Why Sculptures are Frightening

                I slowed and peeked up the hill.  No cars.  I whipped from the private country road onto the public country road.  A minute later blue lights flashed in my rear-view mirror.  My mouth went dry.  I pulled over, wound down the window, and listened to footsteps crunching in the gravel beside the road.   The blue uniform appeared at the window.

                “May I see your license and registration?”

                I glanced up and gave him a smile.  Green eyes glared above a ridged jaw, and one hand rested on the butt of his holstered gun. 

                I handed out my license before sifting through old receipts, napkins, flashlight batteries, wheel-lock keys, and three years’ worth of insurance cards in my glove compartment. 

                “You didn’t come to a complete stop at that intersection.”

                I shot him a wide-eyed glance.  “That is because I was scared.  There was a bear.  I was trying to escape.”

                His green gaze locked on mine.  “A bear?” He glanced around at the Douglas fir, salal, blackberry bushes, and the naked vine maples lining the road.

                “Yes, we have bears.”

                He tilted his head and pursed his lips.  “Um hum.” 

                “We do.”

                “Umm hmmm.”  He pressed the button on the walkie-talkie attached to his shoulder.  “Run the name Melanie Sherman for warrants.”

                “And coyotes, bobcats and really scary dear.”

                He rolled his eyes.  “Show me the bear.”

                I wagged a finger at him.  “Oh, no.  I’m innocent unless you can prove there wasn’t a bear.”

            
  He listened to his radio traffic a few seconds before a semblance of a smile drifted over his lips.  He pushed the button on his shoulder again.  “Have the NSA send me their satellite surveillance video of the address I gave you for the traffic stop.  Have them send the last half hour.”

                “Fine,” I said.  “The bear is just around the corner.  It’s a sculpture in the front yard of that house back there.”

                “You were afraid of a sculpture of a bear?”               

                I nodded vigorously.  “It’s very lifelike.”

                He snorted, and tapped my license against his forefinger. “Umm hummm.”

                Tap tap tap.

                “What if another neighbor decides to do a sculpture of a bobcat in his front yard?”

                Tap tap tap.

                “And then,” I said, warming to my subject, “what if another neighbor puts in a sculpture of an evil-eyed black-tailed buck?”

                The tapping stopped and his eyes narrowed.  “So?”

                “Well then the next neighbor might do one of a coyote, and the next thing you know, they expect me to have a sculpture also.”

                “So?”

                “Well the only other things I normally see around here are red-tailed hawks eating dead rodents in the road.  How would you like to have a sculpture of a road-kill-raccoon prominently displayed in your front yard?”

                He stared for a few moments before he handed back my license.  He turned and sauntered back to his car, checking the brush along the road as he walked, his ear cocked, as if listening for sounds of wildlife.


The above was a writing prompt:  Write about something that scares you

Boulder slams into the bridge over Multnomah Falls

Multnomah Falls the day after

Multnomah Falls, on the Oregon side of the Columbia Gorge, is listed as the second tallest year-round waterfall in the United States. The falls drops in two major steps; the upper falls of 542 feet, then a gradual 9 foot drop in elevation to the lower part of the falls, which drops 69 feet, listing a total of 620 feet.

Unfortunately, water is not the only thing that falls.  An occasional boulder may also careen through space, slamming into the pool at the bottom of the upper falls, or into the Benson Bridge which spans the space between the upper and lower falls.  Yesterday a boulder did a lot of damage to the bridge.  If you look close at the photo above, you can see the yellow caution tap, flapping in the mist bellowing from the falls.  Here is a close up of the bridge.

 

Damage after boulder drops from falls into the bridge 01/09/14

I happened to speak to a New York State Department of Transportation Civil Engineer while I visited today, who told me the bridge is structurally sound.  “Well, let’s see,” she said, “this is January, so I’ll bet they’ll have that repaired by the beginning of summer.”

“Really?” I asked her.  “May I quote you?”

She laughed, but her husband, a history professor, nodded.  “She knows bridges.”

“What about you?” I asked.  “May I quote you, too?”

“I don’t know much about bridges,” he said.

“Well, historically, bridges are often repaired, right?”

“Yes.”

There you have it.  An accurate quote from both a civil engineer and a history professor.  We’ll have our bridge back to normal in no time.  I think my work here is done.

Until then, the trail to the bridge is closed, but you can still see the falls hurling through space, hear the thunder of the cascading water, and feel the mist upon your face.

River rats make lousy hats

Nutria

Coypu, or Nutria, are furry rodents looking similar to a beaver, except with a rat tail.  They are South American creatures, but were transported to the US years ago to compete in the fur market.  Apparently the Nutria fur never became as popular as the beaver, fox, raccoon or mink, and as nutria farms became less profitable, many of these river rats were released into the wild.

Nutria

Unfortunately, they breed quickly, displacing native animals.  They are environmentally destructive, burrowing into river banks, causing erosion, destroying aquatic vegetation, marshes, and irrigation systems.  They chew through wooden barriers erected to house gates to control water in some of the lakes at the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge, causing the need for constant repair of the wetland habitat.



I see them often at the refuge, but only once have I seen a white one.

White Nutria

Writing prompt #6--Create a first sentence in 15 words or less.

She listened at the door, breath caught, blood screaming in her ears.

No picture.  Just that first sentence.  That's it.

Writing Prompt #5--Give advice for the coming year in 150 words or less.

This was even harder than the 350 word prompts. But I did it in 136, and it is good advice too. No, really.
***************

Everyone is wishing people a happy and prosperous 2014. Fourteen is seven—twice—and I don’t know about you, but this is not the come-out roll for me. A seven is bad. A seven will wipe out all the money you have on the table. If, by chance, you begin to recover, you’re going to get slammed with another seven before the end of the year.

I’m pretty sure the number twenty isn’t good either. That is ten—twice. It means once your prosperity is swept from the felt, it may be two decades before you recover. Twenty years! Are you feeling lucky?

My advice for 2014? Stay in bed with the blankets over your head…unless you’re lodging in a casino’s complimentary room. Run. Then call me and I’ll take that room card off your hands.

Good luck!

Writing Prompt #4--Describe your favorite breakfast cereal in a timed one-minute post

Today's writing prompt is timed. I have one minute to describe my favorite breakfast cereal.

If you would like to leave your (family friendly) entry in the comments section, you may do so, or include a link to your blog.

Here is mine:

I like oatmeal. The real oatmeal, not the instant kind, with just a little brown sugar and dried cranberries. But if I were truthful, what I’d really like is a cereal made of left-over pizza. A nice bowl of crunchy bites of pepperoni and artichoke heart pizza, with or without almond milk. Maybe with some grapes on it to make it healthy. And a slice of banana (which I just said in case my doctor is reading this.)

(I found this picture interesting because it includes sloe schnapps, which I hadn't thought of as a breakfast food until this minute. Photo is by "cyclonebill" from Copenhagen, Denmark, 2011.

Writing Prompt #3---Five random words

Today's writing prompt is five random words I got from a random word website. I have to admit, I was pretty happy to see "anchor" on there, since my first book takes place on the a Royal Navy vessel, the Reckoning, in 1805.

Here are the five words.

Ball
Hospital
Anchor
Hope
Tonic

I'm trying to stay as close to 350 words as possible. Without further ado, below is my story. If you'd like to do a 350 word story, using these same words, please put a link to your blog in the comments.

* * * * * *


“Take this tonic,” the Spanish physician said in French, waving a spoon in my face. “You’ll feel better.”

I doubted it. If I’d been a boy, like everyone thought when Napoleon’s soldiers captured me, I’d simply be a prisoner of war. When they carried me to hospital and dug the musket ball out of my shoulder, they discovered I was not a boy. That was when they decided I was a spy.

That meant the guillotine. I knew enough French to know they intended to let my wound heal before the trial, but what was the point if they intended to kill me? My only hope was they’d spare my life because I was a woman.

The sweet smell of medicinal herbs wafted under my nose. The physician pressed the spoon to my lips. I took the laudanum and tried to clear my mind. Sleep, I needed sleep.

When I opened my eyes, it was dark. Footsteps in the hall held an unmistakable note of stealth. They stopped. The faint sound of breathing drifted through the doorway. I could hear it over the heartbeats slamming into my bruised ribs. I couldn’t decide if I should hide under the sheet, or sit up and face the enemy like a…like a…like my shipmates would expect. I struggled to focus.

The footsteps started again, coming closer. Panic filtered through the euphoria of the drugs, and I couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping. Were they here to take me to trial, or were they here for something far worse? I dragged myself to a sitting position and squinted into the dark.

“Maxwell?”

A thrill sparked through me. I knew that whisper. “Yes.” He was the commander of my ship. “Lieutenant Kearney?”

He huffed out a sigh of relief. “Glad we found you, boy. We’ve just taken one of the Spanish ships at anchor. Get up and let’s get back to the Reckoning.”

He scooped me up. We sneaked past a sleeping orderly and out into the moist night air.

Writing Prompt #2

Today the writing prompt is: Create an emotionally charged three word story.

In an effort to break the mire of writer's block, I'm launching my first set of writing prompts. This is the second, below.


Quick! Abandon ship!

Give me your own emotionally charged three word story in the comments section.

Writing Prompt #1

Writing Prompt: Fall out of love, without using the word "love"


His kisses, his smile, his soft, husky voice made my insides quiver. Late at night we’d languish in each other’s arms and whisper we’d always be there for each other. He changed a washer on our dripping faucet, and grinned when I told him he was my rain and my sun. I’d throw vegetables and a roast into the crockpot before work, and he’d say he could hardly wait until we’d be together to eat it. He drained the gas from our mower when the bags of fall leaves were tossed onto the garbage truck in the misty dawn, saying I was brighter than autumn. When I’d duck into the cleaners to pick up his suits during the evening commute, he'd laugh and say I was his angel.

One day a note under the plastic covering the freshly pressed clothes indicated a stain could not be removed. Bright pink lipstick. Not mine.

At first I thought nothing of it, but he started to come home late, go to bed late. He complained he didn’t like pot roast. Long into the winter, the lawn-mower gas remained.

A dusting of snow slicked the roads. On my way home, my car slid into a ditch. I punched his number with shaky, cold fingers, listening to the ring until it went to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. The cold seeped through my jacket and my teeth chattered. I pressed redial.

“What do you want?” I heard the impatience in his growl. “I’m busy.”

“I slid into a d-ditch. It is going to be at least an hour for the t-tow truck.”

“Okay.”

Okay? That was it? My eyes filled. “Will you c-come get me?”

“Wait for the tow,” he said. “I’m busy.”

In the headlights, the white snowflakes fell in silence, like my tears. Trucks rumbled past, making me balance against the wind of their wake. Adrift, I huddled into my jacket and shivered on the edge of the dark, icy street until the snow quieted the world.

He wasn't mine anymore. I was alone.

We must have harmony

In keeping with the Christmas season, I don't mind telling you while I snapped this photo, I was harmonizing with Michael Bublé as he sang "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas." He could really have a hit if he re-recorded the song with me. (Michael, I love your voice, but I totally rocked the harmony which I made up myself.)

Can fog disable GPS

Just had a harrowing experience. Everyone on FB bragged about fog, and how Christmas lights look especially beautiful in it. I drove eight miles until I hit fog, and hung a right into a little neighborhood where all the streets loop around willy-nilly. The lights were lovely, but after twenty minutes of loop-the-loop, I realized I was lost. About the time the neighbors started to call my car in as suspicious, I hauled out my GPS. Did you know it can’t find the satellites through the fog? Through good fortune, I eventually found my way back to the main streets. Then the GPS kicked in.

Candy Crush Traffic Alert

This week I downloaded the free app, Candy Crush, on my Kindle to see what all the hoopla was about. It took quite a lot of time for me to figure it out. You have to get three pieces of the same candy in a row. They disappear and more candy fills their spots. I'm still not good at it, but it takes over your mind, so you see things in threes. It is additive, like a narcotic.

 This evening I was driving home from my mother's choral group's Christmas Concert. Traffic was heavy and there were two dark cars in front of me. Another dark car wanted to get in my lane. It flashed through my mind that it would be good to have three dark cars in a row. I slowed and let him in. Seriously, I think I expected them to disappear, which would open up the lane for me.

 I should read that book I purchased a week ago.

Classical Christmas music, a fireplace, and a good book

I’ve got Pandora on a classical Christmas music station I created. There is a three hour video of a crackling, sizzling fire. I’m reading a book on the Kindle and a cat is vibrating across my leg. After about an hour, I reached down to feel if the cat was real. He bit my thumb.

Pacific Tree Frog

I think this is a Pacific tree frog.  They are small and can change color to match their surroundings.  If you click on the picture to make it bigger, it is easier to see the frog.

Pacific tree frog

Taken at the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge, 2013

Frightened Canada Geese

When I see a flock of Canada Geese rise up in a panic, flapping manically to a different lake in the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge wetlands, I look around for a bald eagle.  They don't care about the Red-tailed Hawks, or the Northern Harriers, but they are terrified of the eagles.  I caught the eagle on camera after it landed in the tree on the other side of the field at the end of the video.  Also, do you hear the other birds joining in the frenzied song?

Sounds like Sandhill Cranes to me.  What do you think?

Thanksgiving Day Parade

Happy Thanksgiving!

Another sunny day in the Northwest.  Here is a Thanksgiving day parade.  If you click on the picture, you will see the male Cinnamon Teals have cinnamon colored eyes.  Females have dark eyes.

Cinnamon Teal males & one Cinnamon Teal female

Cinnamon Teal ducks

Like water off a duck's back

My picture of the day.

Mallard coming up from water

And here he is a few seconds later.

All dry

Tundra Swan Love

This is my first attempt at editing a video on Youtube.  I added three videos together and then I couldn't help making it into a silent film with annotations and notes.  It is a romance between Herbert and Karen, kind of sad, but with a happy ending.  Unfortunately, you need to put it on full screen to see the annotations. 

Tell me what you think of my story video.  

Why the Tundra Swan has a black bill

Tundra swans are beautiful, majestic even.  But why do they have that black bill on the pristine white body?

Tundra Swan

I sat and watched them looking for food in the wetlands.  The water is not deep.  It looks as though he is searching the mud for yummy items. It certainly explained that black bill.

Notice how muddy the head is when it pops up out of the water.  Also, it appears he is stirring up the mud with his feet before lowering his head again.  The Mallards seem to enjoy whatever the swan is churning up.

Never eat like a bird

Not all the birds at the Ridgefield National Wildlife Refuge are waterfowl.  There are other birds who find the refuge a fun place to visit.  But I was a little concerned about the following two birds.

Okay, it looks like this bird has eaten enough to hibernate through the winter.  And, um...I'm assuming it is a male.   Then, on another branch, probably its mate?  See below.

Seriously, I've discovered my mistake.  All my life I've been trying to eat like a bird.  Perhaps that is where I went wrong.