https://purpletoga.com/books/it-takes-a-village/
I am excited and thrilled to be included in this anthology collection of stories, essays, and one poem (written by yours truly) along with a short story I have written. Here is a link to preorder. The book is scheduled for release on Mother's Day.Meanwhile, enjoy the day.
A Walk Through Pilgrim
at Tinker Creek
My husband
and I read nightly or rather he reads to me from a book we have selected
together. Sometimes, it is a book he is wanting to read but is waiting to share
the experience with me. He is always spot on when it comes to knowing what
might please me. A Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is a book we had on the
bookshelf and not having anything else we started reading. My mind was taken on
a journey, I was familiar with some things I had experienced in my own
childhood and with the other experiences of the author, Annie Dillard, I had pause
to think. Since my husband and I have a great deal of education concerning
biology, both plants and animals, etc., it started out as an interesting read. But
it made me wonder am I where I should be? In my life, in the world, and the
universe. I had forgotten to look. I have just been traveling through the days.
When I was
younger, I was more introspective concerning my place in the world, but I did
not worry about the next minute, hour, or day. Instead, I would spend hours
with my belly hugging the ground watching ants go in and out of the mound, rest
on my back watching clouds move through the sky and go for long walks watching
everything I saw. I was complete.
Come to
think of it, I still do not worry. I have great faith something will happen and
it is all good though sometimes a bit rough about the edges. It is the edges
getting me down on occasion until I remind myself “This too will pass.” I still
possess a wonder about the world. From the various songs of the birds in the
morning to the baying and barking of dogs in the distance, I find myself
wanting to know what they are saying high in the treetops or low in the now
greening bushes. The dogs are of equal interest, are they alone in their home,
yard, or kennel? Is the animal waiting to be fed? Or sad because their person
had to leave them home? Then there is the silence. I like it. The peacefulness
of a deserted street early in the morning. I can hear the birds better, I can
notice the chill of the wind, and hear the beginning patter of the rain
falling.
I marveled
at Annie Dillard’s descriptions of what she saw around her. It is something, I
could not do as I lack the knowledge of the life of various animals and
insects, mostly, it is experience. I left the innocence of nature for college
and the busyness of being there. I left the river, the fields, the mountain,
and the hikes along the ridges. The elk across the river in their winter pasture,
the frost on the inside of my bedroom window and the icy, snowy trek to the
outhouse in the night. Instead, I was discovering a whole new world in which I
saw The Wizard of Oz for the first time in color when Dorothy reached
Oz. I found out I could be accepted without much attention placed on the tone
of my skin. Growing up indigenous in a small community was not without difficulties.
I survived.
Life is
survival. I am quite accepting of the heaven in my small circle of existence. I
am grateful when I wake up, after all I am still here and isn’t that the root
of it all? Being still here.
The Struggle is Real
I
have started writing again and finally sending some of what I do out into the
world for others to see. It is an ongoing struggle with distractions hounding
me, chasing me around, and being plagued by nap attacks. But what can you do? Finally,
I gave in to a title which I have no idea where the story is going, the
characters on the stage, and the reason for writing it. Is a mystery. No, not
the story though I suppose everything we write is a mystery one sentence after
another. I guess I need to keep plugging along until I can determine what I am
doing.
The
Body
As
murders go, it was not the worse. The body was cold, limbs a bit twisted as if
falling in motion as an attempt to get away. It would have been processed by
the locals, except for the fact a member of The Authority had been present. The
officer was on loan for a particular reason, what was considered a lack of
performance at the last incident. Called an incident because things were
lacking normalcy, feathers, everywhere. A lack of a body but lots of blood,
fluids scattered throughout a suite of five rooms. The Authority had been there
before anyone else could arrive and this particular officer had contaminated
the scene and neglected to wear booties. But the worse offence was a tissue
which had fallen out of the pocket of the officer, it was covered in his own
body fluids, snot from his nose, complete with a nose hair. Allergies will get
you all the time.
Agent
Accent of The Authority was not pleased.
She was currently investigating a quite puzzling case with overtones of
the abnormal. But what is one more puzzle? She examined her booties carefully
and pointily glared at the slightly trembling Authority officer on assignment
to a normal branch of duty. Another officer moved the tape baring entrance so
she could enter. Her eyes flickered over
the scene, the normal police, emergency workers had been removed and her own
team was in place including the disgraced Authority officer. Agent Accent
stifled a sigh, he was her problem now.
The
victim had been a woman with augmented body parts, not overly done but rather a
way to hide what would have had shown clearly, if you knew what you were
looking for. Agent Accent sniffled the
air but only smelt the tang of red blood, the emptying of bowels, and beneath
was a floral tone, hard to distinguish from the more potent scents. She walked
carefully about the body, noting the palm of the left hand turned outward as if
it was a final attempt at warding off what was coming. Agent Accent wanted to
close her eyes and look more deeply at what might be lingering, a ghost, a
glimmer, an essence but first, a look at what had triggered needing her
presence and the team from The Authority.
The trembling,
disgraced officer now assigned to this case came forward at her beckoning.
“Show me.” Agent Accent was referring to the starred marker on the floor and
next to wall nearing the front door. A discolored spot was on both. The young
officer licked his lips and lead her carefully to the possible evidence, a clue
perhaps to what might have done this. What, not who? The spots on both the floor and wall were
maybe body fluids from an unnoticed nick or cut on the perpetrator.
