friday evening post

sometimes writing is like stage fright. the light is too bright and everything seems too big to swallow and words just won't come. but i figure if i stop thinking about it, and just do it, that's the thing that will snap the cord of indecision. i haven't written in so long on digital pages, and sometimes i wonder why do that when i have REAL pages? i don't know exactly. because of the other posts, that live here, i guess. but in any case, for the sake of fricassee and frying a hen, here is a post, little blog, you poor, forsaken old thing.

Wednesday, August 28, 2013

Daddy's been trying to kill that blessed rat for days now. The loathsome thing will take all the food from his special-sized Rat Trap, and lumber off with it. I've heard he's huge. Mama and Angelot were talking and he ran right through them.  Angelot said it was the biggest rat she'd ever seen, and that's saying a lot, cause she's had a farm. The old thing is cunning too, apparently. But Daddy will get him. Yes, Sirree.  Last night I came home and saw also, beside the Giant Trap, a bowl of succulent blue poison. Surely Daddy will succeed this time. That Rat can run and hide, but it can't resist deliciousness. 

For some reason, spring is the only time I think of baby birds hatching and growing into fledglings. But there have been lots of baby birds. There are three that must have hatched a couple of weeks ago. Chubby, awkward little things that can only squeak and hang onto the telephone wire, they just sit there, preening, watching other graceful birds skim the air lightly and skillfully. One day, they will sing beautiful songs and gracefully duck and dash into the air with the best of them. Until then, I get to watch them from our porch every morning.