Red

He wouldn’t have long to wait. He knew her schedule well. Every evening at eight-fifteen she walked into the woods with her picnic basket. Every evening at nine she walked out, licking her lips and her fingers. This evening, he would be the one to enjoy her goodies.

He waited patiently until he could see her cloak, a smear of red through the shadows and the trees. The scent that surrounded her was delicious and it pulled him from his hiding place.

She turned only her eyes toward him as she passed, offered a shy smile, and clutched her basket closer. Her hair fell in tangles, dark slashes against the vivid red cloak.

He breathed deeply, absorbing the delectable subtleties of her scent. His mouth watered. He stepped forward and gently placed his hand upon her crimson shoulder.

“Well, well. You must be Little Red Riding Hood.” His gaze traveled from her face to the large basket on her arm. So many luscious temptations in one night.

She laughed, a low, throaty sound, unexpected and unwelcome. Distressed, the crows above flapped away. Their calls echoed through the pines, and then there was silence.

“Little Red?" Again she laughed. "No.” She snarled and turned to him. Sharp fangs gleamed as she licked her lips.

“I’m the big bad wolf.”

A Fine Line

There is something comforting about lines of clothes drying on a fresh summer breeze. The neighbours chat to each other as they hang out their bed sheets and blouses like multi-coloured flags. Rows of fresh linens flutter along backyards as far as the eye can see; little rompers with fresh scrubbed knees pinned next to rough and worn work clothes. In this ordinary thing there is a charming sense of family, of community. It is familiar and wholesome and cheerful.

But I really didn’t need to know that the little old man down the street wears a G-string.

Fabulous Flashers

Yes, yes. I know what you were thinking, but I'm not talking about flashers of that sort. I was referring to the fabulous #fridayflash writers who share their tales each week.



Among the most fabulous of these is Karen Schindler whose blog,
Miscellaneous Yammering will have you at turns howling with laughter, sniffling at a love lost, or even blushing with the rush of love at its...hottest. I was quite thrilled to find out that Karen had not only placed me in one of her award spots, but gave my writing such a glowing review that I fear my head will never shrink back to normal size. I told her it made my morning, but in fact I believe she may have made my whole week at least. Karen's blog is one of my regular stops. If you haven't visited her already, please do so. And while you're there, read her random thoughts in the right hand column. It's where I go when I need a smile.

Karen's picks included Michael Solender, Rachel Blaskbirdsong and Marisa Birns. I feel honoured to be included with this amazing group of writers.

wrap up music plays

And now it is my turn to pass along the award. After careful deliberation and review, I have decided on these fabulous #fridayflashers:

Eric J. Krause: Eric's #fridayflash offering is always a treat, especially those who like a little spookiness to start the weekend. He's very, very good at taking the ordinary and turning it sideways, and his ghost stories are second to none. He also posts a writing prompt every week for anyone who needs a creative shot in the arm.

J. Dane Tyler: This is one blog that has quickly become a favourite of mine. Superbly written, engaging stories full of solid imagery and atmosphere. I have already listed one of J. Dane Tyler's stories under my "Something You Should Read" banner. His others are just as good. Don't miss his Great Gams serial.

Pamila Payne writes, I'm convinced, with a magical pen. The characters and mood she creates make me wonder if she, herself, has taken up residence at the Bella Vista and is simply writing what she sees. She writes of darkness and death with such style that it is hard to believe she is not experiencing these events first hand.

Alan W. Davidson always has something witty to say on his blog, and his #fridayflash offerings are told with the same easy grace. Sometimes funny, sometimes thought provoking, endlessly entertaining, and always the gentleman. He even looks good in a fez.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the creator of this award, and of #fridayflash, Jon Strother. He has created a wonderful thing: a community where we can share and appreciate the hard work that goes into every story under 1000 words (it is harder than it looks). He is always coming up with new ways to promote and rejuvenate #fridayflash. Thanks, Jon.

Duelling Travellers

Travelling alone can be a wonderful, life-affirming experience, but sharing new and exciting experiences with a travel partner can be an adventure in itself. Having another set of eyes and ideas can make even familiar destinations seem new and exciting. Of course travelling with another person can also be absolutely miserable if you don’t do your homework.

In my case, I knew all about my travel partner, and we assumed that everything would run along smoothly with the two of us enjoying a much needed get away to New York City. Although we did foresee some of the bumps in the road, there were potholes that come up along the way that had us stopping frequently to recheck our route. I started to wonder if maybe we weren’t the best travel companions after all. You’d think that eleven years of marriage would have given me some sort of clue.

Research and planning can help greatly when you are paired up with someone with different travel tastes and ideas. This was our first trip alone together since our honeymoon, although we did have numerous family vacations and trips to visit relatives. I knew our interests were vastly different. I enjoyed wandering through neighbourhoods, poking through little shops and museums, and taking in a show or two while my Darling Dearest couldn’t wait to scale the Empire State Building, visit the Statue of Liberty, and check out Times Square.

What to do?

This was the easy part, and compromise was the name of the game. We made a list of things we wanted to see and do, then did up a quick daily schedule. For a longer trip this may not have been necessary, but we were working with just a few days. Our plan of attack was to get up at first light and do the major touristy things first to avoid the crowds. We could then relax and enjoy the rest of the day the way I envisioned.



Things were great, right up until we actually walked out onto the street. Our hotel was just a few blocks from Times Square, so naturally Darling Dearest wanted to check that out as soon as we arrived. I very quickly realized that our difference in travelling style didn't end at our interests. My dear hubby, I found out, is terribly uncomfortable when he is out of his element. The busy streets of NYC were about as far out of his element as we could toss him. My approach of pretending to be a local didn't sit well with him at all.

We remedied this first bout of anxiousness by walking though a quiet neighbourhood near our hotel. It gave us a chance to relax and get used to the city before diving into the craziness. After the first evening he was much more relaxed and was jaywalking with the most daring of them.



The subway continued to be a sticky point. We took the underground every day, and got quite used to the stops and schedules, but on the few occasions when we hopped the wrong train, hubby's distress was clearly visible.

It bothered me that he was so stressed about each new experience or obstacle, and it bothered him that I wasn't concerned about things going wrong, or ending up in the wrong place. He thought I was being foolhardy and I thought he was being a worry wort.

We never really did come to a middle ground there, but we did manage to work around it and salvage the trip. It was a learning experience for us both, and on our next trip we were much better prepared to handle our differing travel styles and away-from-home personality clashes.

Some things we learned:

* Do your homework in advance. Knowing what each person expects from the trip saves a lot of time that might be spent arguing later.

* Take time each evening to go over the plan for the next day and make any necessary preparations or changes. Do the same thing in the morning.

* Rest. Cranky travellers are more likely to make each other miserable in the heat of the day, or when things don't go according to plan.

* Relax. Stuff happens. There are things that are beyond your control. Take it in stride and count it as part of the adventure.

I'm a Writing Mutt

What do you get when you cross Stephen King and James Joyce?

Me, apparently.

This handy little tool has been floating around writing circles for the past few days. Need an ego boost? Just copy and paste a bit of writing into the box and find out the identity of your writing style doppelgänger.

The first piece I tried gave me this result:

I write like
Stephen King

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Nice! I'll take that. Wouldn't mind making some of his money either. Just for curiosity's sake, I gave another go. Three out of five literary snips gave me the same result.

These days I am apparently channeling someone altogether different. My current WIPs gave me this result:

I write like
James Joyce

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

I won't flatter myself to think I write like either of these guys, but the slow plodding of my current work sure feels like Joyce is interfering.

Have some fun and see where your writing influences lie.

The Magic of Home

I spent a few days this week enjoying home. It's amazing what a few days of quiet can do for the thought process, get rid of all that noise and just let the good stuff seep in.



There were evenings spent trouting on the river, mornings of frog hunting, and afternoon walks along the coves. No trout were caught, and the frogs were gently placed back into the pond, as I do not have the talent or constitution for frog flinging like my good friend Jodi MacArthur.



My writing has been sporadic and plagued with speed bumps and rock slides, but a few days of home helped clear some of the mental debris. Maybe it's the quiet, maybe it's the salt air, but whatever it is, it's magic. I really should take advantage of it more often.

Dancing

It won't be long before I come back inside. It's too cold out there anyway.
Neither of us meant the things that were said, so let's just forget them for now.
Put on some music and turn it down low. I like the feeling of your arms around me.
I'll let you drag me around this old, scarred floor until we're back where we started.

Creative Process

In the dying hours of the day I sit, brooding about another story I can’t write.

I have abandoned my friends Johnny and Jack. Their smooth inspiration has left me bitter and wasted.

Words form no coherent thought; the end always comes before I begin. Eloquent truth is lost somewhere between thought and pen.

Everything I say is a lie.

I'll be the Judge of That

Let the drum rolls and fanfare begin! Alan Davidson has donned his tuxedo to make the great announcement - The winners of the Conversations from Land's Edge Holiday Contest. I won't spoil the surprise. Drop on over to Alan's blog for the announcement.

Alan asked me to help judge the entries based on style, content, and the number of Tim bits and coffee each contestant sent. It was quite exciting, for several reasons: I got out of the house for a night, the coffee was great, I read some fantastic stories, and I finally got to meet the man in the fez. I was a little disappointed that Alan wasn't wearing his fez to the meeting. It would have been very easy to spot him, although it was hard to mistake the dashing beard.

Also joining us at the judges table was Ellen O'Toole, who has been cautiously dipping her toes into the bloggy waters.

The judging started off smoothly enough. There were some insightful comments, some vague threats, and some of us resorted to tricks such as flattery. There was some glowering and some downright bullying, but after a few arm wrestling matches and nasty looks from the other coffee shop patrons we settled on three winners and a handful of honourable mentions.

I would like to thank Alan for asking me to help to judge the contest (and for the coffee). It was great fun. Thanks as well to everyone who entered the Holiday contest. It was a pleasure to read each story.

Remembrance

Canada Day is a day of celebration all across the country. The birthday of our nation. There will be barbecues, picnics, fireworks and red and white as far as the eye can see. It's the one day that we Canadians really let our patriotism out to play.

Here in Newfoundland, today is also a day of remembrance. This day marks the anniversary of the Battle of Beaumont-Hamel, a dark spot in the history of our province. On July 1st, 1916, 801 Newfoundland soldiers advanced down the exposed slope toward No Man's Land and were faced with heavy fire from the other side. The battle was over in less than half an hour. Only 68 men answered roll call the next day.

It was a magnificent display of trained and disciplined valour, and its assault only failed of success because dead men can advance no further. -Major-General Sir Beauvoir De Lisle referring to the Newfoundland Regiment at Beaumont-Hamel

I had the opportunity to visit the memorial at Beaumont-Hamel a few years ago. It was difficult to imagine the conditions that existed all those years ago. Although the trenches are still there, they are now covered with grass and trees. It's a beautiful, peaceful place, yet there is an uneasiness in the calm. It is staggering to walk the rows of graves and see extent of the loss on this one piece of land. We stopped at as many as we could, those with names and those without, and thought about those men buried so far from home.


Ninety-four long years have passed. Newfoundland has not forgotten.

* * *

This day is also a day of remembrance on a more personal level, a day to remember a beautiful, precocious little girl who loved bubbles and served delicious pretend tea. She passed away one year ago at the age of two. She is remembered today by everyone who had the pleasure of knowing her. Her momma drew this picture on my facebook page. Ladybugs have become a signature of sorts, a reminder of the joy that was knowing Amelia.