A Tale

Little Callie Winslow was walking home from school today. She was all alone because her best friend, Bitsy who she usually walked with was home sick. Being the good friend she is, Callie had Bitsy’s books with her so she could catch up on her homework. Added to hers, her book bag was very heavy for such a little girl.

When Callie got to the path in the woods they took most days, she hesitated. Everyone always said don’t cut through there alone and Callie never had. No one she knew in her entire eight years of life ever had. It was a bright, sunny day, Indian summer and Callie was tired. She’d been going the long way around all week. But she and Bitsy had walked through the woods together since they’d started school and nothing ever happened. There was nothing scary in the woods so just this once Callie decided she would do it. Who would ever know?

Little Callie Winslow looked around to make sure no one was near. It would be just like the older boys to sneak up behind her and try to scare her if they saw her going into the woods alone. She saw no one so she stepped off the road and started up the path. A few steps into the woods the temperature dropped. Callie thought it had to be the shade since there were still a few leaves on the trees. That had to be why it seemed suddenly darker too.

There hadn’t been any breeze before but now the trees were chattering. Branches clicking, clacking, tapping as if in warning, telling Callie to turn back before it’s too late. Or were they marking her progress, her solitary state, her foolhardy venture? Callie looked to her left, to her right and saw nothing. Everyone was just being silly, telling her not to go into the woods alone. She walked a little further before the rustling started. She didn’t see anything but was sure it had to be the little creatures that always lived in the woods. Bunnies, squirrels, chipmunks, maybe even a skunk although it didn’t smell like a skunk was near.

She kept going. Off to the side there was movement, something scurrying in the underbrush. Callie thought long and hard and realized she and Bitsy had never seen any of the critters she pictured in her mind. Still, it had to be one of them. It just had to be. A crow cawed overhead. Those, she and Bitsy had seen. They’d even talked to one when it hadn’t flown away at their passing. The crow today was louder so Callie looked up and froze. There was more than one and they all seemed to be watching her. And they weren’t at the top of the trees. No, today they were lower, staring at her with their beady black eyes as they called out to each other.

It grew colder still and Callie began to be afraid. She hadn’t gone all that far so she decided maybe she better go back only when she turned around the path was gone. Everything had shifted. Nothing looked familiar. She tried to run the way she’d been going but stumbled. Things that way weren’t the same either. What was happening to the woods? The rustling was coming closer, closer and the crows, oh the crows were making such a ruckus. They were so loud she couldn’t hear the prayers that she’d begun to utter.

Little Callie Winslow went into the woods today and never came out. She was never seen again. And when Bitsy’s books, homework assignments tucked inside, were found at the beginning of the path, no one bothered to keep looking for her. She would not be found but she wasn’t forgotten. Oh no. As those before, when some foolish soul went missing the next generation told their children to remember, remember little Callie Winslow and do not go into the woods alone.

A Visitor

Giggle grin, let me come in
Tapping on your door oh so lightly, never more
I wear a sweet smile on my face so nothing looks out of place
Ah, there you are, no you didn’t hear a car
Broke down on the road, over by where the rooster crowed
Those on that farm weren’t there, came on here hoping you’d care
My dear man, thank you kindly, opening your door so blindly
Why yes, I’d love to use your phone, oops seems my friends have all flown
Please don’t go to any trouble, live on within your bubble
Moments pass as I sip from my glass
Waiting for you to be at ease before I do as I please
When the time is right my eyes turn dark as night
True nature comes forth as into the creature I am, I morph
Yes! Scream, scream louder! Hold still while I turn your innards to chowder
Smashing your skull, hey at least this night’s no longer dull
Crushing your head, in a minute you’re dead
Time now for me to go, more adventures await as you know
Fun to be had, so good to be bad

Warning - Nonsense Alert!

Apologizing in advance here. Nah, maybe not. I’m having fun so why should I? First, I woke up migraine free. Yay! Amazing how good lack of debilitating pain can make you feel. Plus it’s misting again and today that’s having a catnip effect on me. And then someone brought me homemade chocolate chip cookies. All after a friend of mine said something that made me smile the kind of smile that lasts all day.

I wasn’t doing all that bad until a grown man wanted to chat with me about his love of coloring. Coloring in coloring books, not drawing and creating his own art. He was very specific about that. Add on to that a bizarre little conversation about happy breakfast food that’s fun because it’s manipulatible muffins instead of massive ones, reportedly oralgasmic to boot, and my level of focus plummeted straight to zilch.

But, to be fair, I will tack on one tidbit of useful information. There is an ant species native to Central and South America that has developed the ability of asexual reproduction, eliminating the males from their colonies. Scientists fear that doing so will result in a less diverse gene pool which could eventually accumulate enough mutations to render them extinct. I, however, disagree. Any bunch of wily fems who are capable of morphing to divest themselves of the need for sperm are definitely going to do something to ensure their long-term survival. Reading the article I got the distinct impression that the scientists were male which could explain much.

Now if only the damn Phillies weren’t playing it would be a truly good day.

So Cool

As you may have noticed I’ve been writing a little poetry lately. Blame Cutter. He’s the one who told me I could and should. Anyway, I belong to the Wordmachinist site and they made me the featured poet this week. What an honor! If you haven’t stopped by there yet you should. There is awesome stuff for you to read.

Last night was the Wordmachinist’s Halloween show on Blog Talk Radio, complete with special effects. Take the time to click below and listen. You won’t be sorry. And you’ll get to hear something of mine too.

T'was...

... a misty morn in the month of May. Well, no. Actually it was a drizzly October afternoon. But didn’t the first sound better? All the rain-haters would be happier with the first. Personally, I prefer the second. Misty morns have a way of burning off and becoming bright, sunny days whereas drizzly afternoons can easily turn into dreary eves. I like them but you probably already know that.

Yep, I was standing in the street, oblivious to my surroundings, absorbing the droplet-laden air again today. One of these days I’ll probably get run over since I really don’t notice what’s going on around me once I start soaking up the day. Death by drizzle. Hmm, sounds kinda nice, doesn’t it? Much better than squashed by a school bus while stupidly standing in the street even though they’re the same thing.

You know, I really did have a point when I sat down to write this but it has somehow escaped me. Probably out flitting through the rain that’s falling again. Perhaps I’ll go chase it. You can join me if you promise not to get all practical and do something like put on your jacket and bring your umbrella. Rain is for shedding clothes not for adding them. Oh. You don’t know about that yet and no, that’s not what I started out to tell you. I’m sure of it.

I do believe its way past time for me to be going now. Coming?

My Great Grandparents

I was chatting with my great aunt over the weekend. Just the two of us which gave us the opportunity to talk for real. She’s amazing. Ninety-three and her mind is as sharp as ever. We discussed many things and wound up talking about her parents, my great grandparents.

Gramp was born in 1880 in Carlisle. Gram was born in New Kingston in 1881 and moved with her family to Carlisle in 1898. A week after arriving in town she became the church organist at Gramps church which is how they met. She continued to do that until the mid fifties when the church upgraded to a pipe organ.

They were married in 1904. My grandmother was born in 1909, my great aunt in 1916. I was thinking about that and it amazed me a little bit. For that day and age they were fairly old to be married. I have letters they wrote while they were courting. Back then the mail went twice a day and it wasn’t unusual for them to correspond with each possible post.

They both worked at the Bedford Shoe Company, a ten minute walk from their house. He started cutting leather when he was 12 and continued to do so until he retired at 65. Only he went back to help out after that so he never really quit working. She was a tongue setter, a process that can be completed in under ten minutes. I wonder how many shoes she assembled in her lifetime.

I wish I had a picture I could post. I didn’t know Gramps but I do remember Gram. She died at 88 when I was seven. I’ll never forget her sitting on the floor with me, coloring clouds that weren’t drawn as part of the coloring book. Hmm, perhaps that’s why I can’t seem to stay in the lines now.

Why Me?

I wandered off to the grocery store today, an activity that I’ve been less than enamored with of late. I went to the other store, not the one that’s still in the midst of rearranging every damn thing in it. I alternate based on which one I dislike the least on any given day.

Anyway, I was in the frozen food aisle, minding my own business, lost in my own little world as always when this man decides my life is incomplete without knowing his preference in frozen rice/vegetables. I admit it took me a second to realize that he was actually speaking to me. Yep, even looked around to see if there was someone behind me. There wasn’t. No one else anywhere close so he had to be sharing that tidbit of his life with me. I nodded and muttered something inane that seemed to satisfy him and off he went.

Outside, as I was stowing my stuff in my car an older man approached, pointed at the college playing field next to the parking lot and sighed. He then started in on his worries about the sport being played, women’s rugby. I’ve noticed them playing before and let me tell you, those girls are fierce! His primary concern, as I soon learned, was with the effects of the game on their breasts. Hmm. Okay. Perhaps he thought I cared because I also have breasts? I have no idea. I did tell him that they’re not girls to be messed with even though I do believe he was basically harmless.

What I don’t understand is why these people insist on talking to me. Do they think I’m nice or something? Trust me, I’m not. Well, I am at times but not in that way and always very selectively. I certainly am not what anyone would call friendly by any stretch of the imagination. I just don’t get it.

Circle Complete

I am the Keeper
Come to me now.

Tell me all there is to know.
Your secrets are safe with me.
Your dreams will not die under my watchful eye.
Your hopes will flourish, nourished tenderly.
Your memories will remain vivid,
Your heart, true.

Talk to me now
Let me absorb all that you are
Tucking you away for a rainy day
Then when the moment comes
When you are lost and less than yourself
Come back to me
So that I may talk to you.

And talk I will
Until you remember all that you shared with me
Until your dreams are reborn within you
Until you vibrate with hope
Until your secrets are once again yours
Until your heart is whole
Until you are full to overflowing with the you that you once were.

Yes, come to me now
For I am the Keeper.

The State of Things

A bit ago I rambled about the dire financial straits that Reading is in. Recently the first money saving pronouncement was made. It’s one that truly saddens me.

Reading has decided to withdraw support of the public library. This, along with funding cuts made by the state are causing all three branches along with the bookmobile to cease operation. The main library in the middle of downtown Reading is the only one that will remain.

This means 40% of total circulation will disappear. Programs such as ones that take books to senior high-rise apartment buildings have already vanished. Computer access for those who can’t afford them, those who go to the library to do job searches, will disappear. The ability for the remaining library staff to respond efficiently to the countywide inter-library loan system which has been circulating about 50,000 books a year, will be severely hindered. Branch closings mean a reduction in full time staff from 23 to 11 along with 5 part timers as well as hours cut for other part time employees.

Besides all that there’s the impact on people’s minds. The library being located downtown is a huge deterrent for some folks. It’s not in the best neighborhood and people simply won’t go there after dark. For now the main branch is still having Saturday hours, subject to change of course. A quick five minute drive to the branch will now become a planned outing for those who may be willing to venture into the city. Kids who used to stop in on their walk home from school won’t be able to in another few weeks. In my case, I will no longer be able to be impulsive and walk the block and a half to the branch as I used to do some evenings.

I do understand the economics of this decision but I just can’t help feeling it’s a very wrong choice.

TMI

I read a hunting magazine today. Stop laughing please. I really did. Why? Why not? Knowing new tidbits is always a good thing in my opinion.

I learned some very interesting stuff about whitetail deer that I bet you don’t know either. The information comes from the Southeast Deer Study Group which is really a national organization. This year’s conference was hosted by the Virginia Department of Game and Inland Fisheries and the Conservation Management Institute at Virginia Tech. One hundred thirty three deer scientists from all over the country attended and presented papers. Hmm, didn’t know there were specific deer scientists but thinking about it, there are plenty of worse things you could be doing.

So here’s what the magazine folks who attended decided were the most important bits of this shindig to share. Thirty years ago, the primary reason listed for hunting at 43% was meat. Today that has dropped to 6%. That one, I have a problem with. If you’re not going to eat it, then don’t kill it.

Urbanization is causing acres available for hunting to decrease and also messing with the area in which deer populations roam. We needed a study for that? There are sanctioned organizations that organize hunts in city parks to help contain overpopulation. Most of these are bow hunts and are growing in popularity. Good for them but only if the harvest is then used for food. The percentage of women hunter is on the rise while the number of males involved is decreasing. Nothing wrong that.

A large number of bucks apparently suffer from intracranial abscessation, bacteria infecting the lining of the brain. The theory is that it enters the body through wounds on antlers. A recent observance had 35 % of kills in a region in Maryland being infected as opposed to 0 in an area in Texas. Nope, no explanation given, no information on how the bacterium affects the deer, nor what the significance of all this might be other than the implication that it’s better to have a healthy population. Kinda true for everything, isn’t it?

As to buck movement patterns in rut season correlating with age, antler size and body condition, there were none. I wonder why not. I would have thought it made a difference. Does tracked wandered out of their home range during rut even though mature males were available for mating purposes. Um, not touching that one but I’m sure you can guess some of what I’m thinking.

And last but not least, the removal versus non-removal of coyotes had an impact on doe-to-fawn ratios. Ya think? If I’ve left you thirsting for more, take heart. The deer biologists meet again in February, February 29 in San Antonio, TX for those of you who wish to attend.