Ponderings and Poems
Ponderings and Poems
Random prose that struck a chord in me several years ago.Again, something I plan to update/change/etc "one of these days"
All writings on this page are copyright CABell. Reproduction is prohibited without express permission of the author.
My grandfather used to say that his favorite color was skybluepink. I never understood until I watched a sunset. Not just stared at one in progress, but watched it from start to finish.
My response to his comment always used to be "Silly Grandpa! That's not a color!" Five minutes of back and forth of "yes it is" and "no it isn't" would ensue, followed by a nose-tweak or something equally silly.
As I grew older, it simply became a standing joke. "I was going to bring you such-and-such, Grandpa, but they didn't have any in skybluepink."
Perhaps because I now work nights, I am paying more attention to things I used to take for granted, such as sunsets. Whatever the reason, I've found Grandpa's skybluepink. the blue of the sky, the pink-tinged clouds, merging, fusing, blending to create a fresh new array of colors. The palette changes with each sunset, but eventually, somehow, somewhere, there is usually at least one appearance of skybluepink.
... I just wish I could have told him I finally saw his favorite color
CABell, 07/28/95
He enjoyed fall. It was an overly busy time, with many preparations for the cold winter, but he enjoyed it nonetheless.
Maybe it was because it brought back memories of walks in the colorful woods with Gertrude and the children, pumpkin pies, fresh-pressed apple cider, and fat squirrels scampering about stashing acorns. A time of collecting and gathering, of setting things to rights before winter-induced sluggishness set in.
The day had started with a wispy fog curling hither and yon amidst the trees and pastures, and the sun seemed a bit anemic. He had the time to spare today, however, and knew that if he waited for a drier day, he might not be able to complete his expedition.
So he wandered off through the woods, his footfalls muted as he walked atop the damp leaves that had already fallen from the trees. A large empty backpack was slung over his shoulder, and his faded green eyes peered about intently at the trees.
At last he found what he was looking for -- a stand of butternut trees. He slid the backpack off his back, opened it, and set it on the ground. Then he crouched near it and began picking butternuts off the ground. A little over twice the size of a pecan, they were covered with a soft, fuzzy skin, and a hard, prickly shell underneath. It would take them a month or two to dry out enough for shelling and eating, and they were a real pain to crack, but he'd always found them worth the effort.
Unfortunately, his muscles were telling him that he wasn't as young as he used to be, and the squatting and bending began to send slow aches through his back and legs. His pack was about two-thirds full anyway, so he decided it was time to stop and stretch. He straightened up and began to walk in circles, working the kinks out of his wiry body.
Suddenly, he hit a patch of damp leaves in just the wrong way, and his feet flew out from under him. "Aaaaaaggghhhhhh!" He flailed about for a moment, trying to regain his balance, and then landed heavily on his back, his breath rushing out of him in a whoosh. Several moments passed as he tried to regain his breath and to get his stunned mind to realize just how he'd ended up horizontal.
At last his eyes focused and he finally managed to focus on the colorful leaves in the tree above his head. There seemed to be an odd spot in his vision, however ...
>>THUNK<<
There was a sharp pain between his eyes and odd chittering noises seemed to come from the tree above him. It was a while before he could process this new attack on his befuddled self, but finally it dawned on him that he'd been hit between the eyes with a nut, and that the noises were coming from two squirrels quarreling in the tree above him.
He could feel the damp starting to work its way though his clothes, as he lay there trying to get up the oomph to struggle to his feet. Several twinges told him that more than his pride was going to be sore for the next several days.
He enjoyed fall. Really he did ...
About "Fall" -- This is one of my favorite short vignettes, based on a storyline I was helping some friends with. My characters only had short bit-parts, and something one of the others had written made me think of fall, and of my kindly old stablehand, Gavin St.James. Add to this the experience of having grown up in the country and done nut-gathering expeditions, and I was hit with a very vivid image of Gavin, the weather, and the damp leaves.
<snicker> I decided to throw in some more "serious" writing ... sorta. Find out how much fun a physics paper can be (Indiana Jones and all) and what silliness can be found in a serf's-eye view of what should have been a research paper.
The rest of my writing that I'm willing to share is on my storylines page, which contains information about free-form roleplaying, and links to longer stories of mine.
Skybluepink artwork graciously provided by Varian, to whom I owe a debt of gratitude and friendship.
