Scribbles on Scraps

Hello Fellow Bloggers,

Are you an organized type, with all your files in order? Or are like me, jotting down ideas in small notebooks and notepads, then stashing them away in a “To Be Finished” bin, to wait for that “round-to-it” miracle? In a way, it’s like having cookie or bread dough in the freezer, waiting to be thawed, shaped and baked. As is, it’s inedible, but too easily stored “for future use.”

Note.Open Clip Art.pngI’ve been going through my scrap bits of scribbles again, pondering whether to chuck or post them. At any rate, it’s TIME to make some decisions. Life is sliding by and the pile keeps growing. I need to take my pick in hand and work away at this paper peak.

One of the first things I found was this groan-worthy limerick scribbled one day when I was in the mood to do limericks. Not satisfied after 4 or 5 tries, I stashed the verse for future improvement.

A TALE Of TWO FLEAS

On the pup’s tail two fleas hung on tight
which gave its young mistress a fright.
When she grabbed the hammer
the dog did a scrammer;
there’s worse things in life than a bite.

Little Pilgrim

but how will you know
where the sweet flowers grow
my little pilgrim

Hummer.GeorgeB2
       GeorgeB2 – Pixabay

August 24th and the female hummingbirds are still here, definitely three, maybe even four. They’re making frequent trips to feeders, tanking up — if peewees like this can tank up.  I think of the long journey ahead of them and wonder where all they will stop en route. Have they travelled this route before? Do they know where to find the best rest stops, flower beds and feeders on their route? Will they return to our yard next June?

Here on the Saskatchewan plains the grain fields have been turning golden blond in the warm sunshine these past few weeks. I imagine some farmers would be out swathing today if the weather looked promising, but we’ve just had a day of rain and a few sprinkles this morning. Weather the farmers don’t want to see while their precious heads of grain are still in the fields.

 

The Art of Mooching

Here’s my response to this week’s Crimson’s Creative Challenge #41. You’ll find this HERE at Crispina’s blog, and see what others have written as a response to the photo prompt below.

https://crimsonprose.files.wordpress.com/2019/08/2-geese.jpg

Mooching Know – How

“Your approach is all wrong, Frizzy. If you hope to get anything from these park tourists, you gotta look like you haven’t eaten for awhile. Flatten those feathers — and please suck in that paunch. An undercarriage like that makes you look positively plump. Last thing you want is to look ready for the platter if the caretaker’s wife comes around.

Ah… Here comes another bunch…bringing popcorn! We’ll eat well if we just hang around this parking lot and look needy. Honk like you barely have the strength. Limp a bit, but don’t overdo it. Lame birds tend to land up in the soup pot.

Watch your toes with those little ones tramping around or you may be limping for real. And whatever you do, don’t let them get their hands around your neck. They love doing that. They may be a miniature variety, but they can be wild.

The Yellow Brick Road?

Here’s my response to Crimson’s Creative Challenge #40. A bit of nonsense maybe, but I had fun imagining where this trail might take a person. 🙂

Can This Be The Yellow Brick Road?

“You need to follow the yellow brick road,” someone told me. “That’s where your dreams will all come true.”

I googled yellow brick road and it brought up an album by Elton John. It appears his dream has come true, but I was actually hoping for a successful career on Wall Street.

So I programmed the navigation system in my car for “yellow brick road” and followed the voice carefully. However, when the synthetic lady told me to head west on County Road #64, a narrow lane, I got a bit nervous. What kind of career awaits me out here in the boonies?

I abandoned the car when the country road morphed into Shady Trail. After a thirty-minute hike I’m seeing a shining path ahead, but it doesn’t look like yellow bricks. Still, I kind of like the peace and quiet here. Perhaps I’ll become a famous naturalist.