My Dearest Julia

My Dearest Julia,

November 29th, 1858 was a cruel day. The first snows heralding a long and lonely winter danced across the landscape, unencumbered by patches of blue sky that dared to push through the gray. The landscape, while pastoral most of the year, was now colourless. Winters icy grip tightened on the fields; choking the life out of even the heartiest gourds. Abandonment.

The whiteness of December would bring the preparations of that most festive of celebrations; Christmas! But not this year. The very best of woods piled high for yuletide logs would be cut for a very different purpose this year. Oh, how I detest the drone of death prayers and lamentations. But this day shall see naught but sorrow. My begging of God, and subsequent cursing have brought me only sorrow. For Julia, my beloved Julia is no more.

To forsake my eternal soul, for just one loving last embrace would be a pittance. I am lost. Will time remember our great love? Or shall we fall; forgotten lovers in a forgotten world. It’s too much for one heart to bear. Forgive me darling Julia, but the pistol lies loaded and charged before me. Soon my love, we will be together once more. When I am gone and winters grasp gives way to green pastures, only memories will remain, and the broken dreams of lives once lived.


Julia’s gravestone and other haunting stories lay at Magpie Tales

A beautiful day

A beautiful day here! Blue skies and temperatures around 11C ( that’s around 50ish in Americanese ). The fall colours are breathtaking, but I will have to pull out the rake sooner or later. Preferably later. I came home from work, ( yes, I am an A type workaholic ) and rushed out to the garden. I slashed back everything! I was dressed for the weather, but suddenly realized that I was NOT dressed for the work! Got a tad sweaty, so I thought I would take a run to the wine store to find a naughty lil bottle of Merlot for some later scribblings in the sun. Well what do you know! I found some Rogue beer! Honestly! Well, I couldn’t resist. Oh,, I also bought a little bottle of the naughtiess Merlot you can buy.

People are out walking babies and dogs. Didn’t see many walking cats though. Go figure. Lots of overweight people in Spandex doing the “speedwalkies” thing. Spandex should be outlawed for anyone over the age of 21.

The back yard now looks kinda barren and forlorn. I may have been a tad zealous there. The squirrels have quizzical looks on their faces as though asking me, “ what the hell ya do man???” Screw them, they only drive Queen Daisy nuts! Did I mention our Daisy? A Maltese, all of maybe 5 pounds and the attitude of a Rottweiler. She rules Castle Rogue with an iron fist.

I have been marinating a pork roast in the fridge since this morning. I think Daisy can smell it. She constantly looks at the fridge with an orgasmic expression. I have the weirdest dog on the planet. I should get back to that Louise Penny novel I have been trying hard to read. Where does the time go? Ok, time to get the roast in. I cut all the herb garden back today, so no shortage of fresh herbs here. Toodles kids, see you all soon!

October

The river runs cold
on these autumnal morns,
majestic Maples
leaves stripped and torn;
bear witness to November,
the sleety scorn
winters icy dribble,
the carcass of the fuschia,
laid bare and forlorn.

Scarlet and gold
reign in the wood.
the world in hushed silence,
watch nature unfold;
as surely it should,
and while the forest folk forage,
Mother Natures’ brood,
the dens are prepared,
laden with pine cones and ferns,
all manner of food.

And into dreams
once again shall they dwell,
till the cruel winters winds,
have left hillside and dell,
and return them once more,
forever to dwell,
the cycle of life,
having drunk deep from the well.

Unto every season,
the poets say;
Unto every reason,
Unto every way.
Unto every new field,
Unto every new foray,
Unto every life,
Unto every day,
the only constant is, in fact, change.

My submission for Magpie Tales resting here

The Lantern, A Magpie Tale

Allison? Oh Allison, I’m so sorry. I remember my promise to keep myself safe. And I remember your promise to keep a light burning till I returned. Oh God Allison, what has become of us?

France was a dreadful place. I sat for days in mud and bloated bodies with not a thought but the flame that burned, and would herald my return home. I watched the vermin devour my fallen comrades with wild abandon, unable to move, as the shells fell and remembering my promise to stay safe. Hell on earth. Our only orders, “dig in”. Forgive me Allison. My thoughts were only of you and baby McCalister. The smell of blood and earth and sulphur smoke cloud my senses and dispose me in a sea of despair. Forgive me Allison. We were huddled in a mud filled hole. A blinding light, soundless.

And I find myself here, before your window. Oh God Allison, I will not return. Can you forgive me? I will love you always, but I will never be able to be your lover. Please tell McCalister about his father. In Him, I live. Can you hear me Allison? Allison? I see the glass and the brass, but my love, where is the flame?

Written for Magpie Tales #34 which is found here