On the country road, towards the setting sun

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“Riding along, singing a song, maybe, or at least, whistling a tune, when moving (read: slowly walking) towards the setting sun“ Gun Roswell

On the country road, towards the setting sun

“The time, is now,” to me, said the pasturing cow
“To enjoy, this very moment, when the sun, is about to set,
For tomorrow, another set of sorrows, will surely follow,
So do not hesitate, go, move, crawl, walk, run,
What ever it takes, just enjoy, this time, of the setting sun!”

It was the most and also quite likely, also the best set of any kind of advice
I had ever received, and so, without further thought, I did then and there, decide
To take up, on that very suggestion, and there on, without any further hesitation
I took the first step, on the very long length, of this road, on the country side
And started walking, way, way out there, towards the setting of the sun, divine

Seated by the seashore in the sunshine with some corn

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“Take a load off on the sunny side of the winter’s storm” Gun Roswell

Seated by the seashore in the sunshine with some corn

The afternoon sun, reflected off of the freshly fallen snow, now covering the frozen waterscape. A solemn bench still remained by the seashore sat, as if waiting for someone to take a load off a spend a moment to escape, especially, on such a fine day. Alas the streets were quite empty, not really sure as to what that had prompted, as not one single passer-by was anywhere to find, even if the sunshine, should have tempted everyone out and about for a stroll or a simple fresh breath to allow. Hours passed again, the sun ready to set in, for the night ahead, but still, a few rays dared to peel through and then, one creature courageous enough, had come out and was now, seated, on the very bench, in the sunshine still at reach, snacking on his big acorn, delighted to do it in some peace and quiet as usually, finding such spot, would instantly cause a riot. But today, he got some alone time, surely rare, in the big city, open wide.

Not, without my Coffee!

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“Never leave the house, without, a) having a cup of coffee before or at least, b) a to go cup of coffee with you” Gun Roswell

Not, without my Coffee!

The morning usually starting, with at least, one cup of steaming, dark, hot, tongue popping delicious sustenance. But, if for some reason, and this could easily be called treason, there would be no coffee left in the house, because that louse of a memory, simply forgot, to restock the cupboards, with the one must item, you cannot without survive, then life, really is nothing, but a strife, spiralling quickly, down the nearest storm drain as after this experience, nothing would ever remain quite the same.

Alas a light at the end of the tunnel, as some sort of a food truck, just outside the housing complex had parked and the sweet, sweet smell of the wonderful drink, wafted to my nostrils just as I was on a brink, of total despair, seemingly, the situation unable to repair. But, with this turn of events, the total shock and horror could easily prevent, the fowl mood usually following a day’s start without coffee. So today, besides the most great tasting cup of the finest organic suspension ever devised by humankind, I also got myself a new best friend, a coffee vendor, from the Heavens sent. So, now sipping my coffee, quite happily, as that is the way any morning should be spent.

The red cottage in the forrest

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“The little red cottage in the middle of the forest, a dream for some” Gun Roswell

The red cottage in the forrest

It was painted in bright red, even if it clashed with all the green there, but still it remained hidden from prying eyes, even those who were considered spies. It was secured in the middle of the lushest and thickest of tall trees, from the ground up to the heavens it solemnly stood, and there was nothing or no one able to get to it either on foot or any other method. A tiny thing it might have been, alas a safe haven for the courageous builders, who had it up and run by the simplest of materials to be found, erected from the ground, not as a big or lasting monuments, but something more realistic and non-pollutant. A small cottage, in the middle of the thickest forest, a fable to most, but a home for few, who could appreciate the lure, of a simple yet sufficient dwelling, never ever it for any reward to be selling.

The warm light of the candle or a roll in the cold snow

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“I can take you in warm or I can take you in cold” Din Djarin

The warm light of the candle or a roll in the cold snow

The candle light flickered, softly in the darkening evening, warming, if you dared to touch it with your finger. Carefully so not to disturb the flame burning the small wick, a gentle touch with my finger tip, just to rid of the numbness of the extremity sore and blue, soon enough, turning into a reddish hue. Warmth spreading throughout the frozen body, feeling alive again after the coldness of the wintry distress, never again, thinking of fire any less.

As earlier the foolish endeavour outside to venture, the fresh cool white powdery stuff from the opened up skies fell down, pouring not tricking, but no pain inflicting. Soft and inviting it looked from the comfortable stance of the window sill, alas, when spending time outside, playing like a kid, clothes soaked through from rolling around in the wet and cold snow, soon the voices of cheer got awfully low. Coughing and sneezing, breath, wheezing. Arms, legs, even the fatty butt, starting to get numb. The only option, was stop all the fun, and run inside, or at least crawl, as there was no getting up from the fall.

So, now, remaining inside, while others might go wild, of the changed environment, so fresh and crispy and inviting. But, knowing better than to dare again, venture out here, where freezing is the possibility, no, the inevitability, rather staying here, by the hypnotising warm and soothing fire without dire.

Snowy road

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“There is so much snow out there today, that you will need a sleigh, to make it through, which is not bad at all” Gun Roswell

Snowy road

Snow covered the roadside, as it had been pouring the night before, during, a storm. The surrounding fields, laid under, a soft blanket, woven in threads of white, all of it, looking like something of a holiday book, the seasonal nook, to lay comfortably on. But what ever looks good, is not always putting you in the best of moods, as there was still the road to tackle, and as it was, much like the surrounding grounds, a mass of white powder, rather than a set of clear tracks. What to do now, as the trip to the nearest shop was not plowed? There were a few options, coming to mind, some of them, none too kind, like pouring hot water all over the place, but what was the point, as freezing would only result in using skates, but those were clearly out of shape. Then the pair of skis, against the wall standing, made of some old tree. Nope, the poles were gone, so sliding with a wooden frame under your feet, seemed too much of a feat. When all hope seemed to be gone, one hopeful thing appeared, from the very rear, of the open shed, visible only while looking really carefully. An old sledge, just there, on the edge! On closer inspection, it seemed to be in pretty good condition, considering it had not been used, in many years since the past, when all of us adults, were kids and thus, riding the ridges, like having plenty of fire under our bridges. But reminisce aside, this would be our very ride, taking us across the snowy roads, with a small sleigh in our tow.

Across the snowy bridge

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“The winter time can be quite magical, if you let it be” Gun Roswell

Across the snowy bridge

Not quite frozen but not really flowing either, the slow flowing creek now, in the middle of the winter. As the snow covering it, could be just a trick, tempting to step on it, even if none too safe at that. But, thinking of it really carefully and acting accordingly, maybe a safe passage across the Schrödingers’ bridge dilemma of a watery way, could be solved in a fashion without missing the play. A large tree, just up the creek, might just be the answer to that which you seek, as a tall branch once, now laid on the ground, acting like a makeshift bridge, as if it was simply made for exactly this. Snowy and slippery it was, but crossing it, would be a blast, an adventure in the middle of the winter, although, maybe with a few splinters. And that was the magical thing of it all, as you never really could be sure as to what to expect, so better always to be, watching that next step before leap.

A hidden message in the fresh snow

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“A smiley face inside a heart, drawn in the fresh snow – just a simple reminder of happiness and love” Gun Roswell

A hidden message in the fresh snow

A child’s play or an adults joke, was right there, in plain sight, just to poke, those familiar feelings, long since forgotten, dormant in the depths of the very protected soul of a being, once called human, now only fleeing, from any kind of warm contact. Even, the cool, calm exterior, the stoic stance, was all, just an act, it did not matter because nothing and no one would ever be able to attack, those inner hidden qualities, most of thought now lost for good. But suddenly, the hidden message written in a messy drawing, stirred something there, and now, without any kind of fear, and odd expression emerged from out of nowhere, half scaring the passers by, as it was also included with a loud noise. What on earth? Someone exclaimed, as the laughter and a smile, so filled with life and opened wide. It must have been a sign, that the end of the world was near. Alas, the owner of said oddity, did not care, but stood and stared, at the message and never letting, that good feeling, fade away. Not at least, today. No, but maybe, tomorrow, it would all go back to normal, what ever that meant.

In the middle of the night

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“I like to watch the outside world through my window” Gun Roswell

In the middle of the night

As I sat on the window sill, waiting, and quite still
In my usual spot, which I mostly these days, tend to fill
The hour way past midnight, could be, of a fright
But hey, for me this time, always feels, quite alright
As no one and nothing, out there, ever stirs
As during the day, it all just looks like a big blur
Not this moment though, as not a friend nor a foe
Dares to go, outside and in to the cold frozen snow
And only me, myself and I, dare to look out there
As the flakes at first kind of slowly, all over fell
But before I had a chance of thought, on all of it dwell
The storm soon enough began, its might to expand
The power so magnificent, leaving no branch unbent
And I felt exhilarated and totally alive the more I spent
My time there, in my very spot, watching, learning
As the world outside with cold white, was burning

Peekaboo, through the view

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“There is snow on the ground again, a lot of it!” Gun Roswell

Peekaboo, through the view

A forestry type setting
As the son slowly letting
The change of something
Quite new and alluring
White and crispy clean
Still untouched not seen
The view from behind
The trees to a divine
Setting from a fairytale
Which is not for sale
And lasting only for a while
And then it’s gone with a cry
But even if you manage somehow
To capture the image right no
You can see much more
Than any picture has in store
A moment of perfection
Fleeting by to a direction
New and most likely fine