes and ran home. There he threw himself on the bed, sobbing. His mother might be right after all, and there is no way to avoid the tedious homework.

A haiku

dog tooth violet (erithronium dens-canis)


trying to capture
the perfect angle -
mud on my knees


(and still, i'm less than happy with the way the shot turned out)

A T-shirt day

Only a few days ago winter gear and waterproof footwear was required for any outdoor activity. It was cold and wintry and pouring with rain.

Today, however, we finally got some sunshine and a warm spring day. In fact, too warm for the season, although I won't complain about having to take off all the clothing other than jeans and a T-shirt for the first time this year. In the morning the tiny plum tree in the neighbourhood sported nothing but bare branches. At the end of the day half of those branches were covered in tiny white blossoms.

The bees are active, as are the ants, an occasional butterfly flutters by, the underbrush is plush with early spring blossoms, green is sprouting everywhere...

Ah, the miracle of spring!

Bug alert or An afternoon photo session with an unexpected visitor

So, the rain has finally stopped although we're still seeing very little blue sky. That, however, didn't stop one beetle to touch down in the middle of my just awakened lavender. The minuscule knight in a shiny chitinous armour gallantly allowed me to shoot him from every attainable angle.

Some of the results of that photo session can be seen in the following collage. Enjoy (or not).

Friday Quivel (sort of)

there are no words

known to humankind

able to express

the complete and utter

disgust

i feel

at the weather

we've been getting for

what seems

forever

clouds and rain

mist and snow

more clouds

more rain

more...

where is the sun?

the blue sky?

not here... not ever more, it seems

teterrimous
hitonious...

strong words

but not nearly

strong enough

for what i feel

now, don't get me wrong

i quite enjoy

the gentle susurrus

of rain upon

ebullient young leaves

i don't mind

a passing cloud

a shower even, or a thunderstorm

but all we get

is grey and more grey

tenebrous sky

and water pouring down
whichever way you can imagine

no sun

no azure...

just the blues

***

i wonder

how the first organic matter

in the jussulent primeval sea

came to be

what they felt

those very first organisms

floating merrily

transforming one thing

into another

or maybe

swallowing

each other...

are we any different?

Three Word Thursday #8

following on from here and here

"Wha... where am I?" The thought pierced Sybil's mind. She wasn't feeling well. Through the haze surrounding her thoughts she could hear a soft susurrus of a conversation in the propinquity. As her mind became clearer, she could hear two hushed male voices but couldn't distinguish the words. She tried to move but her body was hurting and all she could muster was a slight tremble of her eyelids so she gave up the effort. She concentrated on the voices instead.

"Did you see?" she could hear the first voice in a slightly excited pitch and tried to figure out whose it was. "Her eyelids moved!" There was no mistake - the voice was her father's.

"Yes, for a moment it seemed so... oh how I wish it were true! But it can't be... the doctors said she wouldn't be awake for at least another day, and even then..." She could feel her heart beat stronger. This voice belonged to the man she loved.

"The doctors can be wrong, can't they! And Sybil is a strong girl."

"She sure is. The way she infiltrated into their lines was worthy of admiration. The sex affair was her idea and she carried it out to perfection, thus gaining their trust and the access to the most confidential information. We couldn't have made it without her. Oh, and your help, of course. Publishing the story was an important part of the operation."

"And to think how she kept me in nescience all the while. I'm glad you stopped using that pipe, though."

"I hated the thing almost as much as that ancient typewriter. But it was part of the plan so I put up with it. Even you believed I was what I pretended to be: a grumpy old man revelling in other people's misery. And as such I didn't pose a threat to the drug cartel bosses, or so they thought."

"We all misjudged you big time. Your computer savvy is awesome, and once you and Sybil had gathered enough incriminating evidence, it was easy to send in th cavalry and do away with the bad guys. Nobody could have predicted they would leave a bomb in their headquartes."

"Well, Sybil did, and it almost cost her life. But many men could have died if she hadn't rushed them out of the building. She was the last to leave, and the blast hit her on the way out. It's almost a miracle she wasn't crushed by its force. The concussion is no laughing matter, though, but the doctors say she's going to make it. I want to tell you something, and I hope you'll consent. We've been talking about quitting the job after this operation and the Agency has agreed. I want to marry her as soon as she's well enough and..."

At that moment Sybil's eyes sprung open and a faint smile spread over her face.

***

the hostess of TWT is the awesome quilly

Rain rain go away... and stuff

Oh well, this nursery rhyme keeps coming to mind lately. Any guesses as to why this should be the case? (no need to answer that; after all it's too easy, much easier than quilly's Punny Mondays anyway)

Anycaugh, I'm feeling better if still tremendously low on energy and having to work doesn't exactly help.

Apologies to everyone for not being able to visit this last week. Will try to make up for that in the following days.

Three Word Thursday is scheduled for midnight GMT. I'm not too pleased with what I came out with this time but... well, it will have to do.