I hope you all are not hiding in your beds because of today.
Get out there and see what wonderful things can happen.
I have seen our good friend and VP of IECWC Cyndy Largarticha’s Photo Gallery today and just want to say she has some great photos there.
I will put her link on my blog if she’s okay with that.

“Sweet are the uses of adversity.”
–William Shakespeare

Have you had an experience that was so vivid that it stayed with you a long time. Something from your childhood that was an awaking or a shock or a big scare?
Or was it something that just happened? I have one from my childhood. All it takes is for someone to mention a word or a place. The word for me is “Opossum”!
Or possum. It doesn’t matter which word is used, or if I see a possum, I’m sucked back to a day in my grandfather’s hen house. If you have a word that pulls you back to something that ties into that word, write about it. No word or place or person or thing comes to mind? I’ll give you one. Or two.
King. Or Queen. You can’t tell me that somewhere in you past or right now, those two words take you to something vivid in your mind.
Set your timer and write.
Those that are bored and want to hear the story of the hen house here it is.

When I stayed at my grandparent’s house for the weekend, one of my jobs was to collect the eggs. Grandpa had “Bannie” chickens in a hen house that been an old green house. The house was nothing but strips of thin wood that form the structure. I went in one morning and made my way around the house checking the nests. The house was dark and covered by grape vines. Only one area was lit by the sun. The nests were in one dark corner away from all the perches. The nests were old orange crates that were built like high rise cubbyholes in a roll top desk. Those were the /big buck/ nests. The cheep side of the hen house had old buckets and barrels turned on their sides and stacked so some where up off the ground. It was in that very dark corner of the house I was groping my hand under chickens and empty nests to find the warm fresh eggs.
One bucket was tipped on it’s side and there were rags and hay lining it to make the nest soft. One egg sat in the nest, and as I reached for it a fierce hiss and snarl made me jump. Coming out from under the rags was a possum. He had egg all over his face. Not what I had expected. I dropped the basket I was carrying and ran out of the hen house.
I can’t hear the word or see the animal without that vivid image jumping to the front of my mind.
Have a great weekend.
Keep writing!
Aleta

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