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horses galloping riders madly seeking
wispy forest woman seer hidden in sight
warm lantern reflects mossy sunlight
~
JAM (c) 14Oct2012
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Title explained:
1. http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/2012/10/14/__picture-it-write-44/
2. wanted to do picture challenge in less than 50 words
3. Amanda Todd, Amanda Todd, Amanda Todd
Wooden clothes pegs in her mouth, cold-reddened hands pinning laundry on the line. A meager sun seeps between frustrated clouds. She carries board-stiff clothing gloveless, her frost bitten feet shoeing deep Ontario snow back into the house, the incisive eye of one lonesome bird on a wire her undoing.
JAM © 9Oct2012
http://first50.wordpress.com/2012/10/09/bird-on-a-wire/
“Goddammit. I wish I had some maple walnut ice cream.”
I, being seven, just looked at my pregnant mama’s belly and wished I could give her some maple walnut ice cream. Our rural home meant no corner store convenience and I knew we would both have to do without.
“Hey, I have an idea,” I said, thinking myself quite ingenious for remembering we’d called dad home when mom had false labor a couple of weeks before. “Let’s phone dad at work and ask him to get some on the way home.”
“Dad won’t be home until we’re fast asleep. I don’t really need any ice cream. We’ll just make do,” Mom said.
She put her feet up on the green chenille foot stool that matched the arm-chair and closed her eyes. As the oldest, I got to stay up later and I felt quite important knowing mom was resting and I was the one looking after things with my younger sister already fast asleep in her room upstairs.
Our kitchen was green. Green walls, green cupboards and a black and white checkered floor that always made me want to play hopscotch. The fridge stood next to the stove, both white and shiny. I had to stand on tiptoe to reach the freezer compartment of the fridge but I managed to wrangle the ice cream carton out from between the frozen chicken legs and ground beef.
I grabbed the maple syrup out of the cupboard near the stove. Grampy brought us maple syrup every year from the trees in Ontario and it was a treat we doled out sparingly so I knew not to use a lot of it.
Scooping some vanilla ice cream into two pink plastic bowls, I wondered if we had any walnuts. I put what was left of the brick of ice cream back in the freezer and opened Mom’s baking cupboard but all I could see was a handful of raisins in a mason jar. I poured a bit of the maple syrup over the ice cream and sprinkled the raisins over that.
When I took the bowls into the living room, Mom opened her eyes and said, “I wondered what you were getting up to out there.”
“Well, I was trying to make you some maple walnut ice cream but I know it’s not the real thing,” I said, digging into the gooey, golden sundae.
“No, this is even better,” Mom said, flashing that killer smile I was yet unaware I would inherit so exactly: “Nobody can buy a bowl of love like this at the grocery store.”
JAM (c)14Jun2012
For Sarah, her prompt was: Maple syrup, enjoy, Sarah, now I want some pancakes, dammit, lol 
Rainbow (Photo credit: Gail Johnson)
Rainbow Secrets
~
Double rainbow, double grace
Mystical gift humans interlace
No thought of difference or even same
Matters not, no need for name
United splendor of double bows
Together crying all ahs and ohs
If one heart can be moved ever thus
Sure we and they are all just us
Under the bow there is much to know
From past and tomorrow and long ago
The secret about rainbows is their heart
Not where they wend but where they start
Looking not to the end but seeing in
Under the arcs where rainbows really begin.
~
JAM (c)14Jun2012
Written for Cat whose writing prompt was “Rainbow” – thanks Cat! Hope you like
What I adore about the rain is the clarity of a single drop, a crystalline, impromptu looking-glass through which everything is softened. Harsh edges of all in view are obscured and it is easier to love the prickly. Songs about laughing in the rain and singing in the rain move me to do just that. Kissing in the rain is even better. There is something so romantic about writing in the rain as to be almost indescribable. On a clear, sunny or blowsy cold day I am inclined to feel the need to get out there, do as much as I can before the rain descends. But as a long time resident of the west coast which some refer to as the “wet coast,” I am ecstatic about having so many days to write guilt free, rain on the roof lulling my thoughts as I work and know that all is well in my world. The flowers and trees are getting their nourishment that I may enjoy them even through the window as I watch droplets collect and fall on the lush foliage of summer. Happen I think I live in Paradise but shhhhh, if I speak too loudly, everyone will know my happy secret of writing in time to a romantic rain that inspires more even on days when I worry my mind has entirely dried up. Rain is just the right writing weather. No rain complainer am I. Rain on, sweet skies. Reign on.
JAM (c)14Jun2012
Instant prose inspired by Simon who gave “rain” as the prompt. Enjoy my “rain” thoughts, Simon
