I WANT ONE!

I have seen something like this before, if anyone can find more, send them my way! But this is Laurie Halse Anderson's writing cottage.
Yes, put this on my bucket list, please.

I Love Fall

I LOVE FALL!!

I LOVE FALL!! Did I mention that? Here is my measly harvest of various gourds.

I just love trees.
The sassafras turns early, it is one of my favorite trees, and has great colors.

Kip likes the fall too. :) His eyes turn colors!
Sunset behind the barn; I just like how this turned out.
Grr..... Annihilate those beans!
Brand plug! I just thought the rusty farm truck had character..
And I leave you with flowers and tires, because I love to think about nature thriving no matter what the environment is polluted with.. making dull things beautiful.

Frustrated and Morose

I've been rather morose, not really in a blogging mood. I have been restless with my life as well, thinking about choices and options. There's not much I want to say about it now, but I think change in in the air.

So you haven't missed much in the life of Me. I subbed two days down south of here, learned that there is an additional hoop to jump through to get back into subbing in this county, and quit my online tutoring job that was leaving me in the dust.

I've been working on a novel with a colleague, and also one with my aunt. I took a pic of the kids last Saturday who wanted to help my brother test drive a little four wheeler he was paid to fix.Don't worry, no injuries occurred, he drove slow enough.

Today is a birthday party for my nephew that I will get some pics from. Nana said "I want all the parents to have fun too." And I said, "Hey, if other people are there to watch my kids, I will."

I've been frustrated at having stayed home with them all summer, but especially these past weeks. Why? I just need to get away sometimes from the 24 hour job of being mommy and housewife.

Here's what I wrote about it...

Robbed of moisture, the flower droops.
Light petals once soft and pliable are now brittle and dry.
The bright color long faded to dark hues of its former glory.
Gravity pulls the weighty head down and tugs petals loose from the stem.
The flower is spent.
Dry crumbly flakes fall like tears, forgotten memories of days past.

Such a short existence,
fleeting beauty,
gone before its time,
plucked,
fragrant,
then spoiled.

What does the flower think of itself?
Is it proud to have given itself for a cause?
Or does it feel it’s life was wasted and cut short?

Gravity pulls the weighty head down and tugs petals loose from the stem.
The flower is spent.