Archive for March, 2013

There’s water in my glass.  Strange, isn’t it?  It’s clear with bubbles on the inside of the glass.  It smells weird, too.  I look across the table at my host.  He’s a unique looking creature.  He has two eyes with a nose in middle and mouth underneath the nose.  His teeth are whitish.  He has long arms with what the books say are “hands” at the end.  I’d like to see his feet, but I fear it would not be proper to ask to view them.  Another of his kind joins him.  This one is a female with protrusion on her chest.  Breasts is the proper term for them.  The books say they have live births rather than lay eggs or drop seeds.  AND they have to tend their young for two decades.  I can’t imagine that.

Oh, they’re talking again.  I cant my head to let them know I’m listening. “What are they saying?” I ask myself.  They are using words that weren’t in my books.  Now they stand up and move toward the door. The male motions to me hoping I will follow.  I stand slowly.  It is our way.  I walk slowly in their direction.  I hear the solid creaking my body makes when in motion.  This is normal.  Their silent walking is strangely unfamiliar, but seems to be normal for them.  I’ll have to add that to the textbooks.  As I approach them, I see what they call a mirror.  This strange thing that shows me one of my kind, who is not really there.  I turn to face my-kind-not-my-kind.  I see roots out of soil, strong trunk with bark like mine.  It is also a willow Ent, with many long whips hanging about its face.  I bow to my-kind-not-my-kind and head out the door.


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Write your story from the perspective of the astronaut Stuart Roosa.  Why did he take the seeds with him?  How did he feel when the first one sprouted?  How does he feel about the project now?  You can answer all or just a few of these questions, or come up with your own.  Have fun.

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Janie awoke to the silence.  She’d set her alarm clock for 6 a.m.  She had to get to work by 9 o’clock sharp.  If she was late again, she’d loose her job.  With the economy the way it was, jobs were very hard to find.  It was still dark.  She reached for her alarm clock and pressed the button for the light.  9:17 stared back at her.  “That has to be wrong,” she thought.  She put the clock down and sat up.  She cocked her head to one side, listening.  Silence.  She stood up, walked to the door, and flipped on the light switch.  “Great,” she thought as the room stayed dark.  She moved to the window and opened the curtains.  It stayed dark.  “Where’s the sun?” she said in a whisper.  She reached out to touch the glass.  Yes.  The curtains were open.  Janie lit a candle on her nightstand.  The room appeared out of the dark.  She looked around.  Nothing was moved.  Nothing out of the ordinary.  “Where’s the sun?” she asked the candle.

She used the candle to select her clothes.  After dressing, she walked to the kitchen with the candle in hand.  She tried the light switch.  Nothing.  She opened the curtain over the sliding glass doors and opened them.  She stepped outside into the chill of night.   A light dusting of snow covered the ground.  No street lights.  No house lights.  Neighbors moved around with flashlights and candles.

“Excuse me,” she called out to one of them.  “What’s happening?”

The man shone his flashlight in her face before lowering it.  “Sorry,” he said.  “No one knows.  Bob’s trying to get his generator running.  He plans to listen to the emergency channel on his HAM radio.”

“Hey! Everyone!” Bob cried out.  They all moved to Bob’s garage.  Janie stood in the middle of the crowd and listened.

“This is the emergency broadcast station.  The President has ordered marshal law.  Everyone is asked to stay indoors.”  Janie shivered as the cold became more real.

Bob changed the channel.  “This is W4/G3ABC.  I’m broadcasting from the Gladstone Observatory in Nevada.  The government isn’t telling what really happened.  They don’t want to start a panic.  Last night several meteors hit the sun.  Soon after the first one hit, we noticed a change in the sun.  This change spread around each meteor as they hit.  The sun,” he paused, “The sun’s nuclear reaction has ceased.  It sent out an ionic storm that took out our electrical grid and most satellites.  At 0519, the sun went completely dark.”

Janie felt a wave of panic.  The neighbor’s were all talking at once.  Some were in shock.  One woman screamed.  Janie looked around.  A neighbor’s old dog walked away from the crowd as it started to snow again.  “What’s going to happen to us?” Janie thought.

Freya in the Dark Snow

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Nature's Pathway

You are walking in the woods with your best friend, who points out this naturally made path.  Your friend talks you into walking the path to see where it leads.


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Late last summer, my greenhouse was invaded by puffball mushrooms.  They arrived with the mulch that was used in the walkway between the raised bed and workbench.  The puffballs showed up on the west end of the raised bed.  They have white thread-like roots that are much larger than the area of the puffballs themselves.  Imagine seeing a dozen or so puffballs that are spread out over about a foot of soil.  The roots underneath are closer to three feet in diameter.  As a consequence, I’ve decided to remove the soil from the western half of the raised bed.  The soil will be taken down to the garden.

Today, I transplanted baby garlic to pots.  I also transplanted parsnips and removed potted plants from the biomass of the raised bed which helped them overwinter.  The next step is to remove the fungus infested soil and take it to the garden.  The third step is to mix the new soil to refill the raised bed.  The fourth step is to plant seeds.

The soil mix will be 1/3 peat moss, 1/3 perlite, and 1/3 compost.  This is the mix that is currently in the raised bed.  I like the effect this soil mix has on plants, like the Cherokee Purple tomato that became so huge last year.

So, once the fungus is gone, I’ll be back to the business of growing things for my family’s dinner table.

These are the new stairs that lead from the greenhouse to the garden.

These are the new stairs that lead from the greenhouse to the garden.

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They’re at it again. Cats running and wrestling. The dog whines. They need to be let out. The house is chilly. I don’t want to get out my nice, warm bed. I put it off. They don’t stop. The noises made by my pets gets louder. I put it off. They get louder and more rambunctious. The bed is so warm, so comfortable. I put it off. The cats start arguing. I can’t put it off any longer. I get out of bed, warm into chill. I go over to the telescreen. I press a button that opens the door to let the pets out. I press the button again to feed them, and again to water them. By now, I’m cold. “Okay, I’m up,” I say.

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Walking Away

Who is the man in this photo?  Why is he walking away with his head down?  What does his posture say about how he feels?  Write a story about him.  Feel free to share here or e-mail me.  Enjoy!


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