Cranberry Sauce

An easy Turkey staple in four pimeces! We start with a bag of whole cranberries. They are thrown in a colander and sprayed. In saucepan, I mix a cup of OJ, 3/4 cup of brown sugar, a tablespoon of honey, and the cranberries. Bring the put to a boil and simmer for 10-15 minutes stirring frequently. When almost every berry pops open move put to place to chill. Once they can be put in bowl refrigerate for 1 hour or freezer for 1/2 hour. This is about six average servings of about 1/2 cup.

For those calorie counters, adding up the ingredients there’s about 115 calories per serving

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Read on a Rock

There are signs

You need to be still

They glow, sometimes blink

Others cry out into the wildness

Hoping they will be heard

Barile message read out

Following requires little

Complications are excuses

Its made obvious for a reason

Time

Does the alarm feel anxiety?

As those moments tick by

Is their a double check?

Awakening to call for awakening

Without thinking does time move?

Or is it a shadow passing?

If we repeat things over again

Did time change or what happened?

My calendar, a measure of the past

Reasoned out to be the future

But the Sun calls the tune

The motion of our home sings out

When the language is not ours

Are we guessing the words?

In the moment we are fixed

Unaware if anything passed at all

After the Flood

On July 15th, this valley had a severe flash flood & a dozen members of one family perished here. The first image is a memorial to a 2 year old child, the second youngest victim.

Image two is a metal picnic table that has been moved a half mile from where it started, and it’s over a hundred pounds.

Image three is a stack of logs and tree trunks almost six feet tall.

Last is the calm river today

Passing Time

“The Devil’s pocket watch had no hands.” Parson Dubois whispers to the pale breeze.

His eyes look for the passage of time or life…Or anything. His wooden bench testament of a barn no longer in use. Much like the rest of the dozen buildings long abandoned that make up Destiny. His world of three dusty rows mistaken for streets.

His mind places people about the store fronts. Ghosts of days gone by. Horses tied to posts. A wagon left half way between coming and going. Sounds of children ring out. Ladies in long dresses meander past lost in conversation about their neighbors.

The church bell clangs behind him. He jumps up to answer. His hands part the brown faded doors. The empty rows of pews lay sleeping. A simple dias with an open book holds service to a lost cause. Yet behind a partial wall there seems to be life.

His stands fast in the middle to gaze out among his missing flock. He knows no-one should have gone past him. His company creates a mystery. Even the ghosts have departed these parts.

From a corner jumps a ten treat old Reggie Whitener. His Amish hat just about swallows his head. His smile lights up the room.

“I waited till I seen Mr Miller..just like you ask of me!” Reggie stands like he is ready to run and chase the wind.

“Well, that’s a good young man.” He speaks faintly while his eyes look upon someone gone to his reward several years earlier. “Now light us a candle and take your place near your momma.”

He gives into the scene. Voices fill a previously empty church. Parson Dubois wipes his eyes of the flow of tears. He is smiling for first time in a long time. His back remains to the church. His pulse kicks up a notch causing a hot flash.

He turns to hear an angel’s voice calling the assembly toward the light. Standing together six and thirty begin to sing. Each face lights up with a soft glow. They all gently sway side to side in rhythm of the hymn. One last beacon of hope from the ashes blown around for a generation.

“You have all come back to me!” he leaves a careless laugh to his words.

The breezes blow past. Through the windows a world grows dark. The faces smile brighter.

“It’s time you came home with us.” They collectively sing.

Parson Dubois falls sidewise on the bench. His pocket watch no longer needs hands either.

Faint Memories of Yesterday

Little whisper calls

A flash in the eyes

Nervous energy sparks

It’s the smell of hope

Taste of salt from the beach

Memories make clay of thoughts

Churning inside reaching for daylight

The touch of possible

Stirs lost sensations

Eyes delve for images

Time wisps away from now

Sepia shades of what was once

Crayons outline what could have been

If’s and Why’s dance in circles

Wants and needs choose next colors

Still the whispers persist

Distant dreams vividly wave like flags

Crying out to remind you

Here isn’t a destination but a passage

Faint memories of yesterday

Desperately trying to awaken you

From the sleep we call living

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/faint/”>Faint</a&gt;

Sunday Whirl – Fate Denied

My sly smile blossoms. I have denied the child’s fate. An anxiety closet with a tapestry weaver in decline will soon be renting somewhere else.