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In five words, write a story about this photograph. 
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #fivewordstory #photowritingprompt #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #annedallrobsonbooks
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99 WORDS...AND A LITTLE BIT MORE Looking out the window at the lazy snow flakes settling in the grass; at this time of year it might be snow or rain. Glancing at the calendar, she wasn’t surprised to see the moisture. A note written on today’s square told her precipitation was expected. Sure enough, the old ways her grandmother had ingrained in her held true once again. No need to listen to the radio, TV, or check an app to know if moisture should happen. Her weather report: record the foggy days, count out 90 days, make the note FOG90 in the appropriate calendar square.
Carrying the history and traditions forward from previous generations is a passion of mine. The old way of making notes like Fog or Feb Fog on the calendar continues, at least in our family. In generations past, and current, the knowledge there will be some form of precipitation, be it snow or rain, at certain times of the year, can be a bonus. Think about it, those who lived before radio, television, and cell phones needed a way to tell them what was going to happen in the weather department. Who did they turn to? Nature and keeping information in journals &/or notes on calendars. These notes included the weather patterns and paying attention to animals and birds. I talked about this in articles I wrote in 2016 - Old Timers Prediction, and again in 2018 - The Weather Forecaster. For example, consider the month of May as the time to plant the garden; however, if there was a lot of fog during the month of February, your planting strategy might need to be reviewed. You will most likely want to put seeds in the ground before the 90-day note on the calendar. This gives the seeds the needed moisture to germinate; you are less likely to have to plant them in mud, or have to wait until the ground dries out some, so you can actually put the seeds in the ground. It is my experience that the lack of fog in the first quarter of the year can affect the moisture expected during the growing season. Of course, fog in the second quarter could mean that moisture might affect the harvest season. Does this form of telling the weather hold true 100% of the time? No; but it’s close enough to make me record the foggy days on my calendar. Besides, it makes for interesting conversation and it’s surprising how many people I have told this to, now do it. This is not the first time I have written about the old ways. The funny thing is, that I mention the old timers thinking about my parents and their parents when I do. In a recent conversation, I mentioned old-timers, stopped, laughed, and proudly said, “I guess now I would be considered one of the old-timers.” How do you keep track of weather happenings?
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #99WordStories #FlashFiction #weatherstation #ranchtradition #engrained #familytradition #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #TheOldWays #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography August 22, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the arrival of the weather. It can mean any kind of weather event meteorological or mythological. Is the weather personified, random, or calculating? Where does it arrive? Is it typical or epoch-changing? Who is involved? And if the Womam Who Doesn’t Want Red Hair shows up, well, ask her what’s happening. Go where the prompt leads!
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #WordoftheWeek #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #annedallrobsonbooks #demurred
In five words, write a story about this photograph. 
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #fivewordstory #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #annedallrobsonbooks
99 WORDS...AND A LITTLE BIT MORE The familiar turn off welcomes me not far from where I want to be. Singing to old favourites coming through the airwaves, the anticipation of my destination bounces through me as I navigate the ruts and pot holes. Two more cattle guard crossings before I continue northwest on the road flanked with aspens and evergreens. I can see the place in my mind. I’ll be greeted by the fenced pasture. In the distance, the hills will dance with colour on their journey to the mountains. This road never fails me. I can count on it to take me home. My homeland is about ten hours away by car, on the West side of the Rocky Mountains. The option to fly, when available, shortens the travel time by about eight hours. Travel is always weather and road dependent, even when it isn't winter. Needless to say, I am more likely to refer to the place I grew up as ‘where I am from’. It’s not home any more, although my roots sink deep into that part of the country, because it’s where I am from that continually guides me to where I go. I consider my home to be on the East side of the Rockies. Probably because I have lived here for over four decades. That doesn’t take the way I feel, or how I do things, out of my life. I found new avenues to give me ways to remind me of my growing up years and the towns and people that molded me to who I am today. I can honestly say that going home does not have to be your homeland, or where you grew up. I have no regrets that I no longer call the place I grew up home. Yet, I recognize those places as being an important part of me, and they will always have a place in my heart and a vault full of memories. Home, as they say, is where you hang your hat and your heart. What I now call home enables me to embrace the lifestyle in which I was raised. Not because it’s how I live, but because I can. I have met and been welcomed by people who I know are life-long friends. Doors are always open (I even have my own key to one or two) and the welcome mat is there to invite me in. When I hear the words, “Welcome home,” my heart sings because I know it to be so. The photograph in this post is taken from one of those gravel roads that truly makes me feel like I am going home. It gives me a feeling of calm, euphoria, and love, along with a chastising word or two for not going more often.
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #99WordStories #FlashFiction #goinghome #ranchtradition #albertafall #graveltravel #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #TheOldWays #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography August 15, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about the journey home. Who is going home? Or are they in search of a future home or ancestral roots? Think of home as a life lived — adventures, relationships, accumulations. What makes home worth the journey? Go where the prompt leads!
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #WordoftheWeek #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #annedallrobsonbooks #bumfuzzle
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #WordoftheWeek #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography #annedallrobsonbooks
99 Words...and a little bit moreMom says this is something I have to do. I don’t see why, she’s doing an awesome job bringing us food while we check out the landscape from our home up here in the tree branches. But, oh no, nothing doing, today’s the day she just screeched from over my head. It’s easy for her; she’s been doing it for years. Of course, my sister did as she was told and is now showing off flapping her wings out there over the valley. I told mom I’d try it for sure tomorrow. She said no way. Well, here goes!
There is hardly a time when I’m cruising the gravel roads that I don’t see some wildlife and birds. The downside of the experience is finding a place to safely stop. Often it’s a ‘Whoa, Backup, Stop’ moment. Being able to watch them for as long as they let me, is a gift I cherish each and every time I’m out. The bonus, of course, is taking photographs to share. The animals don’t usually stick around too long; but the hawks will perch on a tree limb, a fence post, or float on the wind for ages, dipping and diving with the air current. All are perfect vantage points for them to hunt from. Recently, a hawk watched me driving straight towards it while it sat nonchalantly in the middle of the road. It was not the first time I had come across a fledgling looking like it didn’t know what it was supposed to be doing. I slowed to a stop, pulling off the road as far as I could. It didn’t move, other than swivelling its head to check out the lay of the land. I stayed inside my vehicle, taking pictures through the dust-covered windshield. Thinking I might get a better shot if I rolled down the window, I was quickly disappointed because the line of fire was wrong. While I kept an eye on the fledgling, I could hear an adult hawk screeching overhead. Words of encouragement, perhaps; however, true to any youngster’s mindset, the fledgling ignored the cries. My attention took me to a dust tail behind a truck approaching, not slowing. I hoped they would either see the bird or the bird would take to its wings to get the heck out of the way of a certain death. One last swivel of the head, a hop, and a valiant attempt to lift off. One wing dipped back down to the ground and it settled back on the ground. Another hop, a little higher this time, both wings flapped in unison, taking the young hawk on a low passage over the ditch and over the barbed wire fence. It wobbled again, clipped a willow bush, and disappeared. Did it take flight to continue sailing over the valley? Did it make a crash landing behind the stand of wolf willows? I cannot answer either of those questions with certainty. When the dust settled from the oncoming vehicle, and my attention strayed from the fledgling, I opened the sunroof to video the adult screeching, swooping and soaring in the blue sky above me. All in all, another great day of gravel travel. August 1, 2023, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story about something or someone immature. Is it a wine not yet ready to uncork or an adult not ready to adult? You can follow the flight of immature fledglings or come up with something unexpected. Go where the prompt leads!
#AnnEdallRobson #FromWhereICome #99WordStories #FlashFiction #fledgling #ranchtradition #makingmemories #graveltravel #CapturingMomentsOthersMayNeverGetToExperience #TheOldWays #RuralLiving #WhoaBackUpStop #AnnEdallRobsonPhotography
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Ann Edall-Robson
Author, Photographer, Lover of Life. "Capturing moments others may never get to experience.” Archives
January 2025
99 Words
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