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Oh My Moment

11/26/2022

The vista and its options are not unnoticed. A natural visual extension becomes the introduction or the icing, and sometimes both. The ability started long ago with a connection to the land. Breathe in, breathe out, relax and listen before staking the two foot square. No tape measure, only the size six footwear caressing the terra firma. The boundary lines marked without looking down. Baby steps this way and that. Slow, flowing movements until that thing, the one most would not see, emerges. Mere seconds record the shutter’s final clicks capturing the discovery of the whispered, “Oh my!” moment

A camera of one form or another, is not far from my reach whether I’m on a gravel travel outing, wandering the trails, or cruising around the yard. I am amazed at the gifts I am given with some of the sights I see. Those split-second moments when the brain registers an “oh my” or a “stop, backup, whoa” moment.

Giving myself an unmeasured diameter of two feet is usually all it takes to get a picture or several of them. That space allows movement, ever so slightly, in any direction, to take advantage of a different light, an ant boldly walking across a flower, or the morning dew shimmering in the sunrise.

From time to time I have unknowingly enlarged the square. By the time I have realized what I have done, the opportunity to get any sort of picture is usually gone.

The ticking of the clock is also a factor. Thinking you have all the time in the world to get a shot is not going to bode well because Mother Nature waits on no one.

November 21, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the phrase, “Oh, my.” It can be used in storytelling or dialog. What is the cause for such a response? Have fun with this one! Go where the prompt leads!

Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life
"Capturing moments others may never get to experience.”

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#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #99WordStories #FlashFiction #farmerslife #ranchtradition #ohwowmoment #stopbackupwhoa #motherearthsgifts ##MoonRisingAnEclecticCollectionOfWorks #connectwithnature #graveltravel #wanderthetrails #inspiredbynature #ConnectWithThePast #storiesofthepast #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #CozyMysteries #cookbooks #PromptWriting #WesternHeritage #TheOldWays #RanchCulture #BeginningToEnd #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #fromwhereicomefrom

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White Lies - Chapter 1, 2 & 3

11/19/2022

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CHAPTER ONE
“I can’t live with these lies anymore.”
The words made him look up from the book he was reading. His heart lurched seeing the anguish on her face, tears pooling in her eyes. Did he dare ask, or let her say her piece and see where the conversation went? He thought better of reaching out for her when she walked past to sit in her favourite chair. Legs curled underneath her, shoulders shaking with sobs.
“Should we talk about this?” He ventured, not knowing what else to say.
She nodded. “There has to be a way to resolve this.”

CHAPTER TWO
Sniffing, she searched for the hankie she always kept in her pocket. Looking at him, she started to laugh.
“You think this is about us?”
“I’m not sure. I didn’t think we had any lies between us.”
“We don’t!” She hiccuped.
Relief settled across his face and he reached across the end table to take her hand in his. She clung to his fingers, letting the words fly out of her mouth unchecked. They sounded silly when she spoke then.
“Every product in our laundry room is a lie! I am so tired of white lies. No pun intended.”

CHAPTER THREE
They were both laughing. “Nothing’s white. Everything’s dingy. I want our linen and clothes to look and smell like my Gran’s used to.”
He stood, pulling her up into his arms.
“I think we can do that,” he said quietly.
“How? I’ve tried all of the products.”
Remembering the stories his own Gran and Mother swore were true, a plan started to formulate in his mind. It would take some doing, but where there is a will, there is a way. He couldn’t wait to get started on the upscale, outdoor laundry space showcasing none other than a clothesline.

A clothesline was a given at our home in my growing up years. It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I remember a clothes dryer found its way into the laundry room beside the electric washer that had replaced the wringer washer.

It was the age of polyester fabric. A cloth that did not bode well when dried outside after the spin cycle. Still, even with the inception of the dryer, the clothesline maintained its status quo as a staple in our home. It continued to be used to dry the towels, sheets, underwear, jeans, work shirts, and any other items that could get away without needing an iron to finish its laundering cycle.

Winter laundry days often lead to being more than one day. The linens still needed to be washed and dried; however, they were often brought into the house from the line, literally frozen. They had to be draped over a makeshift rope line, or any piece of furniture, until they were at least, what mom called damp/dry. That meant they were dry enough to be iron-dried, which meant you used an iron on a hot, non-steam setting, until the item was dry. The electric dryer ended the process. However, there were still warm winter days when the linens were hung, brought in before nightfall, and thrown into the dryer to finish the process, excluding the fabric sheets that were supposed to make them smell like the great outdoors. They already had that from being outside for the day.

In the summer, there wasn’t the rush of getting it off the line, folded, and put away before the next load needed to be hung. It may get to stay out on the line for a few days if you missed the signs that rain was coming; which undoubtedly meant a second, or possibly a third au naturel rinse before the sun came out and the wind came up to dry the items.

The thing I remember most about the linens that came in from their stint on the clothesline (every season) is the fresh scent. The one that was there to nuzzle your face in. The one that went to bed with you, and was there on the towels after a bath.

And, does the myth that the sun, moon, and morning dew remove stains from diapers? I am here to tell you, from personal experience of using cotton cloth diapers with our children, that it is not a myth. But, that is a story for another day.

November 14, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes a lie. What is the lie? It can be subtle or blatant. Who tells the lie and why? Is it an unreliable narrator? Go where the prompt leads!

Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life
"Capturing moments others may never get to experience.”

Be the first to get all our latest news and updates. Join our mailing list.

#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #99WordStories #FlashFiction #farmerslife #ranchtradition #lies #clothesline #freshscent #laundryday #whitelies #twistedwords #MoonRisingAnEclecticCollectionOfWorks #connectwithnature #graveltravel #wanderthetrails #inspiredbynature #ConnectWithThePast #storiesofthepast #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #CozyMysteries #cookbooks #PromptWriting #WesternHeritage #TheOldWays #RanchCulture #BeginningToEnd #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #fromwhereicomefrom

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Alarm System

11/12/2022

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Leaving the barn, she stopped in its shadow, listening to the sounds of the coming night, but tonight there was more. Moving toward the house, her steps muffled by the grass beside the gravel path, she hoped the loudness of her beating heart wouldn’t give her away. Across the yard, the gate she always kept closed at the front of the house, was hanging open. She had meant to oil the hinges until she realized the squeaking noise they made had become her alarm system. The moving silhouette rounding the corner of the house confirmed she was not alone.

I was raised to pay attention and know my surroundings. Landmarks were, and still are, a big part of going from one place to another. The same holds true for the noises that are always prevalent. Growing up in a part of the world that is rural, and maybe back then, even called ‘the bush’, these two go hand in hand.

Sounds heard during the day often become a comforting white noise. Those same sounds at night are very different. If you allow yourself to get to a point where your mind is in tune with the normal sounds, day or night, it takes nothing to realize there is something different going on.

Taking time to listen to your surroundings, whether urban or rural, will instil knowledge you are unaware of until it happens. Subtle noises that are not normal for the time of day, or location, may be enough of a warning to move your brain to a different level of paying attention. It’s not about listening to things that might be troubling, and it’s not about becoming complacent, although these are both important. It’s about being vigilant and not missing the moments when the sounds you hear might make you smile.

November 7, 2022, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story that includes something squeaky. What is squeaky and why? How does it move the story or disrupt a character? Listen, write, and go where the prompt leads!

Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life
"Capturing moments others may never get to experience.”

Be the first to get all our latest news and updates. Join our mailing list.

#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #99WordStories #FlashFiction #farmerslife #ranchtradition #squeakinghinges #ruralalarmsystem #knowyoursurroundings #daysend #nightshadows #silhouetteshadow #MoonRisingAnEclecticCollectionOfWorks #connectwithnature #graveltravel #wanderthetrails #inspiredbynature #ConnectWithThePast #storiesofthepast #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #CozyMysteries #cookbooks #PromptWriting #WesternHeritage #TheOldWays #RanchCulture #BeginningToEnd #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography

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Oh My Moment

White Lies - Chapter 1, 2 & 3

Alarm System

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