Story Pictures

 A walk in the woods always awakens my fanciful side.  If you hadn’t noticed, I enjoy photographing objects and scenes that pique my curiosity.  I enjoy pondering the stories that might be contained within the pictures.

An image can be very evocative to the well-read.  For instance, what sort of story comes to mind should you see a picture of a lamp post in a snowy wood?  How about a young redhead in a too-tight yellowish-gray wincey dress?  An old-fashioned honey pot on a counter?  A round, green wooden door?  

Hmmm…so many fun stories.  

This morning I took this picture with the intention of capturing the old winding grapevine.  But as I looked closer I saw thought, “I seem to have taken a shot of someone’s front porch.”  Can you see it?  


The pile of flood debris makes a great shelter for the main hole to someone’s underground house. 


The vine would be a sky bridge to the tree tops.  And along it the artfully draped shed bark from the dying half of the tree might be someone’s laundry.

I stood for some time in the cool, fall morning listening to the plunk of falling acorns and the rustling of squirrels.  It was not at all difficult to imagine the beginnings of a story.  I almost gave a friendly “halloo” in hopes of meeting the resident. I could just see them popping out and inviting me in for a cuppa. I stood in silence though, contemplating. 

Maybe next week I shall bake pumpkin muffins and bring one down there in hopes of a friendly chat. 

But perhaps they have moved on up the ridge to higher country for the fall and winter, to avoid being flooded out.

Maybe when I go back next week I can help move the furniture.  

Perhaps not…but it would make a fine, fine story. 

Don’t you think?



Comments

Donna. W said…
Good story indeed. I love what one's imagination can do.
September 29, 2022 at 7:45 AM
Calfkeeper said…
An active imagination can certainly make a walk more interesting.
September 29, 2022 at 6:04 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Oyster

It isn't even halfway through the month yet and I have run out of lists or anything amusing to tell you about the dairy. So here is a poem I picked up on a homesteading forum. It does deal with ag issues, just of a different sort... Enjoy! The Oyster Baxter Black The sign upon the café wall said OYSTERS: fifty cents. "How quaint," the blue-eyed sweetheart said with some bewildermence, "I didn't know they served such fare out here upon the plain." "Oh, sure," her cowboy date replied, "We're really quite urbane." "I would guess they're Chesapeake or Blue Point, don't you think?" "No ma'am, they're mostly Hereford cross . . . and usually they're pink But I've been cold, so cold myself, what you say could be true And if a man looked close enough, their points could sure be blue!" She said, "I gather them myself out on the bay alone. I pluck them from the murky depths and smash them with a
Read more

Like Cats A'Fightin'

Image
That's a local saying when it's snowing hard. Snowing like cats a'fightin'. You can look out and see the fur flying. Ellen had never been outside while it was actually snowing. She was enchanted. She had to have a bucket of it to carry around. It was in the mid-20s but we took a bit of a walk before coming back in for a nap. The snow is still too dry to be able to make a snowman, it is really powdery. So far we have somewhere between 3 and 4 inches, I would suspect.
Read more

The Blind Calf Story

Image
This happened last month. I thought it was an interesting case. Wed Aug 15th 2007 8:30 AM: Went out and brought new heifer calf and cow in from field. Not too sure how old calf was; umbilical cord sort of dried up, but calf still seemed damp. Left her with cow all morning ‘til maybe early afternoon, then separated them. Beautiful, normal calf. 6 PM Fed calf bottle. She slugged back the whole thing. Thurs Aug 16th5:15 AM (approx) Calf comatose. Or as near as I could tell. She was on her side, non-responsive, drooling, head on ground, eyes closed or just barely opened. I tried to feed her bottle but she only swallowed convulsively once or twice, then milk just drained from her mouth. 5:30 AM. Husband went out and looked at her. Drug her out of pen and out of the way to be taken to boneyard later after chores were all done. She was barely breathing and as I said, totally non-responsive.This was a real grief as the cow she came from is a great milker and to get a heifer from her was a joy.
Read more