Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
-- Macbeth, Act 5, Scene 5
Slim and Franke
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
WFW SARA'S WALK
It is a busy time as many of us prepare for Thanksgiving. If you have the opportunity, be sure and participate in WORDS FOR WEDNESDAY. Elephant's Child has provided the prompts for November. The words for today are:
river dashing interest free shrug naive and/or light wax winter bucket disillusioned super
Here is my contribution this week.
SARA'S WALK by Granny Annie
It had been a perfect day for a walk along the river bank. Lots of people were fishing. Quietly they cast out, slowly reeling the line back across the water.
A group of children appeared out of nowhere and were dashing around the serious sportsmen. The kids showed no interest in the activities. The fishermen strongly cautioned the kids to be quiet, insisting they were scaring the fish. One person added some free advice, “If you don't go you will be chopped up and fed to the fish”. The naïve children took note of the warning. All ran away. A few were angry and some were crying.
Sara's walk was coming to an end. She gave a shrug hating to end the freedom she always felt on these adventures. The light was fading. She knew they would soon have a waxing moon because it always followed a full moon which had been the night before. The smell of winter's approach was in the air.
Her bucket was almost full. Sara had been carefully gathering acorns on her walk. Acorns were known as the ultimate survivor food, packed with fats and nutrition. Every year Sara gathered them. She would boil out the bitter tannic acids and grind them into flour.
Sara was disillusioned in her hope to find rose hips. Not only do rose hips provide a pop of color in the winter landscape, they’re also full of sweet pulp that can be eaten raw or boiled down for syrup, jam or tea. She would have to wait a few weeks for those special treats.
Walking in cool silence Sara heard a rustling near the path. She halted in her tracks to see what furry critter might emerge from the brush. She peered with squinted eyes. Swiftly the group of children from earlier tore out of the bushes yelling and screaming. They wore superhero shirts, had painted faces and set on Sara with a vengeance. “We will chop you up and feed you to the fish.” they expressed with great emotion.
“It wasn't me!” Sara shouted. “I did not threaten you. It was the fishermen.”
The nuts tumbled and scattered around the path floor. There would be no acorn flour this year.