Egg Run
Amanda and Wilbur’s house, viewed from our house.
Working outdoors in the middle of the summer was brutal. People said that in the heat of the day you could bake an egg on the hood of a car, and at about noon every day it felt like it was hot enough to do this. I never tried. As the afternoon wore on, the
Driving Tractor at Night Read More »
I have been working with a writing coach, Bridgette Shade, and she posted one of my farm stories to her website. Much of it is based on real events (like the storm and how we were raised) and some is fictional but reflects what some of the farmers were going through at the time. Hope
(Another poem from one of my first writing classes) Neurons firing are the crayons of life. I used to use a palette of blue and grey, then, I taught myself to use the variety pack.
(Not one of my better stories. But still taking classes and trying to learn.) ABUSED HANDS Dear Abby, Now that I am retired, this is my life. I wake up, open the box of oatmeal, make breakfast and hold the spoon as it goes to the mouth. Then, when I should be relaxing, picking up
This is a very early picture of our farmhouse, located about 14 miles north-northwest of Flagler, Colorado. I would put the date at 1949 or 1950. I think that the two boys in hats are my “big cousins” from Kansas, Carl and Howard Pickens, and the little guy in front is probably me. (I don’t
Gary and the Cousins Read More »
This is from one of the first classes I took while trying to learn to write. The writing is modeled from Lucille Clifton’s poem – Miss Rosie. Mom When I watch you Life no better than a machine Laboring, moving piles Of filthy clothes Or When I watch you Trapped, in a room With endless
When I decided I wanted to try and write in my retirement, this is one of the first stories I completed for a class on personal essays. “I done it’ “I done it.” Three words. To the educated, these words sound ignorant and are the cause of ridicule for the people who say them. But