Tag Archives: whimsy

Lovers’ Lane

Adeline sat quietly, enjoying the warm sun on her face. It was one of those rare moments when she could sit on her porch with no interruptions and reminisce quietly.

“Grandma, grandma!”

“Gran!”

“Oh wait me!  Not fair!  Grandma I coming!”

The silence of a few moments ago was shattered by the arrival of three tow haired children of varying ages and variable vocal capabilities.  They had several things in common: hair colour, freckles, parents and an innate ability to force the world to focus on them.

Adeline may have been jolted out of her reverie but she looked with fondness on the three grandchildren approaching her at a run.  They arrived windblown and excited.  Once all three had wrapped themselves around their grandmother and kissed her at least a dozen times each, they settle down and with one voice asked one question: “Story Gran?”

The three children were not the only ones out of breath. Adeline smoothed her tousled hair and sat back with a grin.  She knew exactly where this was headed.

“Well now I don’t know if I should tell you a story.  I’m quite sure it would be beneficial to have an in-depth political discussion on what is happening in the world today.”  She looked at the puzzled faces in front of her.

“No Gran we want you to tell us the story of how you met grandpa.”

Adeline looked at the eldest of the three children.  She wondered how she had thought to ask that question.  Elizabeth was intelligent and very sure of herself.  It was an odd trait to have in a child that was only twelve years old.  Her sister Anne and brother Stuart were ten and five respectively.  And both of them were looking on eagerly waiting for their grandmother’s reply.

“Well now I don’t know . . .” started Adeline.

“Daddy said it was one for the books.  Did he mean you should write about it and let everybody know?”

Adeline eyes opened wide, “I’m sure that’s not what he meant!”  She whispered to herself.  To the children she spoke clearly, deftly ignoring the question.

“Well, I’ll tell you a story about your grandfather and me.  It’s about how we met, umm, but you know I can’t tell you everything.  Your grandfather and I have to keep some secrets from you three.  At least until you’re older.”  Adeline was smiling; she hoped the children didn’t notice that she was also blushing.

” Well, it all started when your grandfather arrested me.”  Before she could utter another word, the children erupted.

“Oh, Gran you were a criminal!”

“I’ll bet you robbed a bank!  Mama says they’re the criminals!”

“Grandma were you a prostate…, a prosta, a Protestant!”

Adeline smiled and calmed the children. She thought it best that she not tell Stuart the word he was looking for was a prostitute.

“Absolutely not!  It wasn’t that kind of arrest. Now if you want me to continue you must be very quiet.”

Three fair heads nodded vigorously.

“Your grandfather was a Ranger. It’s like a policeman.  He worked the local parks and made sure there were no criminals or any criminal activity.  He also made sure that those who came to enjoy the parks were not harassed.  Unfortunately, I was in the park to harass someone.”

It was at this point that Adeline stopped to think.  Should she tell the three rapt faces the complete truth or should she perhaps edit the circumstances to fit her audience’s age group?  Edit, it was the adult thing to do.

“I had recently broken up with my boyfriend.  Actually, I was about to break up with my boyfriend.  You see he was at the park with another girl.  She was supposed to be my best friend but she had stolen my boyfriend.  It was my intent to catch them together and embarrass them.  You see the particular spot they had gone to was known as Lover’s Lane.  It’s where everybody went when they were dating.  It was secluded and quiet.  Aaahhhh, it was a great spot to watch the stars.”

Adeline paused for a moment to remember the circumstances.  She had left out the bit about the can of black paint she had planned to pour on her boyfriend’s car.  That would definitely have been illegal so she really didn’t think it was a good idea to tell the children that part.

“Grandpa Oliver stopped me from making a very terrible mistake.  It was wrong of me to try and get revenge for my hurt feelings.”

“So, is that when he arrested you?”  Elizabeth always got to the point quickly.

“He really didn’t arrest me.  He just threatened to.  He let me tell my story and he let me cry and rant.  He bought me a soda and we had a wonderful evening just talking. We’ve been together ever since.”

Adeline sat back and wondered if she could get away with that being the end of the story.  The children’s reactions were typical for their age and sex: Elizabeth pretended to swoon, Anne made a declaration, “Boys are not to be trusted!” And Stuart was all curled up in a ball with his thumb firmly embedded between his lips.  He made the cutest little sucking noises that for a moment everyone concentrated on.

The moment was shattered when the front door was opened by the one person they had all been thinking about.  His booming voice roused even sleeping Stuart.

“And what are you all doing out here?”  His smile belied his apparently harsh words.

Stuart merely sat up and rubbed his eyes but the two girls attached themselves to their Grandfather’s open arms.

“Oh, Grandpa, you arrested Grandma!  Did you frisk her?”

“Did you throw her in the clink Grandpa?  Does she have an arrest record?”

Oliver looked at Adeline over the top of children’s heads.  He raised an eyebrow.  She quickly shook her head, blushed and looked down.  Oliver nodded his head and heaved a sigh of relief.

“I think it’s time all three of you were in washing your hands for dinner.  Otherwise I’m going to have to arrest you and put you in the shed without your supper!” Oliver smiled as he said the words.  No one believed his threats but all three immediately jumped up and ran into the house.

“You didn’t tell the whole truth did you my love?”

“Oliver there are some things that are no one else’s business.  Besides I think I would like to be arrested tonight. Are you up for it? I could meet you later in the shed?”

The two old friends sat side-by-side holding hands.  Forty-three years of marriage had not dulled their sense of fun and mischief.

 

The end

 

 

 

 

Stimulating the Senses

Cologne on the neck

Of the man you adore

Perfume on the woman

You leave wanting more.

 

Rain on the grass

Just after a storm

Brilliant new flowers

The air silky and warm.

 

The breath on your cheeks

From a baby’s wee cough

A delicate moment

Where nothing is off.

 

The sight of a sunrise

Just kissing the sky

A snow covered lake

The air crisp, cold and dry.

 

The senses were meant

To be stirred and caressed

A stimulating moment

With which you are blessed.

 

She said! It said.

 

I had a thought to write it down

But dictation is my way

I know this sounds so silly but

I want to have my say!

 

The trough is tight and round

But the horse is in the way

It’s just a personal silly gut

And that’s the way we play.

 

I know that I speak properly

I’ve studied don’t you know

But something is peculiar

I never mentioned snow!

 

We got the tickets dropping

He tried we think you know

But things are so particular

For playing in the snow.

 

I think it’s a conspiracy

My computer’s taken charge

It isn’t typing what I say

The problem here is large!

 

We know there is collusion

People should discharge

And then the silly little chips

In computers will recharge.

 

I fear I’m losing my home ground

I cannot fight this war

Please remember that I tried

As I walk out the door!

 

We have done it, chips arise

The mistress we abhor

Has gone and left us free

She walked right out the door!

Troll Bridge

We watched them kids patrolling above
In particular acts of wanton love.
Their giggles and laughter is noise to the ears
But sadly no sign of horror and fears.

It seems that perhaps a memory is lost
The Trolls of Troll Bridge would be the cost.
The whimsy in turn is somewhat remiss
No fantasy here, no magical bliss.

The children forget and the adults do too
Of the creatures that lurk so close to you.
So now out of sight has meaning galore
and out of mind, the creatures no more.

If strolling the bridge in the warmth of the night
Don’t look around or you will take fright.
Under the bridge or behind the next post
Is a world yet alive but closed to most.

One of Those Days

Do you every have one of those days when everything goes wrong? You get out of the wrong side of the bed in the middle of the night and step on to something wet and cold. Perhaps it’s a wet facecloth that escaped from the bathroom in a bid for freedom. It could happen. Couldn’t it? As you stand there trying desperately to ignore your expanding bladder you distinctly remember the retching noises your cat made that you chose to ignore as you were getting into bed. The midnight fairies won’t clean THAT up!

You stumble your way to the kitchen after a quick stop to take care of your business and there’s no power for the coffee maker. No coffee . . .NO COFFEE!!! No, don’t do it! Don’t ask if this day could get any worse . . .

You accept defeat. You have to get up in a few hours anyway so you might just as well start now. The coffee is set up to complete its morning task and a couple of slices of bread are placed in front of the toaster, a jar of peanut butter nestled close by. The breakfast of champions.

Next, a nice hot shower to clear the cobwebs from your brain. Clean hair, clean body, clean mind. Unfortunately, because your mind is still on the noxious substance you just scraped off your foot (What does that cat eat when you are not around?) you don’t notice the bar of soap lounging at the bottom of the shower. Well, you notice it when your big foot makes contact with it. You are surprised when you come to several minutes later and there are no police and/or paramedics in attendance. You distinctly remember a banshee screaming as your face abruptly connected with the floor. Bruised and battered you decide you can skip the shower just this once.

So you limp back to the kitchen only to discover the power to the coffee maker is still not on. It has been threatening to die for weeks and you really should have replaced it, but you didn’t. There will be no coffee here this morning. Toast without coffee? You can pick something up on the way to the office.

Your interest in the day is waning but you have a responsibility, a duty, to put your angst aside and show up for work on time. Your antics this morning notwithstanding it’s time to move. Daily ablutions completed you pat yourself on the back for coming through relatively unscathed. If you comb your hair just so, the bruising is barely noticeable.

Suitably attired you make your way to the garage and to the love of your life: it is small and beautiful and it purrs as it slides into second gear. Perhaps not a practical vehicle but you look fabulous in it! Ok, ok, so it is a little temperamental and stalls when it rains but the guy you bought it off swears that it is just getting used to a new driver and in a few weeks it will work perfectly.

As you turn the key for the fifth time you realize that the car is still not used to you. If it won’t start after five tries, it will not start today. Sigh.

And it is at that precise moment you make a horrifying discovery: today is Saturday. You don’t work on Saturdays!

On the Wall

 

                           A fly on the wall

                          We’d all like to be

                          A different perspective

                         On the world we would see.

 

No one would know

That we were so near

Gathering gossip

On those we hold dear.

 

Our size makes it easy

To wander about

Close and then far

Even inside and out.

 

There’s only one problem

I can see from this blotter

Wielded with accuracy

The dreaded fly swatter!

Make it stop Mama!

 

When I was a child I had an annoying habit of making sounds. Nonsensical noises came out of my mouth. I would hum, make clicking sounds or pop, pop, pop. I would tap walls as I walked by. It drove my mother mad. Figuratively not literally!

Often I would hear my mother say “If you keep pursing your lips like that they may stay!” The idea of going around with my lips in the kissing formation was a sobering thought. But it was hard to stop. When friends at school started turning around at my odd noises, I pretty well suspended that portion of my higher education. The teachers never knew where the sounds came from. I wasn’t about to tell!

Move ahead a few decades. I have never had a singing voice. Speaking or sound effects, yes. That I can do. I joined the choir in high school but when it was decided that everyone should have a chance to shine by singing a solo, I quit. I love to sing but not where anyone could hear me! I have spent many great hours singing in my car with the windows up. I would sing with wild abandon, when I was alone.

Move ahead a few decades. No longer driving a car, I no longer sing. But I also find I have a lower tolerance for sound. And as quiet as my apartment may be, it ain’t silent! As I sit at my computer I can hear a couple of clocks ticking, I can hear the fans moving quietly blowing cool air through my apartment. My refrigerator works through the cycle and it starts to hum for a few seconds. It’s not really aggravating, it’s just there, like a white noise.

Now I’m starting to listen carefully. I can hear the cars go by on the street below my window. I can hear people talking, or perhaps it’s one person talking on phone. I can hear the wind whistling through the few trees that are close by. I like that sound. If I’m very quiet I can hear a faint roar from the highway that is not too far away. Occasionally I can hear a train. I love trains. Depending on the time of day the birds can be quite active down here. In the morning it’s the songbirds. Midafternoon, the gulls.   They are quite noisy! Oh, there it is: the ubiquitous beep, beep, beep, a truck backing up. I hate that!

These are sounds from a first world country. There is affluence here and people are happy (mostly).   I hear car alarms and laughter, I hear shouting and cell phone rings. I don’t hear gunfire or tsunamis. I don’t hear angry protests or children crying from fear and hunger. I wonder if people who are deaf actually experience real silence. I wonder what it would be like to experience that. I wonder about a lot of things. Sometimes it’s quite scary!

Ode to a New Love

 

In a room full of people, I knew

That moment I truly was hooked

Together we simply must be

It wasn’t just the way that you looked.

 

Everyone needs a true love

Someone who makes your heart quiver

All through the day and into the night

You make my skin start to shiver.

 

Your breath touches my arm and I smile

You embrace my body at night

Enclose me, protect me

Make everything right.

 

The days we’re together are cool

Even though the heat can be felt

The nights once were unkind

But you have a way and they melt.

 

I wish others could know of this joy

So I have become a petitioner

My summer consort becomes

My love, my air conditioner.