Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 5
October 27, 2023
Getting Through
For four of her five years, she andher Mom,Had happ’ly lived with us—a time ofcalm,And every day her mom, with hug andkiss,Would go to work and leave herlittle Miss.
So Tinesy Girl and me, we were a team,To have her here with me was such adream,And, daily, we would eat and readand play,Too soon her mom came home from herwork day.
Now Tinesy Girl’s most favourite toyof all,Was not a Pretty Pony or a doll,Instead a little music box that sang,With a little, purple phone (tospeak or clang).
The phone, some days before, haddisappeared,Both Tinesy Girl and me, we'd searched andpeered,Unable to find out just where itwent,Decided it would show—we'd not lament!
Now, Mama was a theatre carpenterEach day she took her to-ol box withher,But on this day, she got a bigsurprise,Among her big old tools, a phone—pint-sized.
She thought it had been wrongly sodispatched,And brought it home, where it was quicklysnatched,Then gladly TG played with it till bed,And when she went to sleep, t’was byher head!
Next day, when daughter got to work,she groaned,Again, amongst her tools, was TG’sphone,She smiled—got the message finally…TG was telling Mom, "Please messageme!"
Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"We write because we like to please!And we love her, you know that’s true,So this is what we writers do . . .We craft a poem based on a theme,With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,Each month we write and have such funWe can't wait for another one,With 'MESSAGE ME!' how did I do?Please go and see the others, too:
So Tinesy Girl and me, we were a team,To have her here with me was such adream,And, daily, we would eat and readand play,Too soon her mom came home from herwork day.
Now Tinesy Girl’s most favourite toyof all,Was not a Pretty Pony or a doll,Instead a little music box that sang,With a little, purple phone (tospeak or clang).
The phone, some days before, haddisappeared,Both Tinesy Girl and me, we'd searched andpeered,Unable to find out just where itwent,Decided it would show—we'd not lament!
Now, Mama was a theatre carpenterEach day she took her to-ol box withher,But on this day, she got a bigsurprise,Among her big old tools, a phone—pint-sized.
She thought it had been wrongly sodispatched,And brought it home, where it was quicklysnatched,Then gladly TG played with it till bed,And when she went to sleep, t’was byher head!
Next day, when daughter got to work,she groaned,Again, amongst her tools, was TG’sphone,She smiled—got the message finally…TG was telling Mom, "Please messageme!"
Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"We write because we like to please!And we love her, you know that’s true,So this is what we writers do . . .We craft a poem based on a theme,With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,Each month we write and have such funWe can't wait for another one,With 'MESSAGE ME!' how did I do?Please go and see the others, too:
Baking In A Tornado: Midnight Message
October 23, 2023
Talk
Of Talk Show hosts, there are a few,Some long past and some quite new,But if you had to pick just one…Tell me which was smart. And fun?
Allen, yes, he was the first,Gave us all our ‘Talk Show’ thirst!And Carson. Many call him king,Oh, the laughter he could bring!Then Letterman, that name I know,Sardonic. Witty on his show.And Stewart, oh, that man is good,And often tells it like he should.Skits for which O’Brien’s known,Made everybody laugh. Or groan.Colbert. That man is smarter, still,He’s known for insights ‘Up the Hill’.Then Oprah, her I loved a lot,Her opinions, many sought!With giveaways and games and such,DeGeneres, she did so much.And Kimmel, what about this guy?I love the twinkle in his eye.And Rivers, clever, clever girl,She gave the Talk Show world a whirl!Then Miller earned his place, I’ll grantWith his jokes, more jokes and rants.Excitement, positivity,Marked O’Donnel’s show…agree?Then Oliver, oh, that clever lad,That man knows pol’tics, good and bad.Then Myers, him I watch a lot,A Closer Look’s his famous spot.Hall, his show had class and slink,Cancelled much too soon, I think.Galifianakis, Parr,These are the names that did go far,And Ferguson and Cavett, too,Oh, Fallon, Shandling, I’ll add you.All these and many more, I thinkGave us fun or made us blink,Love ‘em. Hate ‘em. Each held swayIn their unique and chosen way!Where would we be throughout the years,Without our Talk Show hosts and peers,With thoughts to ponder, memes to quote…I’m not done yet—where’s that remote?
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week be sure to be right here.Cause MISCHIEF is our theme. Oh, dear...
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Talk Shows (October 23) Today!Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
Allen, yes, he was the first,Gave us all our ‘Talk Show’ thirst!And Carson. Many call him king,Oh, the laughter he could bring!Then Letterman, that name I know,Sardonic. Witty on his show.And Stewart, oh, that man is good,And often tells it like he should.Skits for which O’Brien’s known,Made everybody laugh. Or groan.Colbert. That man is smarter, still,He’s known for insights ‘Up the Hill’.Then Oprah, her I loved a lot,Her opinions, many sought!With giveaways and games and such,DeGeneres, she did so much.And Kimmel, what about this guy?I love the twinkle in his eye.And Rivers, clever, clever girl,She gave the Talk Show world a whirl!Then Miller earned his place, I’ll grantWith his jokes, more jokes and rants.Excitement, positivity,Marked O’Donnel’s show…agree?Then Oliver, oh, that clever lad,That man knows pol’tics, good and bad.Then Myers, him I watch a lot,A Closer Look’s his famous spot.Hall, his show had class and slink,Cancelled much too soon, I think.Galifianakis, Parr,These are the names that did go far,And Ferguson and Cavett, too,Oh, Fallon, Shandling, I’ll add you.All these and many more, I thinkGave us fun or made us blink,Love ‘em. Hate ‘em. Each held swayIn their unique and chosen way!Where would we be throughout the years,Without our Talk Show hosts and peers,With thoughts to ponder, memes to quote…I’m not done yet—where’s that remote?
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week be sure to be right here.Cause MISCHIEF is our theme. Oh, dear...
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Talk Shows (October 23) Today!Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
October 20, 2023
A Little Jack Snack
Okay, first off, the story of Little Jack Horner intrigues me.Is it satirical? Or merely the story of a greedy little boy sitting ina corner, keeping all the pie to himself.I think this needs to be explored. Right?So here we go…
We’ll begin with the actual poem, as I learned it in the great So LongAgo:Little Jack HornerSat in a corner,Eating his Christmas pie.He stuck in his thumbAnd pulled out a plum,And said, “What a good boy am I!”
Right away, this begs the question, Why is Jackie sitting in a cornerall by himself?With a pie.Had he been bad and sent to said corner?I want to mention, here, that when MY parents gave me a time out, piewasn’t included.
Had he been sent there to eat by himself because someone forgot to bathe that day? Seriously, it could happen. Iknow there have been occasions when I’ve sat beside someone who…never mind.Suffice it to say odours other than entrees/desserts were di stinc tlyindicated.
Or did Jackie Boy simply want to sit there quietly by himself? Perhapsmy loquacious Aunt Agnes was in the crowd and talk about yesterday’s sermon andtomorrow’s choir rehearsal just interfered with some serious ‘pie-eating’concentration. The old ‘shut up and let me shovel’!
And that brings us to the next talking point. I’m assuming everyone atthe party was gifted with a large pie of their own and that our boy hadn’tpinched what would amount to the entire company’s dessert. Please tell me it isn’t so, Jackie!
And that his being holed up in that corner had nothing to do withselfishness.Or theft.Oh, dear.Could it be the corner was shady and hidden and that our boy was there,not by design, but by necessity? To stay out of sight?
This brings up a whole new discussion.Is this a story about the nefarious Mr. Jack Horner of the Hole-in-the-WallHorners?The not-so-famous outlaws. (Okay, yes, I made them up…)Was the Jack in our story just a common thief?
There is also the theory that ‘Jack’ was a well-known public figure,but one with his own interests at heart. That the ‘pie’ he had purloined was,in fact, loaded with—not the fruit one would expect—but instead, a deed to a valuableproperty.
That the ‘sticking in of the thumb’ included fingers. And the pullingforth of the juicy (?) bit of parchment entitled the bearer to sole possession of…somethingvaluable enough it warranted sneakiness and hiding in shadowy corners.And the not sharing of the something valuable.
Truthfully, I prefer the idea that Little Jack Horner was simply at aChristmas party. Everyone had been given their own pie. And he chose to eat hisin the corner where grooming was unimportant. Along with acceptable gustatory mannerismsvis-à-vis pie-eating.
Thus, the thumb being poked into the pie and withdrawn captured by aplum would simply be that. A small boy, rather greedy and impatient—hence the usingof the fingers— who is proud of his whole ‘poking fingers into pies’ abilities.We need a re-write…
Young Jack Horner’s mannersIn his family of Tanners,Was not something of which they were proud.
And thus, they would press him,That, though they would dress himHe shouldn’t be part of the crowd.
So there in the corner,(cheered by his suborners!)Not bound by a cord and not strappled…
He stuck in his thumbAnd pulled out a plum,Then shouted out, “I ordered apple!”
Today’s post is a word challenge! Each month Karen, Mimi or I choose a number between 12 and 50 and the others craft a post using that number of words one or multiple times.This month’s number is: 45It was chosen by ME!
Now go and see what my friends have created!
Baking In ATornadoMessymimi’sMeanderings
We’ll begin with the actual poem, as I learned it in the great So LongAgo:Little Jack HornerSat in a corner,Eating his Christmas pie.He stuck in his thumbAnd pulled out a plum,And said, “What a good boy am I!”
Right away, this begs the question, Why is Jackie sitting in a cornerall by himself?With a pie.Had he been bad and sent to said corner?I want to mention, here, that when MY parents gave me a time out, piewasn’t included.
Had he been sent there to eat by himself because someone forgot to bathe that day? Seriously, it could happen. Iknow there have been occasions when I’ve sat beside someone who…never mind.Suffice it to say odours other than entrees/desserts were di stinc tlyindicated.
Or did Jackie Boy simply want to sit there quietly by himself? Perhapsmy loquacious Aunt Agnes was in the crowd and talk about yesterday’s sermon andtomorrow’s choir rehearsal just interfered with some serious ‘pie-eating’concentration. The old ‘shut up and let me shovel’!
And that brings us to the next talking point. I’m assuming everyone atthe party was gifted with a large pie of their own and that our boy hadn’tpinched what would amount to the entire company’s dessert. Please tell me it isn’t so, Jackie!
And that his being holed up in that corner had nothing to do withselfishness.Or theft.Oh, dear.Could it be the corner was shady and hidden and that our boy was there,not by design, but by necessity? To stay out of sight?
This brings up a whole new discussion.Is this a story about the nefarious Mr. Jack Horner of the Hole-in-the-WallHorners?The not-so-famous outlaws. (Okay, yes, I made them up…)Was the Jack in our story just a common thief?
There is also the theory that ‘Jack’ was a well-known public figure,but one with his own interests at heart. That the ‘pie’ he had purloined was,in fact, loaded with—not the fruit one would expect—but instead, a deed to a valuableproperty.
That the ‘sticking in of the thumb’ included fingers. And the pullingforth of the juicy (?) bit of parchment entitled the bearer to sole possession of…somethingvaluable enough it warranted sneakiness and hiding in shadowy corners.And the not sharing of the something valuable.
Truthfully, I prefer the idea that Little Jack Horner was simply at aChristmas party. Everyone had been given their own pie. And he chose to eat hisin the corner where grooming was unimportant. Along with acceptable gustatory mannerismsvis-à-vis pie-eating.
Thus, the thumb being poked into the pie and withdrawn captured by aplum would simply be that. A small boy, rather greedy and impatient—hence the usingof the fingers— who is proud of his whole ‘poking fingers into pies’ abilities.We need a re-write…
Young Jack Horner’s mannersIn his family of Tanners,Was not something of which they were proud.
And thus, they would press him,That, though they would dress himHe shouldn’t be part of the crowd.
So there in the corner,(cheered by his suborners!)Not bound by a cord and not strappled…
He stuck in his thumbAnd pulled out a plum,Then shouted out, “I ordered apple!”
Today’s post is a word challenge! Each month Karen, Mimi or I choose a number between 12 and 50 and the others craft a post using that number of words one or multiple times.This month’s number is: 45It was chosen by ME!Now go and see what my friends have created!
Baking In ATornadoMessymimi’sMeanderings
October 16, 2023
A Word...
Noah Webster was man most known for brains, notbrawn,And as a lexicographer, he absolutely shone!For he loved words and used them well, for work andthen for play,Why, he gave us the dictionary that we have today.
But when he died, his Miriam, she wanted to takechargeWhen funeral plans were in the works—decided togo large,Many people came. The service wasn’t sad or bleak,And, at the end, she asked if anyone would liketo speak.
A man came up, “I’dlike to say a word if that’s okay.”The widow smiled and then stoodback to let him have his say,The man leaned o’er the stand, and said “Plethora” clearand low,She smiled and said, “That means a lot! Your warmth and fondness shows!”
Another man came up to her, “I,too would like a word!”Again she smiled and then steppedback—again a voice was heard,“Infinity” was what he said.And Miriam almost glowed,Said, “You are very kind, sir!That means more than you can know!”
Then last, a woman joined her there, said, “Ihave aught to say.”Again, the widow stepped aside and let her haveher day,The woman moved up to the stand,“Aorta” was her word,And Miri said, “That warms my heart. I’m awful glad I heard!”
And many more came to the front to say a word ortwo,And Miriam loved everyone and smiled when eachwas through,And finally thanked them for their words, “Myheart is very cheered!I’m happy my sesquipedalian you all revered!”
So when you’re looking something up in Webster’sgreatest feat,Remember just who organized the words, both Sourand Sweet!And if you’re bored, just read it like a book. Bewild and daring,And if you don’t enjoy, don’t fret, 'cause soonyou’ll be past Caring.
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, we'll reach the highs and lowsDiscussing wise or fun talk shows!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Dictionary (October 16) Today!Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
But when he died, his Miriam, she wanted to takechargeWhen funeral plans were in the works—decided togo large,Many people came. The service wasn’t sad or bleak,And, at the end, she asked if anyone would liketo speak.
A man came up, “I’dlike to say a word if that’s okay.”The widow smiled and then stoodback to let him have his say,The man leaned o’er the stand, and said “Plethora” clearand low,She smiled and said, “That means a lot! Your warmth and fondness shows!”
Another man came up to her, “I,too would like a word!”Again she smiled and then steppedback—again a voice was heard,“Infinity” was what he said.And Miriam almost glowed,Said, “You are very kind, sir!That means more than you can know!”
Then last, a woman joined her there, said, “Ihave aught to say.”Again, the widow stepped aside and let her haveher day,The woman moved up to the stand,“Aorta” was her word,And Miri said, “That warms my heart. I’m awful glad I heard!”
And many more came to the front to say a word ortwo,And Miriam loved everyone and smiled when eachwas through,And finally thanked them for their words, “Myheart is very cheered!I’m happy my sesquipedalian you all revered!”
So when you’re looking something up in Webster’sgreatest feat,Remember just who organized the words, both Sourand Sweet!And if you’re bored, just read it like a book. Bewild and daring,And if you don’t enjoy, don’t fret, 'cause soonyou’ll be past Caring.
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, we'll reach the highs and lowsDiscussing wise or fun talk shows!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Dictionary (October 16) Today!Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
October 13, 2023
Almost True
...that one time when Sally didn't make things worse...
“Look! ‘The ParagonParanormal Society has thoroughly investigated this site and guarantees itsauthenticity’!”“Huh. Who arethey when they’re at home?” I muttered under my breath.Peter and Dadlaughed.Mort was nowhopping from foot to foot, obviously excited.Or he had to goto the bathroom.I gazed up atthe creepy-looking three-storey house and shivered. If they had a bathroom…The five of usstarted up the great front stairs to the doorway.They creaked‘authentically’.So far so good.“Oh, look atthat! A spider! Whoda thought?” Sally poked at alarge, furry brown member of the species in itsrather spectacular web.It curled itslegs up, then scurried away from her.“Oh. It’s real.My bad.”Just then, agust of wind blew over the porch, tossing Sally’s and my hair and almostclaiming Dad’s ball cap.He opened thedoor—another realistic creak—and we went inside.“Welcome!” Asolemn voice called out. “Please join the group. We’ll be getting startedsoon!”The five of ushovered near the door, allowing our eyes to adjust to the gloom. Finally, I wasable to make out a large, square room, with a stairway directly in front of me,great shelves filled with…gee-gaws…on all the walls, and a rathermundane-looking reception counter to the right. The voice seemed to have comefrom there.A group of 8 or10 people were gathered/huddled beside the stairway. Some of them were, likeMort, excited.The rest seemedmore like me.We gatheredwith them.A moment or twolater, a tall figure emerged from behind the counter and approached us—finallycoalescing into a young man.Wearing a heavycowl.Okay. Creepy.“Welcome toDell House,” the young man said. “I’m Night and I’ll be your guide thisafternoon.”His voice wasdeep and sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.I shivered. Ofcourse his name was ‘Night’.“First, awarning. Dell House spirits are capricious and unpredictable. They can appearat any time and have been known to ‘attack’ in numerous ways. Blasts of wind.Falling items and pictures. So please be alert. Best to stay away from walls atall times. And hang onto each other.”A timid hand slowlyrose on the far side of the group. “Ex-cuse me?” a faint voice said.Night turnedtoward them. “Yes?”“Is it quitesafe?”“Well…no onehas died here. Well…apart from the spirits.” Night’s laugh was, like him,weird. “Stay together and let’s go.”“Do you have ahistory of this place?” Dad asked, falling into step beside our guide.A long-fingeredhand dipped into some hidden pocket in Night’s robes and emerged with a handfulof pamphlets. “Our history is written here.” He handed one to Dad.“Thanks.” Dadfell back with the rest of us, squinting as he tried to read in the ratherinadequate light.Suddenly, ablast of wind, similar to the one we had felt outside, tore the paper from hishands.“Hey!” Dad madea spectacular, but futile effort to catch it. Then he glared as the paper rosenearly to the ceiling two floors above us.Night silentlyhanded Dad a second pamphlet. “That happens a lot,” the young man said.Dad looked atme. “I’m beginning to believe the reports,” he whispered.I gigglednervously.Night took usup the main staircase.By this point,everyone in the group was clinging desperately to someone else.My bunch wasn’tany different. I had linked arms with both Dad and Peter and I saw Mort grabSally’s hand.One man aheadof me was gripping the heavily-carved bannister. Suddenly, he jerked his handaway. “It’s hot!” he said.“Oh, yeah.That’ll happen, too,” Night said. “Careful.”We had justreached the top of the stairs when a stream of water came out of nowhere andstruck Mort in the chest.“Hey!” heshouted, ducking to one side and brushing hastily at his shirt, now drippingwet.Night pausedand looked at him. “Capricious and unpredictable.”“Maybe youshould give us an idea of what more we can expect,” Dad said.What can I say.He’s an ex-marine, but the urge to plan and execute remains strong.Night looked athim and shrugged. “We don’t know, sir. It’s never the same twice.”Dad looked atme and Peter. I tightened my hold on both of them.We were guidedalong a wide hallway, hung with a dozen or more massive portraits.“The familythrough the generations,” Night said.Man, this guywasn’t about to waste breath explaining anything!As we werepassing one picture of a young girl and her beribboned pet goat, the picturesuddenly just…dropped, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.Someoneshrieked and everyone huddled closer together in the center of the hallway.Okay, I knewwhy Night had advised us to stay away from the walls.We continueddown the hall.Doors slammedopen, then shut.Light fixtures swayedalarmingly.Soft, strange music played. It would grow for a moment, then die.And I’m prettysure I saw a translucent figure sail across the hall and into the wall justahead of us.“Did you seethat?” I managed to gasp.Dad and Peter’seyes were on the same spot.“I did,” theysaid together. They looked at each other.“Keep up,” Nightsaid.We hurried tocatch the others.Throughout allthis, Mort and Sally were uncharacteristically silent. I kept glancing back tomake sure they were still with us.Sally seemedcalm, but Mort’s eyes were bigger than dinner plates as he swiveled to watcheverything.Night led usinto bedrooms, where rugs rolled themselves up and dresser drawers made astaccato sound as they moved in and out. Blinds snapped up and curtains slidback and forth across the rods.Bedclothes weretossed about.A pillow sailedpast. Dad ducked, but I wasn’t as fortunate.The resultingcloud of dust made me sneeze repeatedly.It was hard toknow how to react or where to look first.As we made ourway back into the hallway from one of the bedrooms, Peter leaned close andwhispered in my ear, “Even if this is all fake, it’s pretty spectacular!”Just as thewords left his lips, another wind blast tore through—this time seeming totarget him. It nearly pulled him free from my grip.Our holdtightened.The tourcontinued...We couldn’thave been in that house for more than half an hour, but it seemed days. Everyfloor and room sported some new and startling event.My fingers werejust beginning to grow slightly numb from Peter and Dad’s crushing grip when Nightfinally steered us back to the main staircase.We descendedit, relief writ large on every face in the group as we spied our escape.Night stoppedat the bottom of the stairs, halting the group. Then he looked up at us. “We,the spirits of Dell House hope you enjoyed your visit. Do tell your friends andneighbours. And come back yourselves. If you dare.”With thosewords, he suddenly…disappeared.I am not makingthis up. He disappeared. His cloak was suddenly—empty. It dropped to the floorin a heap of cloth.We stared,aghast.One womanfainted.But Sally ismade of sterner stuff.“Cool!” shesaid. “Let’s go again!”
Use Your Words is a writing challenge!Each month, I exchange words with my friend and intrepid leader, Karen of Baking in a Tornado Neither of us knows what the other will do with her words.This month, Karen gave me: ghost ~ grow ~ brown ~ spider ~ soft Thank you, my friend!Now go see what Karen did with my words!BakingIn ATornado
“Look! ‘The ParagonParanormal Society has thoroughly investigated this site and guarantees itsauthenticity’!”“Huh. Who arethey when they’re at home?” I muttered under my breath.Peter and Dadlaughed.Mort was nowhopping from foot to foot, obviously excited.Or he had to goto the bathroom.I gazed up atthe creepy-looking three-storey house and shivered. If they had a bathroom…The five of usstarted up the great front stairs to the doorway.They creaked‘authentically’.So far so good.“Oh, look atthat! A spider! Whoda thought?” Sally poked at alarge, furry brown member of the species in itsrather spectacular web.It curled itslegs up, then scurried away from her.“Oh. It’s real.My bad.”Just then, agust of wind blew over the porch, tossing Sally’s and my hair and almostclaiming Dad’s ball cap.He opened thedoor—another realistic creak—and we went inside.“Welcome!” Asolemn voice called out. “Please join the group. We’ll be getting startedsoon!”The five of ushovered near the door, allowing our eyes to adjust to the gloom. Finally, I wasable to make out a large, square room, with a stairway directly in front of me,great shelves filled with…gee-gaws…on all the walls, and a rathermundane-looking reception counter to the right. The voice seemed to have comefrom there.A group of 8 or10 people were gathered/huddled beside the stairway. Some of them were, likeMort, excited.The rest seemedmore like me.We gatheredwith them.A moment or twolater, a tall figure emerged from behind the counter and approached us—finallycoalescing into a young man.Wearing a heavycowl.Okay. Creepy.“Welcome toDell House,” the young man said. “I’m Night and I’ll be your guide thisafternoon.”His voice wasdeep and sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well.I shivered. Ofcourse his name was ‘Night’.“First, awarning. Dell House spirits are capricious and unpredictable. They can appearat any time and have been known to ‘attack’ in numerous ways. Blasts of wind.Falling items and pictures. So please be alert. Best to stay away from walls atall times. And hang onto each other.”A timid hand slowlyrose on the far side of the group. “Ex-cuse me?” a faint voice said.Night turnedtoward them. “Yes?”“Is it quitesafe?”“Well…no onehas died here. Well…apart from the spirits.” Night’s laugh was, like him,weird. “Stay together and let’s go.”“Do you have ahistory of this place?” Dad asked, falling into step beside our guide.A long-fingeredhand dipped into some hidden pocket in Night’s robes and emerged with a handfulof pamphlets. “Our history is written here.” He handed one to Dad.“Thanks.” Dadfell back with the rest of us, squinting as he tried to read in the ratherinadequate light.Suddenly, ablast of wind, similar to the one we had felt outside, tore the paper from hishands.“Hey!” Dad madea spectacular, but futile effort to catch it. Then he glared as the paper rosenearly to the ceiling two floors above us.Night silentlyhanded Dad a second pamphlet. “That happens a lot,” the young man said.Dad looked atme. “I’m beginning to believe the reports,” he whispered.I gigglednervously.Night took usup the main staircase.By this point,everyone in the group was clinging desperately to someone else.My bunch wasn’tany different. I had linked arms with both Dad and Peter and I saw Mort grabSally’s hand.One man aheadof me was gripping the heavily-carved bannister. Suddenly, he jerked his handaway. “It’s hot!” he said.“Oh, yeah.That’ll happen, too,” Night said. “Careful.”We had justreached the top of the stairs when a stream of water came out of nowhere andstruck Mort in the chest.“Hey!” heshouted, ducking to one side and brushing hastily at his shirt, now drippingwet.Night pausedand looked at him. “Capricious and unpredictable.”“Maybe youshould give us an idea of what more we can expect,” Dad said.What can I say.He’s an ex-marine, but the urge to plan and execute remains strong.Night looked athim and shrugged. “We don’t know, sir. It’s never the same twice.”Dad looked atme and Peter. I tightened my hold on both of them.We were guidedalong a wide hallway, hung with a dozen or more massive portraits.“The familythrough the generations,” Night said.Man, this guywasn’t about to waste breath explaining anything!As we werepassing one picture of a young girl and her beribboned pet goat, the picturesuddenly just…dropped, hitting the floor with a heavy thud.Someoneshrieked and everyone huddled closer together in the center of the hallway.Okay, I knewwhy Night had advised us to stay away from the walls.We continueddown the hall.Doors slammedopen, then shut.Light fixtures swayedalarmingly.Soft, strange music played. It would grow for a moment, then die.And I’m prettysure I saw a translucent figure sail across the hall and into the wall justahead of us.“Did you seethat?” I managed to gasp.Dad and Peter’seyes were on the same spot.“I did,” theysaid together. They looked at each other.“Keep up,” Nightsaid.We hurried tocatch the others.Throughout allthis, Mort and Sally were uncharacteristically silent. I kept glancing back tomake sure they were still with us.Sally seemedcalm, but Mort’s eyes were bigger than dinner plates as he swiveled to watcheverything.Night led usinto bedrooms, where rugs rolled themselves up and dresser drawers made astaccato sound as they moved in and out. Blinds snapped up and curtains slidback and forth across the rods.Bedclothes weretossed about.A pillow sailedpast. Dad ducked, but I wasn’t as fortunate.The resultingcloud of dust made me sneeze repeatedly.It was hard toknow how to react or where to look first.As we made ourway back into the hallway from one of the bedrooms, Peter leaned close andwhispered in my ear, “Even if this is all fake, it’s pretty spectacular!”Just as thewords left his lips, another wind blast tore through—this time seeming totarget him. It nearly pulled him free from my grip.Our holdtightened.The tourcontinued...We couldn’thave been in that house for more than half an hour, but it seemed days. Everyfloor and room sported some new and startling event.My fingers werejust beginning to grow slightly numb from Peter and Dad’s crushing grip when Nightfinally steered us back to the main staircase.We descendedit, relief writ large on every face in the group as we spied our escape.Night stoppedat the bottom of the stairs, halting the group. Then he looked up at us. “We,the spirits of Dell House hope you enjoyed your visit. Do tell your friends andneighbours. And come back yourselves. If you dare.”With thosewords, he suddenly…disappeared.I am not makingthis up. He disappeared. His cloak was suddenly—empty. It dropped to the floorin a heap of cloth.We stared,aghast.One womanfainted.But Sally ismade of sterner stuff.“Cool!” shesaid. “Let’s go again!”
Use Your Words is a writing challenge!Each month, I exchange words with my friend and intrepid leader, Karen of Baking in a Tornado Neither of us knows what the other will do with her words.This month, Karen gave me: ghost ~ grow ~ brown ~ spider ~ soft Thank you, my friend!Now go see what Karen did with my words!BakingIn ATornado
October 9, 2023
Where Laughter Comes From...
From there, I moved to Daddy’s jokes,When entertaining mealtime folks,Or when, the wide prairies, we rode,And he was in his joking mode.
And then my siblings took it on,To laughter, all we six were drawn,And we’d quote ‘Mad’ and ‘Cowpokes’ jests,And try to outdo all the rest.
And when I married, Husby Dear,Worked hard to fill my days with cheer,And he did well, my better half,His goal was always “Make her laugh”.
Then our kids, too, got in the game,That ‘laughter’ goal remained the same,And they’d tell tales, quote movies, songs,To keep the merriment going strong.
My grandkids now are starting out,I guess there couldn’t be much doubt,That they’d pick up the ‘laughter’ gene,And see which one would reign supreme.
Now I have given lots of thoughtTo what is funny. What is not,Don't need to plot with charts and graphs . . .'Cause it's my FAMILY makes me laugh.
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week might be more complex...Cause DICTIONARY's in the text!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Family (October 9) Today!Dictionary (October 16)Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
October 2, 2023
A Birthday Suit
This was Daddy's favourite story.And because it's MY birthday...
For years, she worked untiringly
In times of calm, or urgency,In office work, traditional,Her business place so integral.
Her husband was so proud of her,His sweet, but strong entrepreneur,So, for her birthday, he’d rewardThe lovely woman he adored.
And straightway took her to the storeTo blow all he did budget for,For something pretty she could wear,Unmatched by all who might compare.
And so received from her dear spouseA lovely suit, with silky blouse.A gorgeous jacket: shade of blue,A pleated skirt of matching hue.
Then marched herself to work that day,Receiving greetings on the way,Confident in how she looked,As pretty as a picture . . . book.
Her boss was in when she got there,She checked her image with due care,Then to his office, she did trot,To show the suit her husband bought.
But just as she had stepped inside,A customer with needs, appliedFor entrance to their workplace there,The boss sprang up from his wing chair.
“So sorry that I made you wait,(Today my girl’s a fashion plate),But she was looking oh-so-cute,When showing me her birthday suit!”
allfinds.org
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, Family's the theme,Come join us, we'll be a team!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Birthdays (October 2) Today!Family (October 9)Dictionary (October 16)Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
For years, she worked untiringly
In times of calm, or urgency,In office work, traditional,Her business place so integral.
Her husband was so proud of her,His sweet, but strong entrepreneur,So, for her birthday, he’d rewardThe lovely woman he adored.
And straightway took her to the storeTo blow all he did budget for,For something pretty she could wear,Unmatched by all who might compare.
And so received from her dear spouseA lovely suit, with silky blouse.A gorgeous jacket: shade of blue,A pleated skirt of matching hue.
Then marched herself to work that day,Receiving greetings on the way,Confident in how she looked,As pretty as a picture . . . book.
Her boss was in when she got there,She checked her image with due care,Then to his office, she did trot,To show the suit her husband bought.
But just as she had stepped inside,A customer with needs, appliedFor entrance to their workplace there,The boss sprang up from his wing chair.
“So sorry that I made you wait,(Today my girl’s a fashion plate),But she was looking oh-so-cute,When showing me her birthday suit!”
allfinds.org
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, Family's the theme,Come join us, we'll be a team!
Thinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Birthdays (October 2) Today!Family (October 9)Dictionary (October 16)Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
September 29, 2023
The Texting Test
I’ve hada few now in my life,Some arehappy. Some cause strife,Most aremerely info passed,Withsomething someone wants broadcast,A quick, efficientway to snoop,By askingquestions in your group,I’m sureyou’ve guessed by now, my friendsI’mtalking ‘bout the texts we send…Myson-in-law first showed me how,Soon chattingwas the cat’s meow,So easyjust to type, then send,No timeon “How are you’s” to spend,Just tothe meat and then it’s done,Ofconversation, there is none,Don’t getme wrong, I like to talk,While wesit, or take a walk,Butsometimes all you need’s a phrase,To informor to liaise…But I’llstop there, you’ve had enough,I’ll getto more important stuff,Thequestion asked, I’ll answer nextWhat hasbeen my favourite text?There’vebeen so many, long and short,Some makemy cry, some make me snort,Yes, Iwould have to say that’s hard,Perhaps I’llleave it to The Bard,For ‘brief’and ‘clever’ are a hit,And: ‘Brevityis the soul of wit!’
Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"We write because we like to please!And we love her, you know that’s true,So this is what we writers do . . .We craft a poem based on a theme,With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,Each month we write and have such funWe can't wait for another one,With TEXTS this month, how did I do?Please go and see the others, too:Baking In A TornadoMessymimi’sMeanderings
Karen asks, "Write for me, please?"We write because we like to please!And we love her, you know that’s true,So this is what we writers do . . .We craft a poem based on a theme,With pencils, sharp, and eyes agleam,Each month we write and have such funWe can't wait for another one,With TEXTS this month, how did I do?Please go and see the others, too:Baking In A TornadoMessymimi’sMeanderings
September 26, 2023
Banff 2023
Ugh. Not these pants!For over 30 years, the last week ofAugust is our family’s holiday time in Banff.We move into our timeshare unit withthe smooth familiarity of many, many years.Everything is familiar.Then the memories close comfortablyin around us.Our kids learning to swim in thatpool.Hiking the trails until theyseemed like old friends.Picnicking.Shopping and talking and playinggames.Eating ice cream and BeaverTails.Playing some more games.Watching movies together.Biking.In a word: Paradise.30+ years makes for a lot ofmemories!This year, our eldest son and hisfamily were there with Grampa and Gramma.They had a unit of their ownright next door. So, we did what any family would do—moved their table into ourapartment and with ours, used our front room
as the community dining hall.Allowing his family ofeight-plus-one to spread out in their sleeping arrangements.It was glorious! All meals wereeaten together, and Gramma was in heaven.But, as with any situation wherea lot of people are co-habiting, there was the occasional…bump.Six-year-old Granddaughter wasfeeling the stress of a lot of people in the near vicinity and woke up onemorning (as my mother used to say) on the wrong side of the bed.Her mother was trying to help herdress for the day and the topic of choice was the reason why she couldn’t wearthe same pants she had been wearing for the previous two days.Mom: “Why don’t you wear thesepants instead?”6YO: “I don't like those pants!”Mom: “Then why did you pack them?”6YO (Loudly): “I didn't!! Dad packed them because he called me and I wouldn'tcome!!!”Sometimes the truth just sort of…spillsout.Hilariously.
Some more pictures:
Forest Wood Elf
The Crew
Our Newlyweds
More elves...
We do love our biking!
The gardensSeptember 25, 2023
Dreamt Up
Acertain woman had a dream,(It happensquite a lot, it seems,)Butthis one happened just before,Her ann’versarycame in the door,Now,in this dream her Husby gave,Abox to her. And she did raveEnthusiasticallyfor a time,Shethought that it was so sublime,She peeledthe wrapping all aside…Andfound another box inside.Thisone, too, she opened fast…Then found another, not the last.Thiswent on for quite a while,Asbox-by-box, she made a pile.Thenfinally, in the last, she found,Adiamond ring, with gold all crowned.Sheput it on, admired it,Thenpraised her husband for his wit…Whenshe awoke, she hurried toTellher Husby all she knewAbouther dream, with hints galore,ThenHusby headed for the store!Thenext day was the special one,Andhe said, “For my Honey-Bun.”Thenhanded her a gift-wrapped box,Toobig for underwear or socks,Shegave him back a great big grin,Thentook the box and started inUnwrappingrather frenziedly,Won’dringjust what it could be!HadHusby really paid some mind,Toall that she, his wife, outlined?Whenshe got the wrapping off,Anotherbox remained to doff,Andunder that one, several more,Oh,what could possibly be in store?Hereagerness reached fever pitch,Andher eye began to twitch,Asbox-by-box, she worked down to,Thefinal box. Oh, what a coup!She knew the last one she had reached,Thefinal wrap at long last breached...Therewas no ring. Instead, it seemsThebook, ‘How to Interpret Dreams’.
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,
With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, just because it's mine,We'll talk of Birthdays for a timeThinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!
Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Dreams (September 25) Today!Birthdays (October 2)Family (October 9)Dictionary (October 16)Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
Photo Credit: Karen of bakinginatornado.comCause Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besought
To try to make the week begin
With gentle thoughts,
Perhaps a grin?
So Karen , Charlotte, Mimi, me
Have crafted poems for you to see.
And now you’ve read what we have wrought…
Did we help?
Or did we not?
Next week, just because it's mine,We'll talk of Birthdays for a timeThinking of joining us for Poetry Monday?We'd love to welcome you!Topics for the next few weeks (with a huge thank-you to Mimi, who comes up with so many of them!)Dreams (September 25) Today!Birthdays (October 2)Family (October 9)Dictionary (October 16)Talk Shows (October 23)Mischief (October 30)Watermelon (November 6)Grandma's Kitchen (November 13)The Bus (November 20)A Pet's Life (November 27)
On the Border
Stories from the Stringam Family ranches from the 1800's through to today.
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- Diane Stringam Tolley's profile
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