“It’s just like riding a bike! Guess it is, only this time it’s done in snow!” Gun Roswell
Bikes in Winter Times
The several bikes under the tree taking cover from the winter’s deep and tormenting lash of snow, but that is just what it looks like from far away, as these bikes are here to stay, and even totally slay the snows of the winter, never ever fearing the weather, as they have been permanently tethered to this land of cold by their very riders so bold.
So for now, riding along, no matter spring, summer, fall or winter, these bikes and their riders are fierce and do not mind a challenge, not even something bad or ominous foretold. As they take their two wheelers out there, in the open air, peddling gingerly away, as they are not the ones long in one place to stay. And so, no matter the heavy snow fall, the bikes and their bikers stand tall, against the weather gods.
Of course, the shovel is a necessary tool, when packing for the wintery cold, as digging out from the cover light sometimes, cannot be done by hand and well, that might be the only negative, or then it is the ice roads. Then again, spikes to the wheels and thinking of the snow pushing as a sport, the nothing can go wrong for these winter riders.
“There is something to be said about people living their very lives, taking on every adventure, seeking out new things, until their little hearts sing – I hate the lot of them, so sue me!!!“ Gun Roswell
Before there was a Dare Devil, but only the Devil remains
I used to be a Dare Devil, now, I am just a plain ole Devil
Cursing loudly, dooming all those daring venturers to the very pits of hell
Wherever they might just dwell, they know whom they area!
So, with that note, yeah, they will so go far, never minding what this ole Devil had to say.´
Just because they have all those dreams left in them, making them towards their destiny sway
Wanting to take a swing on the tallest branch and then dive into the great unknown without any qualm, doubt or whatever is needed to just do whatever their little rotten heart desires
Supposedly the fire within, and to inspire them to move along with their stunts and what nots.
Yeah, I might have been one of them, once, but not any more
What remains is the bitter punch, and that even is totally a chore to achieve
As once you have left that spicy spirit leave?
Well, there is nothing but bitterness, which will let the broken heart heave
“What’s on TV today? Same old stuff or something more exiting, and I don’t want to see the news, they can be so depressing” Gun Roswell
Cozy fire on TV for the eve
Tried to watch, my favourite TV show, on the tube, alas, out of a fluke, there was nothing on, but a bunch of static accompanied by some white noise, as sung by a flaming voice. What to do? After all, I had prepared myself for an evening for a session of binge watching my favourite TV show, the same old one I had seen so many times before, and which I know almost by heart, still, nothing new or nothing too bold, just the way I like it. Alas, the TV still, did not agree with me, and did not get the signal needed from any of the techno boxes just around it, which were a plentiful to say the least, it seems, the gadgets and devises, in my home, grow and feed, like a beast! But, no matter what I tried, reboot, giving the ole’ boot, almost to the point of shoot, I did not have any luck, in starting that damned f..k of a thing, which would have made my heart sing. As all I wanted for this one silent moment, to enjoy, my shows, without torment.
So, the only thing left to do, part from the seller of this, wretched devise, to sue was to find some other clue, how to spend my well earned time of simple solace. Scratching my head, trying to figure out a better use of my time instead, and then, a thought occurred to me! Why not turn on the fireplace instead and watch the flames dance around! A tube is a tube to watch, even if it wasn’t my favourite sort. After all, this was a simple thing to do, just turn a knob and the fire, well, a mock fire, would ensure, a great past time, at least for a while, before maybe, I would get bored. Unless, I could incorporate, some other type of activity to it, say like reading a book, here in my comfy nook, which so much effort took, to set it up, for my special time to be spent, watching the shows on TV, for this eve. What to do next, now that, was the mystery, bordering a state of hysteria, but hey, using the old noggin, to figure it out, I knew I could, and for that, I am so proud!
Now then, I have finally, settled down for the evening, with a cozy fire, a book, something warm to drink and a few snacks, my teeth in to sink. Thus would start a new past time for me, as something comfy cozy did happen, alas not on TV. But, as long as there are stories to be seen or read, my hunger for different worlds, people and scenarios will be fed and watching that fire dance around, well, that is fun too! Who would have figured that would be the case? Well, now, I do! And totally, recommend it to you too. Oh, and the TV? Well, it is now finally fixed, as it turned out, a cable had been mixed, so as simple as that it was, well, I am still glad, that I had other stuff to watch, rather then the old shows, which I still love, but then again, can’t complain, about the time spent, watching the fire, every now and then, while reading my books, a new look, certainly, for me!
“A cat writing and sipping coffee? Yes, well, like cat keeper, like feline, it’s all good and fine” Gun Roswell
Photo credit Cats of Instagram
The cat who wrote books
With her specs on, and coffee beside there, quite strong, the tabby cat, in her comfortable pullover and hat, neatly sat. The page in front, still empty, but it would not take too long, especially after the dark liquid kicked in, for something really good to come forth. After all, this was not her first round with the ink and blank paper, as several stories already written stood on the bookshelf alone. But this one would be very special, as it was going to about role reversals. A biography of sorts, she made a slight snort, a laughing sound in a kitty cat way, as she turned to look, on the sleepy face, purring contently right beside her. The once keeper, now a content pet, the Hooman of a female, who had this cat let, out of her box and now, the lot, would have the privilege, of reading all them booklets, written by the very cat, who on the bedside sat, sipping coffee and typing with a flow the next number one best seller which would everyones minds blow.
The news are pouring, as the world is loudly roaring, that which is all around an individual happening, nothing or no one it dampening. Someone in utmost urgency shouting “Oh the humanity of it all!” While others, are just shaking their collective heads, simply stating, “Luckily, not in my neighbourhood that kind of ball.” Well, maybe not at this very moment, but don’t hold your breath, it may just be all coming, to a place near you, only, in instalments. Because if you contently wait long enough, all that stuff, visible on the big screen TV, well, that just might happen quite close to home. This warning may chill you to the bone, but head the warnings and all that is bad in the world, and maybe, you’ll be safe and not into the chaos of it all be hurled.
Meanwhile: Somewhere in the corner of the Galaxy, Madam Satan is shivering in fear of the analogy, of the happenings on, the small and remote planet called Earth, on the large view screen of a boob tube. Without much of mirth, stating, quite simply, “I will need to get my refund of that soul I just bought, from that big white coloured house, oh what a louse!” shaking her head, “He is the one, a human one, who is pure with evil and would certainly be too much, even for me to handle!”
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” Charles Dickens
A Christmas Tale of sorts or Can I have some Figgy Puddin’, please?
The year was 1845. I was about ten years of age and working as a stable girl. Our family lived and worked in Lord Hamilton’s manor house. It was Christmas time and as a gift for the servants, the Lord arranged a feast for the staff and their families.
Mommy had the children dressed in their Sunday best. My two brothers were complaining about the stiffness of the shirts. Starch was itchy and could cause rash, especially if one scratched the itch. I had my favourite dress on and my younger sister was a bit jealous of the red and green colouring. She was wearing a plain blue coloured hand me down.
After all the fuzz and hassle with the wardrobe, the whole family was finally set to go to the main house and start with the Christmas dinner. Us servants would be dining in the large kitchen. Several long tables were brought in with extra seats as well. This wasn’t a large household. With around fifteen servants and their families, well not all had children and spouses, all in all around sixty people in total crammed around the tables. The two cooks had had their hands full with the preparations and naturally every one that could had chipped in.
But now it was time for celebration. Everyone was finally sitting down and getting quiet. After grace the noise level rose again. Food containers were passed around and everyone was filling their respective plates. After all, it wasn’t often we got to eat in this manner and variety.
After a while, everyone had cleared their plates and it was time for dessert. My favourite was the Figgy Pudding. If possible I opted for seconds. As I got my plate of the delicious substance before me, I licked my lips and dug into it with gusto. It did not take too long for the food to disappear from my plate.
My mom looked at me with a smirk. I looked back at her and passing my bowl I asked: “Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?”
I was smiling widely, feeling exhilarated, when the bowl was passed back to me with an other helping.
When the final bits were eaten, it was time for the traditional sing along. The farmhand brought out his accordion and after the first few tunes, we all joined in. The evening was spent singing, chatting and finally picking up the tables. We all went back to our dwellings, thanking the Lord for the special meal.
“Step into the portal, open wide, and into, the adventure, of your life” Gun Roswell
The portal
When the portal opens, feel free, to step inside, and take a short ride, to the great unknown, and let your mind, be totally blown. Because once you are onboard, there is no single world out there, you cannot visit. And even if the trip seems most of the times quite dizzy, do not dare to stop and get off, but rather make it, to the very end, as the time in there spent, on this merry go round of a thing, you won’t have missed one precious minute, when the fare is finally over. It’s just like you had started and never even parted, your original destination, still, the accumulation, of experience and memory, is all saved, inside your head, for future reference, or when you will dream, in your bed. The portal, is now closing, but look around, maybe another one, a portal with an adventure, soon enough, can be found.
“Do not forget your history, as it will always keep on, repeating” Gun Roswell
Standing tall, no matter what
Monumentally so, the history ancient and even more recent, keeps on living, in the books, in the movies, even in our very minds, but most of all, it is still strong, out there, in the fields, on the mountains, beneath our very own feet, just look, you really don’t have to long seek. So, so many good and bad reminders, of our own past, but hey, you always take them, as a package, even if with a loud gasp.
All the tall structures, built strong and proudly, to forever last, by our ancestors, without too many tools or even plaster. Some of the structures, still standing, after all the years passing by, laid out on the planes or even elevated high. Despite the weather, the living creatures and nature growing all around, they were meant to last, even if struggling to survive, all those piles, because those are what they mostly are, will remain, long after, all of us, have left.
Rantings Of A Third Kind 