Soon Comes Spring!

The Ragtag Daily Prompt this morning is SHILLY-SHALLY. An interesting alliteration, pall to dilly-dally, I suppose. M-W claims this morphed from folks of olden times dithering, asking “Stand shall I? Shall I?” I’ll use it in this verse:

Spring is Coming!

Though daylight hours be few
when February’s due
though deep the heaps of snow
and bitter winds that blow
though temps still shilly-shally
around the minus twenty
don’t despair, for seasons swing
we’re on our way to spring.

Can’t Be Done?

The Ragtag Daily Prompt today is PUNCTUATE. Rather than going into details about commas, colons and semi-colons, I’ll share this bit of history and add a favorite verse.

During his sermon one Sunday our Pastor described the scene when the children of Israel faced the promised land. They’d spent enough time trekking through the desert, now they were eager to go in and take possession of the land. First they sent spies to assess the situation–and especially the opposition. Twelve men went a-spying and came back bearing the fruit of the land, huge clusters of grapes, sheaves of grain, etc. Yes, it was indeed a fruitful land.

However, ten of the spies fretted about the men of the land: huge, fearsome, well armed men of war. “We were as grasshoppers in their sight.” They’d have to conquer great fortified cities. When the ten spies were done giving their report, protests and plaints punctuated the air. “Giants! Great walled cities! They’ll slaughter us! We just can’t do this!”

Joshua & Caleb, the other two spies encouraged the group. “Yes, we can! No need to fear.” Caleb urged them, “Let us go up at once, and possess it; for we are well able to overcome it….If the LORD delight in us, then he will bring us into this land, and give it us; a land which floweth with milk and honey.” (Account from Numbers 13: 25 to 14:40)

It Couldn’t Be Done

by Edgar Guest

Somebody said that it couldn’t be done
      But he, with a chuckle, replied
That “maybe it couldn’t,” but he would be one
      Who wouldn’t say so till he’d tried.
So he buckled right in with the trace of a grin
      On his face. If he worried he hid it.
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
      That couldn’t be done, and he did it!
Somebody scoffed: “Oh, you’ll never do that;
      At least no one ever has done it;”
But he took off his coat and he took off his hat
      And the first thing we knew he’d begun it.
With a lift of his chin and a bit of a grin,
      Without any doubting or quiddit,
He started to sing as he tackled the thing
      That couldn’t be done, and he did it.
There are thousands to tell you it cannot be done,
      There are thousands to prophesy failure,
There are thousands to point out to you one by one,
      The dangers that wait to assail you.
But just buckle in with a bit of a grin,
      Just take off your coat and go to it;
Just start in to sing as you tackle the thing
      That “cannot be done,” and you’ll do it.

Why Write?

The Bloganuary question today: Why do You Write?

Why do I write? God only knows.

You know, that may be as good an answer as any other.

Oh, I could give some down-to-earth reasons: I write to inform, to share images and concepts, to communicate, to give others a smile. I hope to entertain through the stories I write.

I may have altruistic reasons: a desire to improve the lot of my fellow human beings. Think of Charles Dickens. His stories had a huge impact on the attitudes of his readers. Through his writing, this one man effected a great change in the society he wrote for.

I write because I’ve met our Father, and hope to share with other children what I’ve learned about him. Tell them He’s not an amorphous, indifferent force somewhere in the universe, but a divine Parent who can, and wants to, speak with us and guide us.

I could give some self-centered thoughts: I have opinions and want to share them. Because, like most other folks on this planet, I think I see issues clearly. Or I may dream of gaining a name, respect, some dough. Alas, fat chance!

All the above may factor into why I write but if I were all alone on a desert island with a scribbler and a pencil, I’d still write. I’m an observer, a recorder, an enthusiast of interesting words.

I write because I’m hard-wired to write and to share my thoughts, just as some people are hard-wired to act. Some others on this desert island would be swinging an axe, felling trees, building a decent shelter. I’d be describing the trees, the flora & fauna, the moods of sea and sky.

Lastly…and this old autograph-book verse puts it so well:

Some people write for fortune,
some people write for fame.
I write to be remembered
so here I’ll sign my name.