November #BlogBattle: Cultivate

At the beginning of 2022, I had the overwhelming notion of cultivating something. Something I had never had much luck with before.

I chose tomatoes.

I had always wanted to do this, but previous efforts had always failed for one reason or another. This time, I was sure we would grow our own tomatoes.

I researched all the different types of tomatoes, confident I would make the right choice. Several packets of seeds arrived in the post, and I started to gather all the pots and soil I would need.

This was all happening when the year was young and hadn’t yet acquired that air of doom and gloom that would eventually descend and taint everything.

I felt like a proper gardener as I prepared the pots and planted the seeds. Every day I would inspect them, waiting eagerly to see the first pale new shoots appearing. I remember being so happy when the first seedlings broke through the soil.

Just one week later, I went outside to see my charges, to be met with the scene of a disaster. Something had attacked the pots, and the ground was littered with displaced soil and battered seedlings. I tried my best to replant them all, but inside, I was seething. Who or what had done this?

It seemed to take a long time for the seedlings to recover, and I secretly waited for them to curl up their toes and give up the fight. To be honest, that’s what I wanted to do, as my dream had been spoiled.

Slowly, they did recover and grew taller. Soon the pale yellow star-shaped flowers appeared, shortly followed by tiny tomatoes. Whether it was being so cruelly disturbed, the lack of sunshine, or the absence of luck, these tomatoes never grew very big. Disappointingly small, although definitely sweet.

I still wonder what had sabotaged my efforts and whether I will try again next year…

©JayeMarie2022

WIP Wednesday…

I thought I would get to the end of my current WIP, Ghost of a Chance, yesterday…

BUT…

I expect many of you have reached this point, only to have the same thing happen to you.

In my head, one by one, each character had a but, and to be fair, they were legitimate buts.

Consequently, I spent the evening reviewing their ideas. I realised the story was nowhere near finished.

I eventually switched off my brain and went to bed after scribbling several pages of notes and detailed plans for at least three more chapters. As I fell asleep, I knew why this had happened. It had happened before with one of my earlier books. After staring at the story, day after day, I had become obsessed with coming to the end, as if this would magically be the answer. Of course, it never is. On that earlier occasion, the ending I came up with was rushed, and it showed. Badly…

Endings are so essential to get right. It’s a shame they came at a time when we wish we hadn’t started…

Is this bad habit just me, or have any of you had this problem?

I Used to be Strong…

Image by edith lüthi from Pixabay
I used to be strong

Invincible, unbreakable, and fearless
That seemed so long ago now
I can no longer remember how it felt
Maybe it was a dream after all
Or someone I used to know

I used to think I could do anything

Was this something I imagined?
Looking back at my life 
I could be seeing someone else 
someone who doesn't look like me
Doing things, I never did

I used to imagine a better life

Where pain and sorrow never belonged
A life full of joy and happiness
A life of peace and contentment
Where did my careful imaginings go?
Was I considered unworthy?

©JayeMarie2022

Wishing everyone a lovely weekend, whatever you get up to!

I’m Thinking…

The words of Anita’s poem today, What Remained, have set me thinking.

Really thinking, something I don’t think I have been doing much of lately.

I have a really good built-in autopilot, so sometimes I don’t need to switch my brain on, and most of the time it works well, especially if I don’t feel well. (Like lately!)  Just don’t ask me what I have been doing all day, because I won’t be able to tell you!

I must be getting better, for I am definitely thinking.

Those words have me wondering what will come after I have gone. Have I created anything worth being remembered for?

I like to think I have done my best so far, even though the last two years have been a nightmare, coping with the pandemic, being a carer and everything else… but it doesn’t seem like the best to me, so I think that is what my brain is trying to tell me.

I know from past experience that it is possible to create anything with enough determination, even when it feels impossible.

However, it is never easy, and the only reason I mention it is that I remember how I felt afterwards. I think I need to feel that again, so planning a think up weekend to see what I can come up with…

I hope everyone has a wonderful weekend, with lots of good things and great thoughts!

The Sunday Whirl ~ Wordle 554

Thunder woke my sleep
Lightning turned my room translucent
As if I were dreaming
There is order in the world I am told
I freeze, this is different
There in the light I could see forms, people
Are they on a journey? 
passing through our world?
Guided by the power of lightening
I search their faces, wondering
If there could be someone I know
It is spellbinding, I am drawn to them
They are pointing north, 
as if trying to tell me something
So much in a flash of lightning
I took it to be a sacred moment
If it is something I am meant to know
It will come to me…

©AnitaDawes2022

The Sunday Whirl Wordle ~#553 ~ #Poetry

I close my eyes at night
Hoping they open in the morning
I lie beneath the covers
Waiting for the nightmares to begin
A single crow, hovers above me
I hear a shot of thunder
I slip away, against a clear black sky
A million stars, brighter than I have seen before
They fly towards me, a single flower in my hand
Can I beat back the nightmares?
To place the flower in my mother’s hand?

©AnitaDawes2022

Looking Back in Time… Remembering…

This post was written a while ago and is one of my favourites. I really must do more of these…

DSCF2214
My Screensaver

I am in the habit of changing my screen saver/background image quite often. I  like to have something lovely on my computer screen, as it is the first thing I see every morning.

This picture appealed to me for several reasons. I love trees, and this one is lovely but also ethereal, the mist hiding most of the scene. I particularly like the contrast between the nakedness of the sleeping tree and the tree covered in blossom.

I have recently found myself  ‘skimming’ when reading and writing, and I am not seeing or describing anything enough, which is not good. This post is an exercise not only for my eyes but also for my imagination. I don’t want to think of my old age robbing me of so much of my enjoyment of life.

The blossom tree in this image attracted me first, being frustratingly out of focus enough to prevent easy identification. The blossoms are pure white, with no hint of colour, and the petals are delicate and small. The branches look old, but the slender double trunk would suggest otherwise. Are there any more clues in the picture?

The tree is blooming very early. The companion trees are still bare, their branches stark and austere looming through the mist. Winter has not long departed, as I imagine the chilly dampness of the morning on my skin. The shrubbery in the background is sparse, too, confirming that Mother Nature is not fully awake yet.

My mind sifts through my knowledge of flowering trees and comes up with a likely choice. Is it a Magnolia, one of the small-flowered varieties, maybe Stellata?

Moving on from the details of the image, my mind is not finished. I wonder where this lovely little tree is. The setting would suggest a park, for the area seems too big to be someone’s garden. Vague images hide in the mist, indicating far more space than first thought.

Could that be a roof I see? It doesn’t look like the roof of a house, though…

My mind yearns to explore this scene, visit the tree and then walk into the mist to see what I can discover…

Jaye

Nothing Disappears Entirely ~ Carrot Ranch Literary Community ~ #Poetry

March 28: Story Challenge in 99-words


Time fades, memory fades
We are destined to fade into history
Our names may be remembered
if we are lucky
To dust we return, part of the earth
Does that mean we remain?
Where is the light that we carried?
Does it shine in some unseen dimension?
Can we be called back?
Would you want to return?
It is believed many do return
Often, their light can be remembered
as one you knew long ago
In the face of a new-born
Something recognised
Nothing disappears entirely
Everything, it is said, 
leaves a trace mark
In some unseen fashion…

©AnitaDawes2022

I Don’t Know… #Poetry

Image by Stefan Keller from Pixabay
Who do we pray to when we kneel?
I don’t know
A God made by man
From clay, like a golem
Brought to life by wishing it so
We gave Him all the power
save free will?

It is written, ask, knock
and the door will open
Like open sesame
Why do we ask, knock?
only to get no answer
I DON’T KNOW

We gave him a get out clause
His mysterious ways
Yet his name is the first from our lips
When troubles pursue
STILL, I DON’T KNOW


 ©AnitaDawes2022