gillybirds

What came first- the chickens or the blog?

See for Yourself

A man and a woman walk through the park together, holding hands. They pass an old woman sitting on a bench. The old woman is knitting a small, red sweater. The man begins to cry. Write this scene.

Today’s twist: write the scene from three different points of view: from the perspective of the man, then the woman, and finally the old woman.

man’s thoughts
woman’s thoughts
older woman’s thoughts

It’s good to come here to have space to think. To talk things over. Peaceful. Those trees are really turning now. Such beautiful colours, reds, yellows, deep orange….I wonder if…..She’s very quiet. Should I just tell her what I think?

I’m glad we were able to escape that over heated hospital room…that September breeze feels so cool on my face, and the crisp, dry leaves under my feet….I’m so confused. Talk about information overload! So much to think about. What am I going to do? We both need to make this decision. It’s not just about me anymore. I want to know what he’s thinking…

I thought with only three months to Christmas I’d better start knitting for Tom. He’ll be six now. So far away. It will be spring time there. Hard to believe when the nights are getting so short now and those leaves are falling making such a mess everywhere. I know it’s ridiculous knitting a Christmas jumper when the family celebrate Christmas on the beach, but I always made one for his dad, and while there is strength in my hands I will do the same for him, the wee love. I wonder how big he’s grown?Imagine having a grandson you’ve never seen. All these years. Not a day passes when I don’t think of him. I want to know does he ever think of me.

The doctor is offering the opportunity of a lifetime. I know it’s experimental but if it were me I would jump at the chance! I know we haven’t been together very long but I want to tell her how I feel. But I’m afraid my honesty would spoil what we’ve shared these last few months. Good times! Look at her….Such a beautiful face. And those eyes. Those beautiful eyes…Hasn’t she suffered enough?

I’m afraid. Afraid what surgery would mean. Afraid and yet astounded at the thought that life could change so dramatically . I’ve often lain in the darkness wondering just what it would be like. How will I adapt? And if the surgery is a failure, how will I get over that too? How will he cope? Is it too much too soon?I wish I could read his face

I hope Tom likes this red yarn. It was a favourite colour of his dad’s – like his favourite football team. Perhaps I should write, or phone, make the first move. But I’m afraid to fly. At my age! On my own. Afraid of the journey. Afraid of a closed door. Afraid of being rejected. By my own son! Again. But to see the look on wee Tom’s face if he opened the door and I handed him the jumper in person!

I just want her to see me

I just want to see him

I just want to see

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Today’s blog posting is a short piece of fictional writing based on the theme suggested in the Daily Post Writing 101 course.

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Fly me to the Moon

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You may be surprised to learn that hens can fly. I know you know they are birds, but perhaps you thought they were more like penguins and ostriches, having wings purely for decoration. I have however seen it with my own eyes. Until yesterday, only a short flap from the top of the coop ladder to the ground, but when I let them out for a run around yesterday afternoon, not one but two girls took flight and flew at least ten feet across the garden following me. It was quite a moment. hen flight is not a graceful swoop but a great crashing of wings with a little startled face followed by a heavy landing.
Some hen keepers trim the hen’s wings by clipping the first ten or so feathers off. Only one wing so they can flap but I guess rather frustratingly for them, end up turning in circles. Apparently wing clipping doesn’t hurt, it’s a bit like getting your hair cut (that usually only hurts when you come to pay the bill)
A second school of thought is to let the hens keep the ability to fly should they need to escape from predators. In France noticed Mme Caroline had pea netting over the hen netting, I assume to stop her flock from flying away. This would be my thinking too, just in case the dog does escape to the garden while they are out and about; or a cat, or even the urban fox we see occasionally.
To have the power of flight must be a wonderful thing. I’m not good with heights but the pleasure and thrill people get from parachuting, bungy jumping, zip wiring, wing walking, parascending is obvious. My dear friend Miss CC has done at least two of these things for charity as well as ticking them off her “bucket list” of life experiences. (My own bucket list is a bit more gravity-centred.)
We have all been saddened by the passing of Neil Armstrong this weekend. The first moon landing is one of my earliest memories. A moon landing is certainly not on my bucket list. But it is good to have challenges, objectives, goals, aspirations, both short and long term, so you aren’t spinning round in aimless circles like a flightless hen. I wonder if Neil ever asked himself- If you walk on the moon as a young man, how can anything you do for the remainder of your life on earth match that? As we start a new school year, full of fresh blank exercise books, bright starchy shirts and sharp new pencils, I will leave you to ponder Neil’s own words :

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