Snow Blanket

Outside the sky is dark. The clouds hang low and heavy. Humidity is in the air. The road is lined with bare trees and pot holes. Houses are empty – for sale, or foreclosed. Swing sets sit abandoned in the back yards. Cars are rusty and old. They squeal each time they are started. The dumpster piles over.

A weatherman calls for snow. The stores run dry of milk and bread is sold out. Main St. is busy with folks rushing home.

The snow falls. The roads become slippery and driving is not advisable. It piles upon the cars in the lot. Inches on inches build on the trees, sidewalks, and rooftops. The world is coated.

I sit inside the warmth. I fester with cabin fever. News reporters are advising us not to go outside. Someone needs to shovel the walkway and I'd like to clean off my car. We are snowbound.

A window shows me the outside. It is peaceful and treacherous. The snow has covered the imperfections. Yesterday's mistakes are not gone, but forgotten for now. No one has walked through the white depths yet. The snow tops are smooth and glistening. A blanket of tranquility is laid upon the land.

Tomorrow we will recover. We will unbury the over-snowed and try our luck on the icy roads. We will shovel and sweat. We will crash and conquer. We will relive the snow storm moments, and we will rejoice with the sun. The snow will melt and until the world looks green again, we can keep this blanket to keep us warm and serene.

-Picture by Claire Houle, edited by me

Board?

 

When we are in the midst of a conversation, catching up for old time's sake, and you say "I'm bored" what is that? Is my conversation not stimulating enough for you? Are you incapable of entertaining yourself, finding something to stay occupied, or enjoy the simple things? I just don't get it. I don't know how to respond. The conversation ends.

Are you looking to me for entertainment? I am sure I can give you my rants and ramblings; however, I am also pretty sure that they'd be over your head. We can make plans to go for a drive, a walk, a drink perhaps. Yet, I am not sure that would be sufficient. For if you only rely on others to amuse you, then where are your interests, thought processes?

I cannot help but make the homophonic relation. Bored and board – is there a difference?

The trees get cut down. They are trimmed and loaded in the back of a truck. At the saw mill, the tree is sliced and diced. Pieces are tossed aside, and others are polished. The parts are sorted. Most of the trunk is transformed into lumber. Some serve as posts, others as custom bits. The rest is mass produced into the same cut. They are broken down perhaps of different lengths and widths, yet broken down the same. These pieces are lumbered into boards.

The board is smooth and simple. Its grains run deep. A black rot hole spots some pieces and the short ends are splintered. It doesn't do anything, just sits there waiting. One day someone will come in and purchase this board. They will take it home, cut it, nail it, and paint it. It will become something else.

It takes that outside influence to make the board into something, to change it. Do we all need that persuasion from another source to resolve our boredom?

As a child I specifically remember being bored. I would whine to my mother, father, and sister, anyone who would listen that I was bored. Often times they'd redirect my activity. I could vacuum, do the dishes, laundry, pick up a book, play a game, etc. Generally I chose the latter. Hours later, they'd have to tear me away from a story I got lost in, or a game I was determined to win. Quickly I learned the value of friends and reading.

Ever find yourself bored? What do you do?

Rainesday

The farmer peered through his blinds. His crops were sprouting just as expected. He could not wait to harvest his grains. Oh how his family famished for the food! It's been almost a month since they last ate. The sun had been too harsh recently and the crops were burning up before he could collect them.

Though this may sound awful, to the folks in Geeville it was utter delight. For the story says that every 17 sun months the rays are too strong and the G's disintegrate from the grains. The next day the farmers are to plant a new set of crops. They will grow twice as fertile.

On the third day, in hopes of blessing their newest seeds, the folks of Geeville celebrate with the stalks of their burnt crops. The children collect the stalks and break them in to small pieces. The homemakers puree them and add a secret blessed solution. The families prepare for Rainesday.

After their nap, the folks of Geeville celebrate the germination of their grains with the mixture of their g-less grain stalks and secret solution. They fill their glasses and dance around. Mirrors are placed about to reflect the rays and the community of Geeville celebrates until the mixture is gone.

As with every party, things have a way of getting out of control. In the midst of their cheers and tangos, some of the g-less grain stalks and secret solution spills. They don't fret about the dribble. (Except that the bigger the spill, the sooner the mixture is gone and the party comes to an end.) But, there is no clean-up. The clouds below them soak up the overflow.

In the days following their gala, the grains begin to sprout and their tummy's grumble with hunger. The clouds below them become more solid and thin. Down below, we feel this cool mixture of their g-less grain stalks and secret solution spill over. We welcome this gift to in turn help our crops and support our lives. Celebrate the rain.