Tag: Time

October Passes

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 9 Comments

Hello Everyone. I suppose in many parts of the world, the month of October has passed into history, while we have only five hours left in this month. But I didn’t want to see it disappear without sending a note to those of you who are still following my blog.

As I said, for many of you November has started, and with it NaNoWriMo. I wonder how many of you are participating in the National November Writing Month this time around?

No NaNoWriMo for me this year. Rather, I’ve been painting landscape scenes. We’re having a little Luncheon and Craft Sale at the seniors’ residence where I cook part time and I’m planning to get a table there to sell some of my amateur paintings. Each vendor will look after selling their own stuff, whatever handmade crafts or baking they may do. This will take place one day toward the end of November, so I still have a few weeks to paint up a storm — and some calm seas, some mountain valleys, a few prairie scenes, the odd bird.

Other than that, life is going on as usual for us. The chillier weather has come; last weekend the ground was wet three times from passing cloud sprinkles. (Can’t really say bursts.) We’ll welcome whatever comes, and the frost in the mornings has helped to settle the road dust.

We celebrated our daughter’s 50th birthday on Thursday, then I invited the family here for dinner today and we celebrated again. Fifty is quite the milestone on the highway of life!

Now I shall leave you with this quote — and try to think of next month in this light. 🙂

Bath Time Down the Drain

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 7 Comments

RUSH, RUSH, RUSH

Shower in a hurry,
toss on some clothes and go!
I still recall those deeper soaks
enjoyed so long ago.

I’d fill the tub to brimming
soak til I was a prune
recalling ancient jingles,
rehashing them off-tune.

“Nothin’ says lovin’ like somethin’ from the oven…”
Blub…blub… “Life is a Mutual Affair!”
“Wherever you go…trust Texaco.”
“…they’ll love to run their fingers through your hair.”

Always in a hurry now,
no time for bubble bathing;
pursuing self-set deadlines,
must forego marinating.

For I’ve become a cyber scribe,
at my computer slogging;
from early morn ’til midnight
composing posts and blogging.

Image: Kevin Phillips — Pixabay

Beware the Time Thief!

~ Christine Goodnough ~ 2 Comments
Image by Carlos Eduardo Du — Pixabay
I saw the old thief, Father Time,
Come hirpling down the road;
He had a sack upon his back,
Lost minutes were his load.
He opened it and showed to me
Not minutes, but a host
Of years, decades, a century
And more of minutes lost.
"I want to buy year," I said,
"And I shall pay you well."

"If this earth's mould were finest gold,
To you I would not sell,
For I have minutes stolen from kings,
From Milton, Shakespeare, Bach.
How could you buy such precious things?
Your common gold is trash!"…
He tied his sack and said, "Farewell.
Young man, I've got my fee,"
For, while I tried to make him sell,
He stole an hour from me!

-- Harvey Scott

How many moments will old Father Time
try to steal from you and me in 2021?