Tag: Observations

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The Entertainer

ellenparkerwrites

Entertain = to amuse, divert attention.

No top hat or cane required for this master of the entertainment art.

As a solo act he’s amusing. Add a few of his friends and it gets hilarious.

They are at their seasonal best on a sunny day. Playing tag. Defending territory. Protecting their mate. Balance and acrobatics are a forte.

One winter a neighbor tried to be kind to the birds with a feeder of assorted seed. Not long after she filled it our little entertainer set about thievery. He stretched. He twisted and turned. He defied gravity – or it seemed that way – until both cheeks were stuffed full of birdseed. Then he gracefully dropped to the ground, glanced around for predators, and scampered away up the closest tree.

Some claim he’s a pest. And I agree that he and his friends can do damage when they attack man-made structures (ie. your attic). But as for me — I’ll continue to enjoy their vigorous activity from my side of the window. Or their clever way of crossing busy streets – think high wire act – during my neighborhood walks.

Thief? Entertainer? Acrobat?
Thief? Entertainer? Acrobat?

 

Writer Wednesday returns tomorrow!  Visit again for thoughts from Christian writer Donna Benson.

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Waiting to Play

ellenparkerwrites

Toys come in all shapes, sizes, and prices.

Water toys are no exception.

On our recent vacation my brother and I waited for a shuttle bus to take us to another portion of a historic estate. He picked up two maple leaves, pointed at the millrace beside us and offered a challenge. I declined on this day but understood well his offer of a boat race.

Going up the economic scale from leaves we quickly pass scrap lumber rafts and plastic bathtub boats. Model boats on a string give way to those with radio control. Generic boat yield to yachts, sloops, accurate navy models.

Then childhood passes. Graduation ceremonies and birthdays declare us adults. Yet our love of play continues. We confine it by hours or days, pour our energy into scant time in a grown-up version of childhood pleasure.

Waiting for the Weekend. When the bankers, lawyers, and brokers come out to play.
Waiting for the Weekend.
When the bankers, lawyers, and brokers come out to play.
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Crossing the River

ellenparkerwrites

When the United States was a young nation, rivers aided travelers and commerce. They were important routes to move people and goods – either raw, natural resources or later on, manufactured products.

As time and technology moved along the rivers became obstacles as well as trails.

Highways could ford a small stream. If it wasn’t running in spring flood. But larger bodies of water needed bridges. Yes, bridges have been built for centuries. Some of the old, stone structures are beautiful as well as practical.

But a new, growing nation needed more and more bridges to move more and more products on railroads and highways. Cities grew along rivers and begged for connection to the other side. Boats and barges using the waterways demanded unimpeded passage.

My hat’s off to the engineers of the bridges in the USA. Working within all sorts of restraints of time, space, and resources they have managed to give us routes, and alternate routes, to pass safely from one side of the river to the other.

Double deck highway bridge across the Ohio River.
Double deck highway bridge across the Ohio River.
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Chew Toy Deluxe

ellenparkerwrites

Every puppy needs a chew toy. Or two. Or three.

It only stands to reason then that special puppies need special toys.

On previous trips to the zoo these animals were too busy sleeping in the shade to bother with toys, each other, or the humans that pass in parade. Growing bodies need sleep. Cicadaian rhythm favors night – cooler, less crowded on the hunting ground.

Imagine my delight on this recent visit when they did “come out to play”. (Modification of St. Louis Zoo’s popular – Can you come out and play? – on promotional materials.)

Hyena with Industrial Strength Chew Toy
Hyena with Industrial Strength Chew Toy

Will they devour the bones after practicing on plastic? Do they laugh at the whimpy models?

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If the Shoe Fits

ellenparkerwrites

Sneakers. Flats. Sock feet.

Those are my usual foot attire. I’ve never calculated the miles I put on a pair of sneakers – several months as “good” plus more as primary for walks — before they hit the dumpster.

Unlike many of my fellow romance authors, I’m not a “shoe” person. If you tracked my shoe buying habits you’d find sneakers punctuated by hiking boots (for mission trip construction site), and snow boots (self-explanatory). Black dress flats and white flat sandals come out of the closet for a day here and there. The shoes, however, are old enough for their receipts to have been handwritten by a quill pen.

An assessment of the calendar early this month convinced me it was time to find “Ye Olde Fancy Dress” and check for fit and accessories before I pulled it on for an event. Dress fit. Needed new necklace to freshen. 🙂 No problem. Shoes didn’t work at all – didn’t work for five minutes in house – would never make a full evening. 🙁

An hour in the mall resulted in a success story. As long as you ignore the charges on the credit card.

Banquet ready
Banquet ready

 

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The Spruce Tree

ellenparkerwrites

My friend said it was gone the last time she drove past our former farm.

The news, even half-expected, saddened me. I considered it mine. Every visit to my home town included at least a drive past to check for it’s presence and general condition.

My parents purchased it. One spring day I arrived home from school to find they had brought home at least three trees to plant in our expanded yard. The green ash did not fare well. The white birch liked it’s place east of the house and thrives. In my mind it became mother’s tree.

The spruce became mine. I assisted with the planting, mother took a picture of the event, and it became part of my 4-H project that year. A few years later we started to decorate it with lights at Christmas. It didn’t take long for it to outgrown the number of lights we owned.

I moved off to college and beyond. My parents sold the farm and moved to town. Friends purchased the place and we’d visit. When my own children were young teens I posed them next to it and had difficulty getting both tree and boys whole – it was much taller than the two story house by then.

So it’s gone now. Relegated to memory, a few prints from film, and one digital photo.

The Spruce in Old Age
The Spruce in Old Age
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…Romance Author

ellenparkerwrites

What do you get when you put three men and a romance author in a van for eleven hours?

Between long stretches of silence, while non-driving men napped and familiar scenes passed by you get multiple, varied conversation. Sports, bands, church history and politics dominated during the morning. After two hundred miles I requested a stop. And while I got credit (?) for causing stops in later conversations they didn’t hesitate to comply.

It was over lunch in a BBQ and Oyster Bar in Mississippi that I revealed my second career/occupation. The talk had turned to taxes and I inquired about a reliable tax man/accountant. Of course they asked why. And I said I actually had a contract for my writing, romantic fiction.

“All romance is fiction.” That was the reply from the divorced man of the group.

I guess he doesn’t believe in “happily ever after”. That will not deter me. I’ll continue to be an optimist and let my characters find true love.

My conclusion. Three men and a romance author make for an interesting group on a trip. It helps if you have another common bond. In our case it was doing construction mission work.

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Following the Trail

ellenparkerwrites

Sound came first. Flowing water leaping and splashing. I walked a little faster along the gravel trail.

In a state park known for caves, I’m hiking the shortest, least demanding trail. A couple of minutes from the visitor’s center and trailhead lies a long, narrow, wide body of water. It’s the sort of thing that makes me wonder where the line is between pond and lake. The surface is quiet, disturbed only by the occasional ripple of an insect landing or a small fish grabbing one for a snack.

Half a dozen Canada geese float on the water, ignoring the humans hiking along the shore. I look for a turtle sunbathing but fail to find one. This is just their sort of lounge area.

The water calls in a constant chorus. It’s a small thing as waterfalls go, guided by a concrete passage between a smaller (definitely pond) body of water several feet higher than the main one I’ve been following.

Follow the sound
Follow the sound
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Glimpsing the Future???

ellenparkerwrites

Twice. Three years apart. The first time I passed it off as something I’d done during when starting vacation photos after the camera had rested for weeks. (Or was it months that time?)

The second time, less than a month ago, the electrons went all distracted between two photos taken mere minutes apart.

According to my vacation photos, I visited Shiloh National Military Park in May, 2206. When??? I don’t know about you — but this woman born mid-twentieth century doesn’t expect to be walking on earth in 2206.

Problem dealt with and camera brought back to the correct date after return from that trip. It was a lovely trip – sightseeing, reunion with friends, and new experiences.

During the recent visit of that out-of-town company, I visited a local college campus and photographed some of the statues of Native Americans scattered around the edges of a water feature. It wasn’t until the next day, after we’d taken the photos of each other at my house that I noticed anything wrong.

My, I looked good from my age. Let’s see. October 2037 is 24 years into the future? And I don’t look older than in a group photo taken in April 2013.

They’re back in the present now. Here’s hoping that the electrons will mind their manners and stay on the road, within the speed limit.

Check the date!
Check the date!