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July 22, 2015 I'm going to start today to record on a daily basis whatever happens to strike my fancy. So, it is a very cool breezy day. I just posted 5 short book reviews to The Monthly Reading Challenge. I'm suppose to put away some winter wood today from the woodpile outside but I'm playing hookey from work to write so starting this blog will get done. I'm having a daily fight with a flock of English Sparrows that are trying to take over my barn. They are making a terrible mess so they have to go. I have destroyed several nests so far they don't leave but they get out of the barn when I am around. I'm just starting the fight so I guess I don't know how far I have to go to discourage them. I'm trying not to spread myself to thin on WDC because I find so many things that are interesting here and I am trying to work on a new story. I really enjoy sitting at my desk with a cup of tea and reading blogs on WDC. |
Let this quote inspire a story: "The wind that makes music in November corn is in a hurry. The stalks hum, the loose husks whisk skyward in half-playing swirls, and the wind hurries on... A tree tries to argue, bare limbs waving, but there is no detaining the wind." — Aldo Leopold![Merit Badge in BCoF 2
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Congratulations on your virtual blogging adventure!](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/group-BCoF_2-1901868_14.gif) The winds put out a serious sound. Something never heard before across the lakes. The birds had become totally quiet. Not a sound from any wildlife was the warning that something special was up in the atmosphere. Black clouds growing in the west. Not just the cumulus heavy with rain that was normal for a stormy day. These clouds were truly black, solid, one moving mass of danger The massive, moving black form was pushing against air. A sound like the bundle of heavy metal blocks being rolled across a solid wooden floor. The deer herd turned and ran straight away from the sight and sound. Into the sheltering forest, deep into the trees and brush far and fast they ran. The gusting winds caught at them, now pressing against the brush and ripping at the foliage of trees. Then receding for a short time. Like a winded giant pausing to take a new breath and blow at the wooded land and running herd again. Finally, the small herd entered a particularly dense part of the wood. Nestled against every tree was a stand of heavy brush. Here the herd broke into twos and threes. Curled onto the ground at the base of mighty standing trees in the cover of the brush that was knitted into dense hidden resting places. The wind gusts tore at the forest, The rain beat so hard on the ground it flattened plants and uprooted small trees. When the raging atmospheric storm passed the deer emerged from their shelters and moved west to a field. Here the storm had left grasses flattened but still the herd was able to find forage and gain strength. After a time of grazing as darkness was falling they found another place of calm and bedded down to await the next rising of the sun. Another day was on its way. Another day to meet what ever earth would throw out at the ranging wildlife. |
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