As Life Goes On….

Standard

jonatan-pie-367745 (1)

Photo by Jonatan Pie on Unsplash

I have been busy again this past week, with phone calls to be made and arrangements for switching accounts to my name.

I gathered all of my late husband’s clothing together, folded them neatly and packed them. Then my son and I took them all to the Salvation Army.

I didn’t cry.

Someone, I hope, will find the warm shirts, the pants and socks to be of use. Someone, I like to think, that needs them and can’t afford to buy new.

This is now me, a new widow, learning to be single again.

I love the photo above of the northern lights. Have you been lucky enough to see them for yourself? If not, it is truly a spectacular sight. I have been fortunate to see them many times.

The lights appear often during bitter cold nights, when it is too cold to venture outside, but somehow I always do go out. There is something about the sky that draws me to it and I don’t mind the cold.

My bit of wisdom for this week.

Be sure to have an up to date will, a power of attorney and a personal directive. This is important to help those left behind.

 

Written by A Character

Standard

So….what does everyone think of this idea? A blog post that is “written” by a character from the author’s writing. I think it’s a great suggestion. (Thanks Facebook pages).

Character from a novel in progress:

I hate the way my former schoolmate has got famous. Okay, so not famous like across the country famous. But popular, let’s say, in my hometown. She’s got Followers for godsakes. On Facebook. She has a band, a country and oldies rock band. And she’s the lead female singer. She’s the only female in the band. Like she’s always wanted the attention and now she’s soaking it up, while I work in an automotive shop as the general clerk and gofer.

If I was less sure of myself, I’d probably be jealous. I’m not though. Jealous I mean. I am proud of the way I got out of my depression, when I was bullied in high school and got enough confidence to find a job where I have to meet the public every day.

We ran into each other one day, and that meeting made me stop and think. I wanted to improve myself so that she won’t ever be able to feel all superior again. I will do it. I’ll lose weight and fix my hair and buy new clothes and then I’ll feel better about myself.

Let the changes begin!

rock-star-1472736_960_720

The Heavy Foots – Moving In – Part One

Standard

Mr. and Mrs. Heavyfoot lived far out in the “boonies” as it was called by their urban acquaintances. They lived off the land for the most part. They hunted and fished and made use of fur pelts for winter clothing. They bought only the necessities when they came into town. Things like sugar and salt and flour, although Mr. Heavyfoot told his wife he thought she should try making homemade flour. Mrs. Heavyfoot pursed her lips and snorted at Mr. Heavyfoot. She didn’t mind their lifestyle, except when it came to things like flour making. She told her husband that if he wanted flour, he could build a mill, something she knew he would not do. Most of their time was taken up with looking after the cows and chickens, hunting and fishing, and gardening.
Mr. Heavyfoot had a bushy grey beard, and Mrs. Heavyfoot wore her long brown hair in a long braid. Neither took to the current styles of hair or clothing.
It was just before planting time when Mr. and Mrs. Heavyfoot came into town for supplies. They made their usual stop at the post office, and the couple was surprised to receive a letter. It was a large envelope, brown in color. Mr. Heavyfoot ripped it open and took out the sheet of paper it contained while they were in the post office. It was unlike any mail they received, for they mostly got garden catalogs and catalogs from LLBean.
Mr. Heavyfoot read the page, then handed it to his wife. She read it and then she threw her arms around her husband and yelled in his ear.
“Yay! We’re rich!”
The other three people in the post office along with Mrs. Onaway, the postmistress, looked at them in surprise and curiosity.
“We’ve been left some property in the city!” said Mrs. Heavyfoot.
“It was my cousin Jeff. He passed away and I’m the only remaining relative,” said Mr. Heavyfoot.
“You going to move, Hank?” asked Mr. Thomson.
“Darn right. It’s always been a dream of mine to live in the city. Maybe not forever, but we gotta try it out anyway.”
The others in the post office nodded in agreement.
“Just be sure and come back if it don’t work out,” said Jennie Cleland. She offered to look after the homestead and the animals for a while, “just in case you decide to come back.”
“Oh we will,” said Mrs. Heavyfoot. She wasn’t certain she would like living in the city after so many years on the homestead.

Mr. Heavyfoot traveled into the city and met with the lawyer at his office. He was given a tour of the apartment, which was on the fourth floor and required an elevator ride. Mr. Heavyfoot was excited when he saw the view from the apartment windows.
“I can dang near see the whole city!” he exclaimed. He grinned at the lawyer and the lawyer smiled back. The man said little, but let Mr. Heavyfoot examine the place.
Mr. Heavyfoot went back to the homestead joyful and excited. He could hardly wait to show Mrs. Heavyfoot their windfall.

And so it was that Mr. and Mrs. Heavyfoot gathered their meager belongings and brought them into the city later that month. They managed this by bringing a wagon attached to the garden tractor. Mr. Heavyfoot arranged to leave the tractor at the gas station, and told Ernie Watts that he’d pay him a storage fee every six months, until the couple knew whether or not they wanted to stay or head back to the homestead.

Mrs. Heavyfoot unpacked their clothing, such as it was, and hung it up in the closet in one of the two spacious bedrooms. Mr. Heavyfoot busied himself in looking through the telescope that was perched on the balcony. It was apparent, Mr. Heavyfoot stated to his wife, that the cousin had been interested in stargazing. When he attempted to look at the sky that first evening, though, he was disappointed to learn that the lights of the town ruined the sky and made it impossible to view the heavens.

Mrs. Heavyfoot suggested that he try and view the streets instead. Ah, but that was a mistake. For Mr. Heavyfoot, upon turning and adjusting the telescope found that he had a great view of not a star nor a street, but the lady in the apartment across the way. In fact, he didn’t mention it to Mrs. Heavyfoot, but he found the lady over there did not shut her curtains when she changed her clothes, nor when she came into the bedroom after a bath or shower. While Mr. Heavyfoot gazed in awe at this well endowed lady, Mrs. Heavyfoot tried to watch television. She found it boring. The only show she enjoyed was about the far north and the people who battled the elements in their everyday life. It so reminded her of her own existence, before the windfall, that she was brought to tears. She looked about for Mr. Heavyfoot, hoping for some sympathy and hugs, but he was again out on the balcony with the danged telescope.

spyglass

Of Ghosties and Ghouls

Standard

As the title says, ghosties – ghouls not so much.

When I was a small child, my mother and I visited a neighboring farm. They lived in an old and typical two storey farmhouse.

We sat in the kitchen, and the ladies had tea. As they visited, I saw an old lady, and I said to my mother, “Mommy, who’s that old lady that went into the cupboard?”

The cupboard was a large wardrobe-like affair with drawers and a big door. I remember to this day that the little old gray haired lady walked slow, and with a cane.

The adults had not seen anything.

Another instance that has no explanation, is one that my mother had when she was a child. She grew up in a farming community. This would have likely been in the 1920’s.

Her father, my grandfather, took the girls along when he went to harvest some fields at an abandoned property.

That night, when everyone went to bed down, there was the sound of horses’ harness, jingling and coming up the lane.

Grandpa got up and looked out the window of the old house but there was no sign of anyone.

He laid down  and reassured my mother and her sisters that there was no one there.

Once again, the little group tried to sleep. Once again, they heard the harness jingle that indicated someone was driving up the lane.

Once more, Grandpa got up and went to look. There was nothing to see.

In the morning, the family gathered up their things, and they left the house and property.

Grandpa never went back there.

My mother told me this story and she said that no one ever had an explanation.

I wonder if the deserted property was left by someone who didn’t want to leave. And they returned…..in spirit.

farmhouse2