HooK LiNe and SinKer

Though I know spring is right around the corner, and I look forward to the rebirth of nature’s bounty and for some of you, the births of new little ones who’ll soon be pitter-pattering on your hearts can’t come soon enough…I just can’t help but bitch about this particular time change; and never more this year than any other.

I don’t know what it is.

It’s not the extra daylight surely.  Who doesn’t like the normalcy of waking up in the light and going to sleep when it’s dark?

It’s not the rain because I’ve never minded a good ol’ rainy day.  I love them actually.

Who wouldn’t, knowing this beauty below, from a year ago, is drinking it up so it can make another grand entrance?


That said though, It just feels, to me, that the spring daylight savings robs more of the day than it gives.

When I wake in the morning, it feels too late.

When I retire at night, it feels too early.

When I think about lunch, it’s too close to dinner.

When I think about dinner, it’s too soon after lunch.

Feeling this way, you’d think the fall time change would make me feel the opposite…

Up too early; to bed too late; starving by lunch; when the hell is dinner.


But no…I feel none of that.  And frankly, I don’t remember the spring change feeling this intense before either.

I keep asking myself “What the hell is it this year that makes me feel so irritable about it all?”

And then it hits me.  Or at least, I think it does.

Along with all I do look forward to in the spring, now, there are things I know I’ll never see or do or feel again.

At least, not in the same way.


I’ll never see the joy on his face when the ice has retreated enough for us to take poles in hand and put lines to water, hoping for enough perch for dinner or, at the very least, stories grand enough for everyone to swallow…

HooK Line and SinKer


We’ll never walk the rocky path through the woods, looking for that one spot that offers the perfect balance of flat rock and branch-free air, to sit and cast a line (not to mention a hearty tree trunk to hide behind for those necessary times).

Or a high, flat bank, on which to perch a chair to jerk a perch.


I’ll never feel the strong surety of his hands as he takes the ‘big’ one off my line because I jumped instead of jerked, so that fish swallowed it all…

HooK Line and SinKer


I’ll never see him begin another spring outing as the 5’7″ man he was, only to end the day coming in at a cool 5’11” from the mud cake that grew on the bottom of his shoes; we, full anticipation for the tall tales about big fish, that we willingly swallowed…

HooK Line and SinKer

caked mud

I know the memories of these times are what are important.

I know too, that when the fall arrives, there will be even more that will make me miss him even more.

The scores of memories of him saying “Let’s take this road, there’s a great barn you need to see!”

Those are the ones that will make me weep first and smile again…after a time.


Those times, though as forever behind me as they are in the rear-view above, will always be the happiest times we shared.

But I also know and will remember well, that when next the boys lower the boat to kiss the Clyde one misty morning, he will be there.

He’s probably there now…waiting…for the ice to break, the fish to come up for air, and us kids to show up with all we need, to keep the traditions going and the memories fresh.

He’ll be there.

And we’ll be there.

Ready to take it all…

HooK  Line  and  SinKer.

the clyde

Fair Weather Friends

I have a new guy in my life.


His name is Lenny and he visits me every day the sun shines.

He likes to laze around, sunning himself on the porch steps while I putter in my pots.

Pots, people…flower pots.

Yeah, he’s not much of a talker, but that’s fine.  If I want noise, I’ll listen to the voices in my head.

He’s a bit shy of strangers.  To be honest, he can be down right rude when my neighbors pop by to ooh and ahh over this spring’s bounty.

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He turns his back and wanders off without so much as a ‘howdy do or by your leave’.

I really should talk to him about that; he’s ruining my street cred. I’ve heard the whispers…

‘Why does Rhonda spend so much time with Lenny the Lug, he’s so rude!”

See what I mean?  Yeah, it’s time for a good chin wag with my fair weather friend.

The sun’s in and out today, so I’ll have to keep an eye out in case he shows up.

I’m running out of refreshment ideas though. (I wonder if that’s what keeps him coming back?  The num nums?)

Well, I suppose I can mosey on down to my mailbox, which seems to be THE spot where the local buggaboos hang out.

I’ll just have to find a way to entice that crowd onto my porch steps; introduce them to Len so he can have them over for dinner.

So, let me introduce you…

Friends…Lenny  Lenny…Friends

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Leapin’ Lizards…isn’t he cute?




she is the light, she is the warmth
when she wakes the world wakes with her

“yours is the light by which my spirit’s born…”

yet he must go for her to shine

he too is light, but he is cold
when he wakes, the world calms

“…yours is the darkness of my soul’s return”

yet she must go for him to thrive

but before this day can turn to night
she fills the white western sky with fire
as she battles the end of another day without him

from her western prison, she throws her sol-mate kisses on long-fingered shadows
and inflames him with the vision of her fiery tresses caught on the wind
teasing, assaulting, as they reach toward the Bastille in the east where he is captive


while the eastern sky shows no sign of struggle
still blue, he climbs unnoticed, in silence
desperate for a glimpse of her before the god’s
realize they are both awake


he tries desperately to grasp her love
now caught in the branches of the tress that separate them
he, struggling to cast off his gossamer shroud
so she may see the love he yearns to shine on her
so she may know his calming and cooling touch
as he longs to know her passion and feel her fire


she is gone now
he’d always known he would never feel her touch, nor she his
for as long as she was awake, he could not be
and she’d always known his power, his radiance, his true essence
could only thrive where she could not
and it would always be so…


or would it?

as it is had always been
this night too, it was his light that lived
yet he felt warm
he radiated warmth
he was not cold
he was not alone


for he knew her touch
and she knew his
through the power of love
the wonders of time and space
she lived when he lived
and they knew…each other

a rare evening
a lover’s evening
a curse lifted for but a moment
but a moment worth a lifetime

“…you are my sun, my moon, and my stars”

may it always be



My Shit Bucket’s Empty

Before I write today’s post…I invite you all to click on the newest link (you know, the one on the left sidebar,  yeah, right there at the top.  It’s well worth the visit to see the remarkable work of the Mum of one of our blogging buds…her work is stunning and to think, most of it done in her 50s and beyond.  As inspiring a story as is the work.  Enjoy…and thanks.

Which leads me today’s post…about inspiration.  I know right?  The title is kind of misleading but…

A friend told me today that she missed my ‘more-often’ posts.

Yeah, well, me too!

I’d been so busy scooping poop these last few months, I hadn’t realized they only thing inspiring me to write was shit!

So, her comment was timely in that I’d just read two blog posts talking about seeing the big picture, keeping your eyes on the prize, concentrating on the good, listening to your heart’s softly whispered ‘it’s all going to be ok’ when you’re mired in the daily shit that could otherwise keep your psyche locked in the outhouse.

To count your blessings instead of lamenting your woes and understand that life is bigger than the last busted bone or paddleless trek up shitcreek.  All true, though as we all know, it’s not easy.

More than possible, but not easy.

Now, I’m not one to call myself particularly optimistic (I have my reasons), I do engage in this battle daily…trying to see the bright side, seeking out the silver lining or at least trying to find the humor in all things, counting my blessings, stomping on the sneaky devil ankle-biters that are always trying to knock me on my ass and piss me off.  And while the war is ongoing…the battles are getting easier.  My reaction muscles are learning new tricks (and I’ve taken to wearing armored high-top boots!)

But to get back to it…when Jules made that comment today, it did get me wondering why, with my new-found pseudo-optimistic outlook, I haven’t been inspired to post something light or happy or springy.

That’s easy…and sad…

It’s pretty obvious I’d gotten into a routine of slinging the contents of those overfloweth buckets of poo I’d been collecting during those last few shit storms.  Namely…

“Areyajokin, Bulleffincrap, and Canyashootmenow”

For now though, it looks like storm season is over and it’s time to dump the shit where it’ll do some good.  Nothing so wrong in my new garden that a few buckets of good old-fashioned manure won’t fix.

So, time to get to emptying them and refilling them with something that smells a bit better, tastes divine, and looks a lot like happiness.

Never mind that it’s sleeting and snowing…my backyard’s full of flying flirts, the bulbs are busting and bearing up, the seedlings are starving, and I’ve got just the shit for them.

Welcome Spring…it’s time for you to eat!

And for you…at the top of my Things I’m Thankful For list…

I’m Happy because…
This is NOT my derrière
Though after the last few months…it could have been

But seriously…

Here’s to looking up, looking within, and looking out…to find your inspiration


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Spring Breaks? Yes. Yes it does.

Winter Intermission has concluded.


Time for me to get back to work.


Spring is in the air.




Here is the northeast, we have a saying…

It goes like this:




Prove it!

Spring is a word on a calendar here in the northeast.

Spring is a cock comb tease.

Spring is the day we jump from snow ass deep to mud up to our elbows.

Spring may have sprung and sprouted where you are, but it’s laughing all the way to the snow-bank here!

Click on the following…they’ll make you glad you live somewhere else!

spring tomorrow

Spring hits tomorrow…yeah, can ya dig it?

spring comes in

Ah yut…it sprung alright

spring first week

sure glad it’s spring
Am so glad winter is over
oh yeah
um hm
that’s right

As for me? Well, I’ll just wish you all a beautiful spring while I try to get the handle of this snow shovel up father winter’s a….oops!



(photos courtesy of WCAX TV)