BIRDS ON A WIRE

 

It’s another Wednesday and another photo prompt for Friday Fictioneers to tell their stories of approximately 100 words.  We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple.  Here’s my story of 100 words this week – inspired by this photo, the heat and Leonard Cohen.

grey-day-with-pigeons-roger-bultot
HOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

There was tension in the air.  You can almost feel it crackling like tinder under a match. Her heart raced and thudded.  It felt like a stallion was  galloping through her chest.  Any minute now.  It was coming.  She was sure.

The sky was grey and ominous. Enormous clouds hung over the rooftops.  The telephone wires drooped heavy with crows, gathered and waiting as if for a funeral.

Where could she hide?  Just then a bolt flashed across the sky.  She clapped her hands over her ears as thunder rumbled and shook the walls.  The rain came.  She was alright.

WAITING FOR THE STORM

IMG_1158Hot August day. I am waiting for the storm to erupt.  I am not feeling kosher, not copacetic at all.  In other words everything is not ducky.  I am seeing life through jaundiced eyes.  Do not worry!  I am not blaming you or anyone else.  Do not take it personally. It is just me, feeling the swirling energy around me.

There’s no need for sympathy nor pity.  I am doing quite well.  Perhaps I should be grateful for my kaleidoscope of moods and feelings.  I understand from whence they come.  Knowing myself enables me to understand others’ behaviour and feelings better.  It makes life easier and we all need that.

I do not try to fix myself anymore.  Believe me, I have tried so many times and in so many ways – self-help books, therapy, medication.  At long last I have come to accept myself, giving myself permission to be all that is human.  I no longer think of myself as being flawed.  Some days will be better than others.  Shit happens sometimes.  That is life, as they say.

IMG_6869No more There is less running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to overthrow my discomfort.  Now, I am okay just to sit with my own storm, waiting for God’s.  The sky is grey, the air is still.  The birds are chirping.  I’m waiting for their singing to stop.  That is when the rain will fall.  I’m waiting to hear the pitter patter above my head.

BREWING, WAGING, EXPLODING

I hate to contradict the FlyLady’s motto, “You are not behind”, but I am a day behind in writing my posts.  To make up, I’m going to start from where I am.

IMG_0866I did a bit of kicking ass yesterday even though the day was grey.  The sky was cloudless, covered by smoke from forest fires up north.  The air was filled with its acrid smell.  Our world was covered with an eery gloom.  It felt just like the moment before the shoe drops.

 

But Sheba and I braved it in the early morning, walking/jogging down back alleys to the park. We sniffed the grass, smelled the coffee, and admired the many glooming blue delphiniums and pink hollyhocks, towering above back fences.   We saw some grape vines trailing along and on top of fences, clusters of little green grapes showing through the leaves.  It was a magnificent sight, nature’s colours glowing through the grey.  It gave us heart.

IMG_5481So though the day was grey, I saw my inner world filled with the colours of the rainbow – much like the colours of  Daphne’s bouquet from her garden.  Even Monet could not out do Nature’s artistry.

Its beauty is there for all of us to share and enjoy.  It’s not something you can covet, own and hoard in your own private museum like a painting.  It’s there for the moment.  Then it is gone to be reborn in another time and place.

The skies did not lift.  I did some slow weeding and watering of my flower pots.  One thing led to another.  Somehow I cleaned up some beds and transplanted perennials.  I finished reading about Stephanie Plum and Lulu’s adventure in Fearless Fourteen.  Did you know that Stephanie had dreams of being Wonder Woman when she was a girl?  How awesome!

IMG_6845The first raindrops came at supper time.  It pittered pattered on the deck roof.  A breeze came up, stirring the purple petunias on the deck railing.  It was a pretty sight.  Distant thunder rumbled and lightning flashed.  It was a dramatic and romantic backdrop to our evening meal.

The heavens gathered more force through the evening and night.  The wind grew and the rain poured.  Thunder and lightning continued to play and grumble across the sky.  Was it God reminding us to mind how we walk on this earth?  Was He sending the artilleries because we are such fools and don’t listen well?

He has my attention.  Now I know why I was sleepless.  I was feeling his tension – his wrath as he brewed over his children.  He has exploded, the storm over – still gifting us his tears to wet the dry earth.  I feel relief.