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Ring the Bell
Tuesday, March 30th, 2004 04:10 pm...the story is not only done, it's *gone*. Ghod, I love email submissions. Now we'll see if it's at all what was wanted, which it very well may not be. But in the meantime, I'm *free*!
Free to do the dishes! Free to set up the SRM Publisher accounts for next fiscal year, starting on April 1, what *were* we thinking? Free to do the year-end round-up on the 2003 accounts. Free to take delivery of _Crystal Soldier_ the Book That Will Not End. Let there be joy unconfined!
Or at least relief unconfined. Good *heavens* it was hard to write that story. My head still hurts from banging it against the screen.
******
Have I complained lately about the house across the street?
Where we live, out here in the supposed country, is on land that had been the apple orchard of the farm that still exists, in greatly reduced circumstances, at the end of the road. There are a couple of ancient apple trees on our couple acres, giving their yearly tithe of small apples to the deer, and a few more between us and the corner.
Across the street, though, had been a stand of newer apple trees, mixed in with an overgrowth of maple, birch, oak and pine. The whole road here is on the Wild Turkey Route, and they made an especial point to stop and have at the drop apples over there every winter.
That was, of course, before the house went in. It's a perfectly unexceptional house, by Maine standards -- in fact, a very popular sort of starter house. The bottom floor is a two-car garage and the family -- a young man, his wife, their son, an intermittant boy -- live over top. As their fortunes improve, they'll attach a two-story house, and the space above the garage will be rented out, or used as storage space.
Alas and alack, in order to accomplish this feat of modern carpentry, the young man in question cut down all the trees on the hill facing us (thereby ensuring that we now receive several *hours* more of sunlight during High Summer) and All!But!One! of the apple trees. It's been keeping lonely state for a couple years now in the middle of what will one day, I'm sure, be a long, sloping swath of green lawn.
Yesterday, the young homeowner began to take down the apple tree.
It's silly to grieve for a tree, I guess, but I wish -- I really, really wish -- he'd leave it there. For the turkeys, if nothing else.
******
Cat update: Mozart, on the bed; Scrabble on the blue chair in the living room, supervising Steve and taking a nap at the same time, thereby demonstrating her multitasking skills; Max! under the co-pilot's chair in Steve's office; Patia on the cat-couch in the kitchen.
Sharon
Free to do the dishes! Free to set up the SRM Publisher accounts for next fiscal year, starting on April 1, what *were* we thinking? Free to do the year-end round-up on the 2003 accounts. Free to take delivery of _Crystal Soldier_ the Book That Will Not End. Let there be joy unconfined!
Or at least relief unconfined. Good *heavens* it was hard to write that story. My head still hurts from banging it against the screen.
******
Have I complained lately about the house across the street?
Where we live, out here in the supposed country, is on land that had been the apple orchard of the farm that still exists, in greatly reduced circumstances, at the end of the road. There are a couple of ancient apple trees on our couple acres, giving their yearly tithe of small apples to the deer, and a few more between us and the corner.
Across the street, though, had been a stand of newer apple trees, mixed in with an overgrowth of maple, birch, oak and pine. The whole road here is on the Wild Turkey Route, and they made an especial point to stop and have at the drop apples over there every winter.
That was, of course, before the house went in. It's a perfectly unexceptional house, by Maine standards -- in fact, a very popular sort of starter house. The bottom floor is a two-car garage and the family -- a young man, his wife, their son, an intermittant boy -- live over top. As their fortunes improve, they'll attach a two-story house, and the space above the garage will be rented out, or used as storage space.
Alas and alack, in order to accomplish this feat of modern carpentry, the young man in question cut down all the trees on the hill facing us (thereby ensuring that we now receive several *hours* more of sunlight during High Summer) and All!But!One! of the apple trees. It's been keeping lonely state for a couple years now in the middle of what will one day, I'm sure, be a long, sloping swath of green lawn.
Yesterday, the young homeowner began to take down the apple tree.
It's silly to grieve for a tree, I guess, but I wish -- I really, really wish -- he'd leave it there. For the turkeys, if nothing else.
******
Cat update: Mozart, on the bed; Scrabble on the blue chair in the living room, supervising Steve and taking a nap at the same time, thereby demonstrating her multitasking skills; Max! under the co-pilot's chair in Steve's office; Patia on the cat-couch in the kitchen.
Sharon
