Mainely Write

Can there be a better view of the snowstorm, than from inside a warm house with your grandson and daughter? I got to keep my grandson and his family here two days longer due to the snowstorm coming up the coast!  Yea!  Poem to follow....shortly.

And now for the Christmas tree decision...well, not a decision of mine...but a decision nonetheless (don't you love that word?  " nonetheless" ... a "triple-dog-dare-you" compound word)... My daughter and son-in-law surprised us with a tree while we were out.  It was all lit up when we came home.  It is a pretty tree and we will decorate it tonight. My son just bought his first house on Friday, and it came furnished.  He was working through items left behind and found some Christmas tree ornaments.   So we will use them on our tree.  How interesting will that be... to use someone else's memories on your tree? Our 16 month old grandson just used a fork, a real metal fork to eat his sweet potatoes. It's been a big week.  Sigh.  I'm loving this week. I think my wrapping is done.  Almost.  That is, I almost thought "my wrapping is done".  I was wrong.  I was almost right. I have to bake something. Isn't that tree pretty?

I don't know where this came from - some little dusty corner of my brain.  I don't know why it emerged today.  I wanted to write a Christmassy thing, but this is what happened instead.  Sorry if you were looking forward to something sentimental, sappy, soothing and sweet.  You get this instead... Umble Words... by me words with umble seem very humble speaking poorly, one might mumble carelessly built, a house will crumble stepping badly leads to a stumble which can easily mean a tumble a lack of humor makes one grumble a lack of food and tummies rumble unsteady hands will likely fumble and things will end up in a jumble is there any word with umble that doesn't mean we've made a bumble? ©Donna JT Smith, 2012 I know lots of people are on Blog Break.  I'll probably be off for a week, unless I see something that strikes a chord or a nerve, requiring my blogging attention (such as a runaway mitten).

When my son was born,  I made for him a Christmas stocking. When my daughter arrived,  a second stocking was made. And each year, on Christmas eve, the stockings were hung with care, and opened with delight  in the twinkling lights of Christmas morn. This Christmas there will be a new stocking, made with love by my daughter; a new mom's Christmas stocking for her son. It will be hung with care on Christmas eve, And there will be delight in the morning once again. © Donna JT Smith, 2012  And here is a link back to an earlier post about the things vs people in our lives , that reminds me of Anit a's post today on Learning to B e Writers . Cherish every moment this season!  Remember to tell them you love them.

Okay, I know I used these pictures before....but then this song came into my head to go with them.  Had to do them again.  Only one person saw this post, so here we go again. This is a double deja vu.  When you are ready...click on the Deja Vu Blogfest and see some oldies but goodies reposted for reconsideration! One more time, now...Everybody sing! Deck the hulls with lights so jolly! Fa la la la, la la lobster la! Even trim the traps, by golly! Fa la la la, la la lobster la! Don we now our boots and oilskins, Fa la la la, la la lobster la! While we sing of lobster boilin’s, Fa la la la la, la lobster la! See the rolling waves before us, Fa la la la, la la lobster la! They delight a New York tour bus, Fa la la la, la la lobster la! Bobbers, buoys and other treasures Fa la la la, la la lobster la! Memories of seaside pleasures Fa la la la, la la lobster la! Fast to sea the low tide rushes, Fa la la la

Motel Tree Short version: I just decorated my house for Christmas.  I went to the spare room closet and got out our tree and plugged it in.  My tree is 18" tall and artificial.  We stopped using a big tree the year of our house fire.  We bought this little tree for our motel room, our home for 11 months, as we celebrated Christmas there, and now it always reminds us to take delight in the little things.  Between our basement flooding the winter before, and the smoke damage, we lost most of our pictures and memorabilia.  Our little tree reminds us that we should take notice of the little things, appreciate them, remember everyTHING you have is replaceable, but that everyONE is not.  Merry Christmas to all.  God bless you at this time of year, and each and every day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Longer version, with a bit more background: A few years back, we had a house fire in our present home. The good thing was, no one was hurt.  We would have been killed that

Deck the hulls! Tree trimmings and trappings! Christmas in Maine... boats, traps and buoys have pretty much migrated inland for the winter months. It's time to decorate... the boats, the traps, the buoys.  Ah, the fresh smell of...hm...not evergreen...is seaweed an evergreen?  It must be!  Now that I think of it, it is green year round.  So, the fresh smell of evergreen.  Yup.  That's what it is all right. Oh, and these were just on lawns.  Check here on the Bangor Daily News for an article about the town displays.  Enjoy!

Lost Glove #2 On this pole I’ll stay To show you the way - You’ll get to the bay A mile that a’way. ©Donna JT Smith, 2012 Now head on over to Robyn Hood Black's place, where she is hosting Poetry Friday!

Hey, doesn't this look like a paper in a typewriter? Yesterday I started "The Book".  I wrote some more today.  I now have 1350 words (besides the almost 1500 I've written prior to this).  Maybe that isn't many words to a person who has written published books, but it is to me. I am slowly discovering my characters' characters.  As I write, they are revealing themselves.  Huh.  I'd heard others say that this happens.  I'd just never tried writing them into existence before. It reminds me of coloring when I was a child.  I imagined that as I colored, things would come to life or become real.  They were just waiting for someone to help them out.  So I colored and all sorts of things could finally be real - grass, sky, animals, trees. And now I am writing.  And as I write, people just come, and they are real because I wrote them.  Like a coloring page, they were always there, waiting.  But now I've written them into reality. I can't s

I almost didn't check the pockets.  My husband has a cold, so I didn't want to put my hand in his pocket to see if there was anything in there.  Fortunately I didn't have to.  The weight of the jeans was enough to tell me it wasn't just the normal load.  A shake of the jeans told me I didn't want whatever the contents were to make it into my stainless steel washer tub.  Unfortunately, it meant I HAD to put my hand in that pocket that has held a snotty, virus filled handkerchief. I carefully unloaded the jean's pocket to find 1 wheat leaf penny, 1 bullet, a scrunched up piece of packing tape, 5 screws, 4 washers, 4 wing nuts and an undefined piece of aluminum.  I washed my hands. How do they make it into the laundry room unnoticed?  But I've asked that many times over the past 40 years.  I always "almost don't check the pockets".  But in the end, I always do. And I almost always find the treasures before I wash them. A long time ago I s

First Lost Glove of 2012 Thank you, kind stranger, for posting this glove And lending a hand to reunite love. Hey, look over here! I'm up on this post. I know you'll be sad, 'Cause you love me the most. You've just walked away; Abandoned me, left. You know I am right; You'll soon be bereft. I'll wait right here While you go and shop; I'll keep on waving These fingers flip-flop. And when you come out I'll still be right here And we'll reunite Right, glovey, my dear? ©Donna JT Smith, December 4, 2012 Link to the F irst L ost G love of 2011 A link to a blog with my sentiments exactly...on gloves anyway.  

Today we could at last reveal who we were to the other writers in the WRiTE Club Challenge.  It was so great to be able to participate in that event.  Next year, YOU should try it, too, if you didn't this year! If I'd gone on to one more round, I had two options...the story below, or Part 3 that I posted last week. I think I would have gone with this one to change it up a bit. ************************************************* He strained to hear them.  His eyes were slits squinting in the direction of the sounds.  He at last spied them.  There was nothing between here and there.  Nothing but space.  And if it was done right, the gap would be quietly and quickly closed.  The opportunity for escape would be nonexistent.  He was a master -  deft, adept, agile, quick, deadly.  He’d been described in these terms by the survivors, though he’d always vanished before anyone could figure out who he really was. He quietly approached unobserved.  Totally oblivious of the danger they

And here's one more part  It could have been the last, the end, that's all.  But I have started part 4, and have thoughts about part 5.  I will not be posting those.  And after a few days I will be taking these parts down.  I can't have part of "The Book" up here.  It may be time to just work on it while I post "other stuff". Read these in order if you came here by chance.  Here are the links: Part 1 , Part 2 .  Let me know what you think.  Really.  Pretend you are an editor, or a reader (which shouldn't be too hard to do, given that you are reading this).  I will not be hurt so much that I can't recover, but I may be nudged just enough to become a better writer. ********************************* Ghost traps... That’s what they were now. Sitting there dead on the bottom of the ocean, cut from their lifelines.  The morning those yellow and white silent guards were freed from their watery posts above the traps, was the best morning ever

And here is my second entry, that gives a bit more of the story from yesterday's first entry .  I have one more part I was debating about entering if I got to the final round.  Maybe I'll post that, too.  Or maybe I should keep it for "The Book"! ********************************************** Biscuits were in the oven baking up golden as the evening sun.  I heard the familiar chugging as I set the supper table. “Men’ll be in any minute... Potatoes, cabbage, corned beef.  Biscuits almost ready... Butter. Salt.”   I rubbed my hands down my faded floury apron. The scrape of their boots trudging up the steps to the porch, the screen door slamming as they entered the mudroom and hung up gear - they were as comforting as any sounds I’d ever heard. Breathing came easier when I knew they were safely returned to shore. Silently, they went off to wash up; husband to the kitchen sink, grandson to the upstairs bath. “Coffee or tea, Cap?”  I asked, bending to get

I had two entries on DL Hammon's Cruising Altitude 2.0, WRiTE Club in the writing challenge over the past two months.  I made it pretty far.  Unfortunately, for me, but fortunately for others, I was out for this next round.  There are two good writings going up this week (TTh) to vote on. But now that it is done, and since it has been online already anyway....I'm posting my first 500 word story here now.  And tomorrow I'll post the next part of it (which is what I submitted for Bout 4).  Let me know what you think.  Could I expand this into a whole book?  I think I'm shaking.  Should I try to turn from teacher to writer in my retirement?  There's that shivery, shaky thing happening again. ************************************* I could see his jaws working, chewing on the toothpick. “Nerve a’ him.”  He spat in the water. Daylight was just spilling on the waves as we came into open waters.  There among the red of my grandfather’s buoys were yellow ones indi

I have been cleaning out junk and dusting spots that haven't known the unfiltered sun for their whole life in my home.  I have just a bit more to do. On Thursday, we are having the largest Thanksgiving group we've had in a long time...  19 people...maybe 20.   Children, grandchildren, brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, great grammie, friends...our two newest relatives will be there...Felix and Zeta.  Everyone ranging from 5 months to 85 years.  And we are going to have the best time ever!  A new coffee carafe arrived yesterday for our coffee maker.  Now we can make lots of coffee. I just bought extra flatwear so we have enough extra for company.  My son gets it when we are through using it.  He's buying his first house in a few weeks, so he needs more than two forks now! My daughter and her husband will be here late tomorrow, as far as I know.  They will be sleeping in the loft.  So they need a bed. The new mattress will be delivery by UPS any minute. On Friday t

Sharing the Sun Two friends, Happy friends Lying in the sun; Sharing in its warmth Till the day is done. Best friends, Warm friends Dozing in the glow Of a wood stove fire When the sun is low. Fuzzy friends, Forever friends Blanketed in fur; One gives a sigh, One returns a purr. Donna JT Smith

Gramps is a purchased puppet for our Junior Church programs.  We needed a donkey for Christmas.  And we needed two really.  One for the puppets to introduce the Christmas program and one for the program that is big enough for Mary to "wear" when traveling to Bethlehem. So here he is - Burrito, the transformer donkey.  He's really two pieces (cleverly concealing the two parts with his blanket.  The puppets can ride on him on Sunday to get the kids revved up for the next program. Then for the actual program there will be a wider blanket covering the front to back on one side and some fake "Mary legs" on the other side.  Mary will be able to stand in the middle, belly area, to walk down the church aisle with Joseph leading him.  I haven't finished the actual joining of the two parts and adding the shoulder straps to keep him up, but those are definitely the easiest parts. With no pattern and never having made one before, it was a challenge to cut and se

Speaking of voting... If you haven't been to DL Hammon's WRiTE Club yet, there's still time and plenty of good writing to read and vote on!  The first round consisted of 72 writing pieces of 500 words or less, 2 writers pitted against each other, until it was down to 36.  Then those 36 winners of the first bout were rematched down to 18.  The remaining 18 were allowed to edit their pieces if they cared to before the third bout. So this is a good place to jump in if you haven't before.  These pieces will be up until Sunday on three websites (to spread the traffic around).  After that the 9 winning writers (plus the entry that didn't make it, but got the most votes) will submit a new story for the next round. You can always go back and read the original entries if you care to. BUT - Before you vote, you must sign up on the Linky here or it won't count as a vote: Cruising Altitude 2.0 Then go on to the bouts and VOTE for the one that knocks your socks o

I hate when I wake up and need coffee.  But I need coffee.  Because I'm not really awake.  Got on the computer as soon as I physically got up.  Stared at it a while.  Realized it was Monday, so I clicked on the WRiTE Club button to vote on the next round of stories.  The cat yelled at me for not getting him food yet.  Now he's on the table right in back of my laptop screen, looking at me.  He's been rubbing on the stack of papers on the table and thinking about pushing them onto the floor.  That always gets my attention.  Sometimes I've rewarded him with food when he has done that.  Because he's persistent.  And he doesn't need coffee to be awake. I think I will stop staring at this computer, and start the coffee and feed the cat.  Or maybe feed the cat, then start the coffee.  That's probably safer, though it delays my coffee...I think I need to go with safer. I should set the coffee to come on automatically tomorrow morning, so I can vote at the poll

Welcome to Poetry Friday from Coastal Maine!  I'm so excited to be hosting my first Poetry Friday.  You may link directly below by clicking "Add Your Link".  You may comment in comments also, if you like, but I won't be putting up links from there.  Just click on the links to go to the poetry site and let them know you read their post! Did I mention that I'm excited?  Never tried this before.  This is up early, so if you need to post earlier than Friday...feel free! November October is gone and Summer's long past It's not yet December With winter's white cast It's plain old November No leaves and no snow Don't want it to stay Just want it to go. No sandals, no beach  The sun isn't bright; No snowmen, no boots The time isn't right. It's too cold for one, Too hot for the other; No wonder November Is so much a bother. I so wish November Could be more like spring And we could be happy With what it would bring.

I made a Tagxedo for our church's Sunday School program we are just finishing up...Puppets in Space... The puppets are traveling to other planets, and I put words from their travels in the Tagxedo. Then I decided to try out Zazzle, where they print those Tagxedos onto items for sale.  I had a mug printed for our pastor...and it came out beautifully! I drew the space ship to use as the Tagxedo image, but there are lots to choose from on Tagxedo, of course.  You should try it with a Tagxedo you like especially well.  It makes a wonderful keepsake/gift.  The mug ends up costing just under $20 when you get the colored inside.  If you choose no coloring inside, it costs less. I placed my order late on the 22nd and it arrived yesterday, the 30th, by UPS, very well packaged.  It is excellent quality and just beautiful! No, I do not own stock in Tagxedo or Zazzle.  I just love how it came out and think you should know!

Hurry, hurricane, Pass on quickly through; I'm sitting inside With nothing to do. The rain's in buckets, The wind is howling, The lights just flickered, The cat is scowling. When the morning comes There'll be branches to clear, Puddles to wade in, And stories to hear - Tales of the night spent With Hurricane Sandy, And how that hand bailer Came in pretty handy. ©2012, Donna JT Smith Hope everyone made it through the night okay.  Lot of power outages and flooding.  The full moon has made the tide pretty high. Surf was wild today. I guess in the light of day, I'll be able to see if I can get off the island.  The water's pretty high in places, so it floods over the road off...only one way in and one way out, unless you have a boat. I hope we don't have to move any trees before we can go somewhere either.  We only had our lights go on and off a few times during the day, so I'm thinking that trees may not be an issue in the morning.  We

Thanks for hosting Poetry Friday, Linda ! Sweet Days of October My favorite time Since I was a child Were the days of October Because they were wild. Colors once hidden Now spring to the fore The leaves begin talking And rustling for "more". More coolness of days, Less sun and more night, More acorns for squirrels, More chatter and flight; In the clearest blue skies The geese form a V Flapping their wings As southward they flee. Trees once soft edged Become sparse and thin Baring their arms just When coldness sets in. Tree fingers stretch out They shiver and creak, The wind howls and sighs As it brushes my cheek. But that only makes Days that much sweeter As here on the edge of Winter we teeter. Donna JT Smith © Oct. 26, 2012 Today is my birthday (the 26th)...I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of winter...and days are sweeter.

Orthopedic boots with fake buckles & fake fur. Big stitch gray and ivory hat and scarf. I warned them. This is the second time I've gone into Cabela's in Maine and seen perfect examples of what not to wear.  This time I took pictures. I'm wondering if the person who dresses the mannequins in Cabela's is from away and thinks this is the way we dress here, so our mannequins should reflect our actual style, or if he/she is making fun of the way we dress here.  Or perhaps they are trying to make us feel good about the way we dress and are encouraging us in our fashion attempts.  I'm not sure.  Because we do dress this way here.  It's just not the fashionable way to dress.  But we know it.  We just choose to ignore fashion, siding with function and comfort most of the time.  Given the need, we could dress up... for the most part, anyway. We choose to dress this way, but please, not our mannequins.  We like our mannequins well dress

Shades of Browns and grays Deflected by Reflections Where shades of Reds and oranges Flutter to the ground Now covering The unfluttering Deceived By unnatural Reflection. And here's the correct answer: Andromeda Jazmon Sibley "I would guess it's about birds knocking into windows that reflect the autumn leaves falling, and leaves falling on the fallen birds...? " Yup.  Now read it again, and see if you can see.... Okay, this one went through so, so, so many revisions.  Wish I'd done it in Google Doc's and kept the history, just so I could easily see its morphing.  I think this is the best I can do with it.  But really, wow.  I'm so strangely impressed with its development.  I guess, actually my bravery in cutting whole lines and groups of words...cutting way back from what I started with, to leave the essence (I hope.)  I don't know if it will make sense to anyone else in its simplest form.  Can you tell me what it is about? I re

Dog and Toad He was here A couple of days ago; The dog found him Galumphing along Slowly, Slowly enough to be caught, Carried in her mouth For a short while before Being dropped back into The soft cool of the grass And fallen leaves. I wiped her chin Where the toad had been. Gone is the toad Must be too cold Time for making A home down deep A place of rest and sleep Until spring arrives And warms him Back to alive And puts a jounce back In his bounce. ©Donna JT Smith, 2012

On our way to the beach at Friendship yesterday, we spotted a few people out walking their dogs. It was a beautiful afternoon for walking. There's a leash law in Maine, so when you walk your dog they have to be on a leash or under your voice command, and, of course, you need to bring little baggies with you, in case your dog drops little treats anywhere. So it was a bit of a surprise to round a hill and have this huge black lab meandering down the middle of the road and crossing in front of our car. We slowed down so as not to hit him, and then saw the owner, a woman, up ahead about 20 yards calling the dog, who was essentially ignoring her. So much for voice control, let alone leash. Often people from away come up here and think we don't have rules or laws. We're the wilderness, after all. It's amazing what we've seen people from away do that they wouldn't think to do at home. Anyway, that's another day. So we avoided her dog and went on down to the be

Yesterday was the 9 year mark for my mother's departure for Heaven.  She had surmised in her head that she would be leaving about the same time my father passed away two years prior.  She had her hair ready a few days before she died.  Her affairs were all in order.  She was ready to meet her Maker and see my dad.  Her passing was two years, a week and a day after my father's.  She was ready...not sure we were.  But this is for her.  It was supposed to be yesterday's blog.  I wasn't ready. Two years after his death you left With worldly reason We mourned the theft Bereft Throwing off Chain's heft Now deft Two soul mates Once cleft Again warp and weft Two years after He passed At last Heaven's Heavenly Enmeshed Flawlessly fleshed I like to think of it that way, not sure God does it that way though.  I guess I'll know later.

Today my husband woke up with a cough that started yesterday morning just before church.  In spite of that, we had a fun afternoon at my brother's and sister-in-law's house.  My sister came over and joined us for dinner.  Tim and I had run to the grocery store after church to pick up dessert.  We chose Cherry Chocolate Chip ice cream and strawberry cheesecake - without really thinking of the color scheme - ruby. So when my sister said, "Good colors for today," it struck me that they indeed were good colors for a ruby anniversary dessert! Then she brought out the presents.  Wow!  I didn't think we'd get presents!  But we did.  There was a basket of small presents wrapped in red tissue paper and a large red box with batteries stuck under red ribbons. We decided to open the basket presents first, trying to guess what each could be before opening them.  Well, the first was a bottle of barbecue sauce - red, of course.  The next was a can of beets - um, red

Tomorrow is our fortieth anniversary and we are taking a week of  vacation to travel around the state taking pictures and doing things we either haven't done before or going places we haven't gone before or doing and going to places we've experienced before and want to do again. Today we are taking the Maine Eastern train up to Rockland for the day. Never been on this train and always said we were going to do this someday!  Today is someday! We chose the Parlor Car though it was a bit more expensive. Quiet and roomy!

Today is the day my dad went to be with the Lord eleven years ago.  I miss him, but I can still see his twinkling eyes as he fashioned something out of nothing.  That was his life. Lessons from Baseball My father loved to play baseball, And on Sunday afternoons We would file out one and all Ditching paper with cartoons. We’d head off to our big backyard With a Wiffle ball and bat And even though he could not play, Along came George, our cat. The stately elm was our first base Apple trees would make two more The plum tree was the perfect spot For the youngest's on-base chore The plum tree spot was tucked away Behind grapevine home plate Where you could still be in the game But safely watch and wait. When we were very young and small We’d get to swing and swing He wouldn’t let us quit or stop Till the plastic bat would ring We always got a hit off Dad From tree to tree we’d run You might get tagged and make an out But the running made it fun. As we

She opens a book And turns its pages One by one And you Delight in each picture. But it was not always This way. In the beginning You twisted And turned And looked Around, You grabbed And chattered And laughed at the dog, While mom kept reading, Savoring each picture, Softly laughing, Turning pages One by one. Though you played,  You stayed on her lap, And the little By littles Captivated; The one By ones Enwrapped. Now  When mom reads You melt into her lap, Sinking into each word Your mother whispers, Savoring books One by one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ When I visited my daughter and son-in-law for our grandson's first birthday last week, we were treated to the vision of our birthday boy snuggled in his mom's lap listening to her read a book.  His attention was intense.  He studied every picture, though he was relaxed and leaning back on her in her lap.  She reads 2 books to him every night before he goes to

We've been out for a cooling drive in the air-conditioned car.  Getting out of the car, the warm, humid air hits me.  Pushing open the door to the house, there is very little temperature difference. The dog greets me saying she needs to go out and then maybe have a little bit more water. The cat is yelling something about the dog pushing past the chair barricade and eating all the cat food in his bowl and, that being said, I'd better do something about it, or else. The cat food is in the laundry room where I suddenly remember that load of clothes in the wash that have to be put in the dryer before they begin to sprout, OR having already missed the window of opportunity, either have to be washed again or taken outside and set free. Ah, they are still sweet smelling.  I grab more clothes and start another load of wash while they dry. With those chores done, I towel off, grab a half dozen ice cubes and throw them in a glass with water post haste, before I give in to the incl

Tickled pink Phlox last week. Well, yesterday they dug up around the house in Friendship to put in the new drainage, hook up the septic, take out the bulkhead and kill some flowers. We lost our lilac bush in the process.  We were going to try to save it, but it seemed too difficult.  We may try sticking it back in the ground, but for now I'm going to try not to mourn the loss of it.  It wasn't very large anyway. The forsythia got to be spared.  As the lawn was ripped up beside it, the poor, little, defenseless forsythia was probably shaking in it's roots...probably soiled itself...... but how would you know? Forsythia is to the left of the ditch in front of house. Flummoxed Phlox this week. I took cuttings of the old fashioned rosebush and brought them home in case that didn't survive the upheaval.  But when we got out there, it looked as if they had potted the rosebush and quite a few of the Phlox, so we may have saved some of the original flowers and p

Today's Poetry Friday is being hosted by Rena J. Traxel at On the Way to Somewhere .  Head on over and click on links to some other great poetry sites.  She is also hosting a contest that you may be interested in.  Have a wonderful day wherever you are! *********************** On Wednesday, I took a drive out to the area in which I grew up.  Many days over my ten years there were spent in front of Walter Reed's store waiting for the school bus.  I was able to stop and talk with the current owner of the property and reminisce some about growing up nearby.  The building won't be standing much longer it appears.  The front is being propped up now.  If you look closely you will see that the top is not a pitched roof, but one of those facades that goes straight up and has a step up kind of side.  It used to be a Gulf station with pumps out front.  But the inside is what I loved the most! Walter Reed's Gulf Station and General Store, Woolwich, Maine Walter Reed

I visited Laura Salas' 15 Words or Less Thursday , and wrote this bit to go with her posted picture.  Go there if you would like to read others, try it yourself or just see the picture. Monkey chased by T Fell into the mud, Mired, now history, Making crude in crud. ©Donna JT Smith

Found at the Kittery Trading Post * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Days  Of Summer, Like diamonds - Precious and few Guarded and hoarded, Luxurious and glorious, Bedazzling our lives; Priceless summer Days! * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ©2012, Donna JT Smith