wordsfromanneli

Thoughts, ideas, photos, and stories.


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How Orion’s Gift Came to Be

While camping in Mexico’s Baja Peninsula, I noticed a woman sitting alone in a van parked near the beach. I never saw her get out of her vehicle.  For several days, she sat in the driver’s seat most of the time, listening to audio tapes and chain smoking cigarettes.

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The beach was beautiful, the sun shone every day, the water was clear and inviting, the place was a paradise. Why would she not get out and inhale that fresh air, go for a walk or a swim, or enjoy this little bit of heaven? I certainly did.

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It puzzled me and I wondered what her story was. Her plates said San Diego. I mulled over many scenarios. Why was she alone? Why did she never get out of her van? Was she trying to kill herself with her own first and secondhand smoke in the enclosed vehicle?

The seeds  of a novel were germinating in my head. A California girl comes to Baja alone. But why? I would make her health-minded, young, and beautiful. Yes, Sylvia was taking shape in my head.

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She would need to find a love interest, but who would be down here on his own and why? Men come to Baja alone, looking for … something ….

Each of the characters had good reasons for being on the run, but would that interfere with them starting a new relationship? What if the attraction were so strong, they couldn’t resist?

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But what if their past troubles are coming after them? Will the new lovers stick together? Will they panic, split, and run to escape their pursuers? And what about that drug runner looking for revenge for a slight on the road?

sunset at La Perla

Life could be so perfect, if only those nasty people from their past weren’t coming after them.

For a gripping story of love and suspense wrapped up in a Baja adventure, why not download Orion’s Gift from amazon.com or smashwords.com today?

Cover design for Orion’s Gift is by Anita B. Carroll. Thank you, Anita for a great cover image. You can contact Anita at anita@race-point.com

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50 Comments

Nervous Water Fun

I’m a tourist, and I play,

Just a fool on holiday,

Yes, I saw the crododiles,

On the beach, back several miles.

Goodness gracious, says the fish,

Lady thinks she’s such a dish,

Well, she could be, for a croc,

Hope she doesn’t get a shock.

Don’t go scaring her too much,

Obviously out of touch,

She’s more worried ’bout the shark,

That is lurking in the dark.

 

It’s a quiet day, you know,

No need to alarm her so,

Did you see her splash in fear,

When that seaweed strand came near?

 

Where she came from there’s no sun,

And she has no swimming fun,

Not this early in the season,

She’s just nervous for no reason.

 

Don’t you kid yourself on that,

I attack in seconds flat,

But I’d rather wait ’til night,

Then I’ll take a hefty bite.

 

Hee, hee, hee! Hee, hee, hee!

Guess what is inside of me,

Best be careful in the sea,

And don’t snorkel near to me.

That was such a tasty snack,

Sun feels good upon my back,

I’ll be lazy for a while,

Says the grinning crocodile.


43 Comments

Solstice Solace

Hi Folks,

My name is Vera. I’m a varied thrush. You may think I look a lot like Roberta the robin. She’s my cousin.

Here’s Roberta the robin this spring, looking a bit ruffled up against the wind.

Roberta came down from the hills with her friends and family last week and so did all my varied thrush friends. We’d been in the conifers in the hills, picking at berries and bugs, but then the snow came and covered all our food.

So we huddled in the woods until the worst of the weather blew over and then found out where Roberta had gone. Well, we all congregated at Anneli’s house and at some of her neighbours’ too. The bare patches of dirt had bugs and worms we could pick at, and the houses along this road had a lot of mountain ash trees growing, so we ate some of those red berries they grow.

It feels like snow will fall again,

Although we birds prefer the rain,

I’m eating berries from the trees,

Though some are icy from the freeze.

 

When bare spots popped up through the snow,

My friends and I knew where to go,

We found some tiny bugs to eat,

The little spider was a treat.

 

The yard across the street has shrubs,

We hide in bushes eating grubs,

When rays of sun warm up the lawn,

A worm that peeks out will be gone.

 

The mountain ash’s berries fall

The sun ferments them one and all,

My cousin ate more than a few,

And then into a window flew.

 

Yes, life is hard these winter days,

But it is just a passing phase,

With winter solstice we will find,

That happy days aren’t far behind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


31 Comments

Mum’s the Word

Imagine these flowers as the size of a potted chrysanthemum that a friend brought me as a hostess gift about a year ago; maybe a five-inch potted plant.

The potted plant looked so pretty and I thought what a shame that the flowers would soon die and that would be the end of it. But later when the blooms wilted, I put the pot outside and cut back the dead flowers. Out on the deck, I kept the worst of the frost off the plant all winter.

In the spring it got new green growth and wanted to be a tall plant. I should have cut it back, but didn’t, so it got a bit leggy.

But look how it bloomed in spite of me!  Next spring I’ll try to keep it pruned better and who knows, I might get even more flowers – if that is even possible.

Anyway, it’s a beautiful way to remember a friend. I smile whenever I look at this mum.

If you should want to please a chum,

Just give them a chrysanthemum,

These yellow blooms are like the sun,

They tend to cheer up everyone.

 

A hostess gift that stayed alive

And has a strong will to survive,

It blooms for such a long, long while,

Eliciting a frequent smile.

 

 

 


42 Comments

The Calm

… before the storm.

The ducks all facing outward

Are waiting for their snack,

They find it in the shallows,

It makes their lips go smack.

 

The heron facing inward,

Has patience yet to spare,

He hopes to spear a morsel,

With no intent to share.

 

All take advantage of the last,

Relaxing stretch of peace,

They feel the system moving fast,

Soon comes the ugly beast.

 

Photo by Pat G.

The licorice scent of fennel wafts,

Along the last warm breeze,

A thousand seeds fly in the drafts,

To inundate with ease.

Ms. Barbara Beacham’s hollyhock,

Has found a home with me,

Although Ms. Beacham’s sent a shock,

And could no longer be.

 

Her lovely flowers bloom each year,

She sends her love that way,

I cherish her with thoughts so dear,

Much more than I can say.

A last sweet effort quickly made,

The berry patch is done,

No strawberries are left to raid,

Except for just this one.

And here it comes, the mighty beast,

So dark, this sunshine thief,

It brings much-needed rain at least,

To every plant’s relief.

It slaps the trees ferociously,

It whips the leaves around,

But they hang on tenaciously,

On hearing such a sound.

The wind is shivery at best,

Each leaf is hanging on,

They’re hoping to survive the test,

Until this breeze is gone.


36 Comments

Stop Picking on Me!

“Hey! Squirrel! What’re you lookin’ at?”

“Wow! Does it hurt? You know … where the feathers are missing on top of your head.”

“Nah … Gets a little cool and wet when it’s rainy, and I got a sunburn the other day, but otherwise, it just lets air get to my head.”

“So does that mean you’re an airhead?”

“Course not! And stop picking on me.”

“Looks like someone else was picking on you. What happened?”

“I don’t know for sure, but some big bird dive bombed me when I was so focused on getting the bugs out of a tree and I forgot to look up every few seconds. See the holes where he tried to grab me?”

“Yeah! That’s amazing. What are you going to do about it? About the hair loss, I mean. I’ve heard Rogaine is supposed to work.”

“It’ll grow back soon enough on its own. I figure if I stay up higher than anyone else and keep my head up, no one can see the damage to my helmet. That way I can keep the incident under my hat.”

“Good luck with that. I can see the bald spot from here.

And you know I’m a chatterbox … but I’ll try to be nice. No promises though.”


38 Comments

The Takeover

Whoah! Will ya look at that? Who knew all those poppy seeds would take over the garden?

 

 

When the garden’s full of weeds,

We give thanks for poppy seeds,

Once they grow they cover up

Every weed that’s coming up.

 

But the rain has flattened them,

Looks like someone sat on them,

Soon the flowers have to go,

Or the veggies just can’t grow.


35 Comments

Two Left Feet

Once again, I was inspired by a post by David Kanigan https://davidkanigan.com/2022/06/28/walking-bring-out-your-dead/ when he wrote about feet and balance. It reminded me that about 8 years ago I had done a post about two left feet. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to re-post it just for a little chuckle. My apologies for followers from that time who have already seen this.

Chapter One

It’s easy to laugh at someone else when they do something silly, forgetful, or just plain stupid. I don’t think there’s any harm in it as long as the “someone” is laughing too. Then you’re laughing “with” them rather than “at” them.

On a weekend fishing trip one summer, the Captain and I had fished for trout on the lake and stopped to stretch our legs on a gravelly beach at the mouth of a creek that fed into the lake.

IMGP0664After a while, a fish jumped and made quite a big splash at the mouth of the creek. The Captain grabbed his flyrod and cast towards the ripples the fish had left.

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The fish was a tease, jumping repeatedly, just out of reach. No problem, high gumboots meant the Captain could wade into the water and get closer.

But not quite close enough. The Captain is a good flyline caster but still, the fly landed just a little bit short each time.

“Aw…darn,” he said. “My boot has a leak. Oh well, might as well go in a bit farther. I’m already wet. I think I can get close enough. Darn it all! Should’ve brought my waders.”

Wading outfit

Persistence paid off, and the fish was hooked and released. Now for a well-deserved rest on the gravel bed. The rocks warmed the fisherman with the wet pants and sopping wet feet.

As he lay down on the gravel to soak up some warmth, I took his photo and noticed….

Two left feet up close

Not only was there a split in the bottom of one boot — the cause of the leak — but the boots were for two left feet. Somewhere at home in the garage were boots for two right feet.

Chapter Two

This may seem to be a whole other topic, but I assure you the chapters are related.

I have troublesome feet, so I wear orthotic inserts. I also have had trouble finding comfortable shoes, so when I discovered some Brooks runners that fit my feet comfortably, I bought them and wore them happily nearly every day. At last they started to look slightly worn. I went back to the same store and bought exactly the same thing again. Well, they were ever so slightly different in colour, but basically the same shoe. One would be my good pair and the other the “beater” pair. See the “beaters” below.

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For now, until I would get a second pair of orthotic inserts, I put my orthotics into the shoes I wore most often (the beater pair). Last summer I bought a pair of Costco Dr. Scholl inserts as spares for the time being and put them in my new runners.

The other day I put on my shoes to go out. The left one was a bit tight, so I loosened the laces. That was better. I was going to loosen the right shoelace as well, but then I realized that, although it was snugly laced, it was comfortable as it was.

“Hmm…I wonder why that is.” My right foot should be bigger if anything, and a tighter squeeze, so why is that shoe more comfortable?” I put my weight on one shoe and  then the other. Definitely, the right shoe felt better on my feet. I had a closer look. You can take a look too. Do you see what I see?

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When I discovered what I was wearing, I went looking for my other pair of runners. In the garage was a pair of Brooks, as mismatched as the ones on my feet, but my mumbled “OMG” got louder when I discovered that the “odd couple” in the garage had the Costco Dr. Scholl’s inserts in them. Remember, I had bought these inserts months ago, so if there was one Dr. Scholl’s in each of these shoes, they must have been like this since last summer.

Gradually a growing horror dawned on me. I had been wearing mismatched shoes since last summer and this was now almost December. I thought of all the places I had been and the homes where I visited and took my shoes off at the door. I had even been to the doctor to get a referral for new orthotics!  “OMG! OMG! OMG!”

It must be my punishment for laughing at the Captain’s two left feet.

 


29 Comments

Badlands

Are the badlands really bad?

The lack of a steady supply of water makes it hard to grow much. And look at the terrain. Can you imagine an expensive piece of farm machinery trying to negotiate those hillsides? I think farming this area is out of the question.

Still, some vegetation just plants itself. It has to be tough to survive. Grasses are real survivors if they only have a chance to sprout.

But seeds are easily washed away if not in the sparse rain, then at least in the run-off from snowmelt. The wind lends a hand too. Between them, wind and water carve out a landscape full of curves, rifts, pillars, and odd-shaped hills.

So what is the good of these badlands? That is, if there is anything good about them.

At first glance, it looks like a wasteland. You’d be surprised though, how much life it supports. Insects, obviously, and those attract birds and snakes. Lots of snakes.  I guess that’s a good thing, if you like snakes. They have to go somewhere.

The carved out crumbling rock formations provide many crevices and holes for a snake to hide in – a place to get out of the hot sun. In the late fall, rattlers will travel miles through prairie grasslands to the badlands where they seek out underground chambers (caves and tunnels) and scooped-out areas where they can snuggle up together for the winter in their very own hibernaculum. These dens are often underground and close to the water table, but preferably in a place where it stays above freezing.

The erosion in the badlands creates all kinds of possible hiding places for small animals.  The fields at the edge of a badlands area could provide food for insects, small rodents, rabbits, and game birds such as grouse and pheasants, which in turn attract predators such as hawks and owls.

Even deer may be found wandering through the badlands.

 

 

 

If you have a dog though, watch where it goes. You don’t want it to be bitten by a sneaky snake. If you take your dog there, maybe to hunt a partridge or other game bird for dinner, the best time to do that is probably early in the morning when it is cool and the snakes are still a bit poky.

A friend told me of a time when his dog (same breed as our Emma – an English field cocker) was running down a path ahead of him and a rattler was in the path directly in front of her. The dog leaped over the coiled up snake and kept going. It was lucky that, because of the cold morning, the snake was still quite lethargic. A few hours later, this scenario could have had an unhappy ending.

If you’re ever in a badlands area, keep your eyes open and your camera handy, and bring along your snakebite kit and the local vet’s phone number.

Internet image

 


52 Comments

Out Behind the Woodshed

Jasper and Crispin are in love. They’ve been chasing each other up and down the fir trees, and through stacks of firewood in the woodshed.

It looks like Jasper has finally caught up to Crispin.

Crispin might be having second thoughts. She’s sneaking away – a bit late – as Jasper’s declarations of love came as a bit of a surprise today. Something tells me that, after all her flirting, she wasn’t expecting quite so much attention. She’s going to find a quiet place to contemplate WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

“Crispin, come back! I love you!” Jasper calls. But she’s gone.

“That was sure fun! But will she come back? Maybe I shouldn’t have been so aggressive, but I thought she was just playing hard to get. And she didn’t say no. Heck! I thought she liked it. I know I did.”

“But what if she gets pregnant? Oh dear! I’m not sure I’m ready to be a father. Oh deardeardear! She’s probably mad at me. I may never see her again.”

“But no! Here she comes with a peace offering. Isn’t she just so sweet?”

“Does this mean you’re my girl? Will you marry me, Crispin?”