Saturdays, what a total waste

“It’s another Saturday again, so yeah, where did the time go?” Gun Roswell 

Saturdays, what a total waste

The day supposedly to be a day of leisure, something to have as a recharge from the grind of the week, alas the home work awaiting, never lets off its grip, always on the back burner, always reminding of the never ending chores, never a moment to relax, even if exhaustion has taken its permanent place in the mind of this one, speaking, always freaking about it all, never finding peace, no matter how much sleep is put in after having list so much during the week, but soon the Sunday is there, Monday following suit and then the circle is complete, another weekend wasted, while doing nothing but thinking, of the load still pending and piling up realty, really fast, the only thing which really lasts, are the tasks never ending.

Shadows reflected

“A family of ducks, did their feathers pluck, in the middle of the lake, which as no fake, and with the serene waters quite still, as the ducks always came there to chill“ Gun Roswell

Shadows reflected

The birds, the insects, even a few daring peoples, usually wandered off to the near by lake, just to take, a surface dive, on the water’s edge, being none to deep, it was easy to simply in the bottom of it to sit, cooling down after a long day doing whatever, but as soon as they had reached the blue liquid place, their minds, totally went into a different state, the same for all the animals, humans and other types alike, nothing to put away the daily strife, but into a calming blue water taking a shallow dive.

The moon noir

“The night or the day, no matter which way you decide to cypher it, the moon is out there, hanging above even if somewhat dimly lit“ Gun Roswell 

The moon noir

The moon was out, hanging above in the clear blue sky, nothing there to spy, not really, but it could have as easily have been in the middle of the night, as the light, was so dim.

Either because of the timing, being that of summer, the day never ending, and so day or night, all the same, as the sun and moon together keeps on spinning.

Or then, it was the day of a ver dark and dreary autumn month, the shades blurring in together, to each other, the shadow, the light, all the grey shades of neither and then both, the monochrome, the noir, all of it one simple colour.

Whatever it is you see up there with your own bare eyes, is the truth, whether the sky is blue, or pitch black dark, the moon is always there, looking mighty smart.

Ever Upward towards the Clouds

“The chairs are leading upwards, towards the skies perhaps? Or at least, to the above floors of the house” Gun Roswell

Ever Upward towards the Clouds

The stairway either with a banister or not, made out of metal, stone or wood, leading the climber ever upward, unless they are on their way down. But mostly the spectators interest lies on the way towards the skies.

But to what kind of end? What could possibly be the goal achieved in getting here? Why would one want to get ever up higher? Are they trying to reach the skies or something else, somehow similarly compliant?

Maybe they are looking for some hidden treasure? Hidden on top of the low hanging clouds, which the skies are some days in shrouded? 

What of the fact that it is a cloudless clear day? Would it serve any kind of purpose in trying to get up there, without one single cloud in sight? Doing the upward fight simply out of spite? Just because it is there, the stairs?

Whatever the reason might just be, for those whom a higher ground might just seek, even if a tactical stance in mind, it does not matter, as we don’t need to know, as long as we can wait for them back, here below.

Coffee, the one and true life saviour


“There is nothing more invigorating, than the smell of fresh brew in the early morning hours, when stumbling out of the bed, half asleep. It is the only medicine for the cure of not being awake.” Gun Roswell

Coffee, the one and true life saviour

The early morning hours, never the easy ones for this sleeping ugly, because that is the correct word to describe the monstrous thing getting out under the covers and stepping their giant feet to the cold floor, nothing pretty to be seen, only scowls, snide remarks upon being dressed and worse remarks and quips if being asked. Surely, not a morning being, at all.

But, that will all change, once the medicined kicks in. And by that is meant, the one and only true healer, the saviour of it all, the one which can the biggest mountains make one move, and then to put on the daily groove, to any annoyed and sleep deprived person, the big uncooperative monster had just become during the night time.

Alas, the smallest scent will make the sleepy entity hell bent, on getting up and down stairs, bursting into the kitchen with nostrils flaring, taking a deep breath, inhaling the elixir of life, taking a sip, savouring the taste, then another soon to follow, until finally, the whole cup is drained of the darkest of brews, and then only, will do, a conversation or any other query, if feeling daring, as this is just the first cup, after all.

A view from the stern of the boat

“The setting sun left behind, the bow set towards the night, sailing across the high seas, to the pending darkness, but for now, the warmth of the shiny ball is still on our backs“ Gun Roswell

A view from the stern of the boat

The splashing waves causing ripples onto the water’s surface, the sunny rays reflected, without a real purpose, but it does not make it any less appealing, watching the powerful waves, on display, as the boat keeps on moving along, following a set trail, with the sails in full, the blowing winds giving the power needed, to the forward momentum, otherwise the ores would be needed, the manpower alone currently on board, too little to do the deed, thankfully though, Mother Nature has given the means, and so, to her graces we lean, taking us to new lands beyond the horizon, the day ending on this vista, but the next, might just give us more, shiny suns across the board, the blue skies and warm winds, that might just be the score.

Rocking around the warm fire (old school style)

“Somewhere in ancient times, people used to hang around the open fires, in the darkened rooms, rocking the night away, in a chair“ Gun Roswell 

Rocking around the warm fire (old school style)

The old school home, with its old school decor and old school ways odd spending the evening, at home, quietly, together, the whole family seated in a circle, around the open, warming fire, the matriarch of the family, in her rocking chair, sharing all them stories from the distant past, just like it was, the tradition since way back, the oral history shared to all, as at some point, the very duty would fall, onto the children when all grown up and so the circle of life continued, in the olden days.

Old barn holds its own charge  

“The ancient looking barn, might look a tad worn, but it’s still in charge, storing treasures on the inside?” Gun Roswell 

Old barn holds its own charge  

It may look somewhat, run down, but before you frown, just take a look inside, because it looks totally fine, and as to the why this is so?

Well, it might just be, because it was all refurbished, well, just a tad, nothing too rad, just the inside modernised and the outside left as it once was.


And so now, the lesson learnt, which is even old school dwellings can be turned, to liveable quarters and more, just because, tearing down something beautiful, is never a good option.

Dinner time in ancient times

“The daily meal, at the end of a very long working day, was the one to be had with family, in the ancient times” Gun Roswell

Dinner time in ancient times

The daily grind in the fields are done, as farming is the livelihood, for this specific family, living in the neighbourhood, well, not that there really is one, just a small splattering of hard working families doing their thing to get through life in the harsh world of the past.

And so, gathering around the large table of the small cottage they all live in, the meal prepared from their own doings, the land providing all that which is needed, just the get by, to be fed to be able to carry on their farming, on the land around them. As the circle of life of the past, keeps rolling, along each passing day.

Another Rocker of a Chair to sit on

“A seat, not with wheels, but something better, which leads to a rocking motion, soothing and well, perhaps lulling the seated one, to a sleepy existence” Gun Roswell

Another Rocker of a Chair to sit on

The old school chair, still has its lure, the oddly shaped legs of it, not really the four excepted, rather reminiscent more of a sleigh, gliding across the floor, but still, remaining where it was laid.

The rocking back and forth, might just seem odd, then again, if the sitter, lets its affects gain control, on the body and perhaps even the soul, then soon enough, a sense of calm will be gained and then, falling asleep somewhat deep or perhaps not, but at least a nap of sorts. 

And it will all be thanks, to this rocker of a chair from the past.