The Scent of Lemon – A Journal Entry

Aguateca is a Maya site located in northern Guatemala’s Petexbatun Basin, in the department of Petén. The first settlements at Aguateca date to the Late Preclassic period (300 BC – AD 350).

It’s so dry here this winter.  I’m polishing furniture and wooden masks and bowls and mantles with lemon oil.  Everything smells so fresh and clean.  In the process I’m remembering old friendships…

I pick up a bowl a girlfriend painted for me years ago.  A small wooden bowl.  She painted it a twilight blue and a scene of a lake with egrets and a full moon.  Along the edge she painted the inscription:

The moon and the year travel and pass away
also the day
also the wind.
Also the flesh passes away
to the place of its quietness.




The Reality of Pirates

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge. This week’s photo prompt is provided by BarbCT/Gallimaufry.  Please follow little froggie for more stories.

Here is the photograph and a memory:

The Reality of Pirates

When I first saw this photograph, I thought about living 50 years in New Orleans – right on the Mississippi River. I thought of what an honorable profession it is to be a tug boat pilot. I thought of all sorts of stories I could write but…

Nothing held a candle to reality.  Being a Girl Scout during the turbulent 1960’s. Pitching our pup tents and sitting around the campfire singing:

This is a great rendition of that song, and thanks PJ and BarbCT for bringing back this memory.

Stuff like this, ya know?….lead me to me.


Sweet Elise – Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.  So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.   This week’s photo prompt is provided by The Magicsticgoldenrose. Thank you for our photo prompt!

Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Here is the photograph and my story:

Sweet Elise

Remember when she passed for white? Not that she knew it. Of course she didn’t know it. But then it started passing around her Ivy League sorority…  The Homecoming Queen had something to hide.

The Homecoming game was, as anticipated, won by the home team. As their Queen, after the game, she threw pink and red and white rose petals onto the field. She was lovely. So beautiful and regal. A prize for any man who’d claim her. Until…

Later…  “Move away, now! Move away!” ordered the campus police. They were waiting for  local enforcements to arrive.

She’d remained untouched since her body had been found in her dorm room. Gold safety pins, holding good bye notes, were attached to her homecoming gown. One in particular came to muddy the day:

“So much more I wanted for thee and me, love…Sweet Elise.”



My computer crashed.  I’m just up and running again day before yesterday.  I think it was a good thing not to rush out to buy a new one.  Since I don’t have a television and semi-boycott our local newspapers and get my news via several internet sources,  I missed the daily T-uck news.  Lovely to be back and running in time for next week’s episodes.

Then, just now, I saw this cartoon –


(created by Cynthia Sousa (@theamat) and Sam Machado (@samscenarist) and originally published on Cartoon Movement.)


Those Old Nomadic Ways – Flash Fiction

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Happy Thanksgiving to all who celebrate the day!

Oh my goodness!  I want to try this again.  So it’s a story born from a poem I wrote a while back.   What I’m attempting these days.   Story is first and poem follows.

Here is the picture and my submission for this week:

Those Old Nomadic Ways

The Story:

She spread a deck of tarot cards on the table.  Our eyes met.  I was but a traveler attending a week-end concert.  She was but a link to something unknown to me.  I met her gaze and watched her lay down the cards of my life.

Boats on the river passed by.  From one there sounded a calliope whispering the past to me.

I was a lost soul.  She drew me in.  She touched me.  The sun set golden.  Images of hope appeared.

End of story

The Poem:

A tiny camper
rushing by on the freeway
passed other cars
and realities

put me in that camper
on some sparse land
surrounded by silence
and blue skies

searching for anchors
and reasons
to come


My Blue Kitchen – Prose & A Short Poem

Ever since May, I am driving my best friend to her breast cancer treatments  Last week, we started the every day radiation – and hopefully last – part of her treatment.

I view life in a different way these days. My friend really needs my care. She needs this time to be all about her and helping her keep going with her treatments and to encourage her. And I intend to stand by and be there for her.  Her life is teaching me so much about my own.  And she says mine is teaching her.

On the other hand Ive been examining my own life. I don’t have children and live far from my family of origin. There has never been anyone in my life who has really needed my care before. Nonetheless, I have taken good care of those, close to me in my life, more – I believe – than was necessary or healthy for anyone. It’s become tiring, actually. And I have decided not to do that any longer.

I don’t know how I will carry out this or exactly what I want to accomplish in order to put myself first. I just know that something will be accomplished. My friend has another month of radiation. That gives me four weeks to feel my way through this. I, along with many others, wasn’t raised to take care of myself. I’ve heard about the concept and embrace it…living it will change my life.

There are such fragile balances to work out in life. I don’t doubt I can work them out, I just hate chaos.

If you’re still here,  here’s a poem I wrote about this:

My Blue Kitchen

We morph into something
someone unknown to us
and no one notices
until we are caught in the kitchen


Those Days I Go Crazy

Those Days I Go Crazy    (maybe a poem title, too)

Tomorrow is my self-proclaimed donut Monday! Have I ever said how much I love donuts? And that I have limited myself to one a month for over 30 years? Or that I tired of cronuts after having two? Or, just tonight…

Me: Oh! Tomorrow is donut day   (add a clap here)

You: What kind do you want?

Me: I’m not sure. I’ve read there is a new donut craze nowadays.   Do they have ‘new item’ signs at the donut store?

You: No

Me: Hmmm…ya never know, it could be healthier.

You: The only way it could be less healthy  is if they added arsenic.

Me: Hmmm…so what kind are you getting?

You: I like the fried apple fritters.

Me: Hmmm… (silent giggle)


Nirvana – Poem For A Fiction Challenge

Time again for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers So grateful to PJ for hosting this weekly challenge.  Please follow little froggy for more stories.

Some little voice tells me that I probably would do best not to post this but…I’m listening to Janis Joplin on the stereo and taking chances while I still can.

Here is the photo and my entry:


It’s other lives
others’  lives
or another life
that gets in the way
until you’ve been
for just the briefest moment
in that ever-loving place
you’ve reached for
all your life
from a particularly
slanted point of view
this moment may not mean much
except to you
it does
at last.


This week’s photo prompt is provided by Joy Pixley. Thank you Joy!

A Non-Moment In Time – Poem and Prose

I’m back.  I never know which to do first – read and comment on posts, or respond to comments on my posts, or just make a new post.

I’ll respond to comments and make a new post because life just keeps happening.  And then I’ll read some posts and stories from my WP community.

A Non-Moment In Time

Some things aren’t worth waiting for
like thunderstorms in a desert
or even recess
or apologies
the ability to feel.