Snowy white suburbia

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“Snow on the outside? Cold outside? Below freezing temperatures? What on world is that all about? Duh – Winter!” Gun Roswell

Snowy white suburbia

Opening the front door to a brand new world or so it seems, as if into some fantasy kind of a strange world, I had been over night suddenly hurled? Looking all white and crispy, with a clean and glittering cover on top, all places in the same shade, nothing dirty or misplaced, as only this gorgeous cover of the winter had been smote all over the globe, well at least on this part here, way, way up in the North. And even if this last for a long long while, longer than the accompanying smile of all the dire the cold weather front will bring with it, and the summer season is totally short, that will elicit a soft snort in sarcastic tone, as it can hardly be called a season, rather a sense of treason as it last so short, but the winter, well, it is still pretty and fun, at least for the while and in the pictures and poetry, perhaps also as an excuse to remain indoors most of the time. But for us tough Northerners, this is the way of life, and well, it might be a strife, but it’s nice to curl up inside with the warmth of the comfy fire right beside, and then do absolutely nothing, for a while at least, because winter, gives the excuse to anti socialise!

Snow and the trees 

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”The snow falling on the trees and branches is making the forest look like an imaginary winter land, but not a wonder one though” Gun Roswell 

Snow and the trees 

The flakes are pouring down from the high heavens, landing all over the place, but especially on the tree tops in their race to conquer the world during this wintery swirl, nothing remains untouched as the goal is to get it all covered by so much snow, that those below, the dwellers, the animals the nature itself, will soon be in a white blanket laying undisturbed.

But a few greens here and there, dare to peek out from under the covers so light, while ruffling their spiky feathers, these pine trees will not submit or yield to the fight of the dominance of being under a flaky garment, not all over them anyway, rather letting these freaky flakes know, they are still there to be seen, at least, on some level, even if they would be, totally different from the rest of their surroundings, but they are only laughing if someone would say such a thing out loud, as feeling proud in whom they are, the piny trees fight back.

Skiing along the snowy lake

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Finland

“The sun is finally shining, so stop that whining and get outside, grab a pair of skates or skis and see where life will lead” Gun Roswell 

Skiing along the snowy lake

The winter might be harsh and cold, but for the dating and bold, but it still has a lot to offer.

It is as simple as if you are willing to put on some warm clothing, then picking up that most favourite sport thing, a pair of skates perhaps, or some skis from the old shed, where your memory has you led, of all those fun filled days of yesteryear, when there was no fear at all to try on some winter’s fun, perhaps playing a game on the ice or riding down hill a sleigh ever so fine.

But those days are gone now and you can feel it in the old bones., complaining and creaking and done place soft and warm seeking, but before you completely let go of those almost forgotten dreams, why not take one more ride, just along the frozen stream, let the child within run free for the moment, as not all life needs to be dreary and torment.

So, whatever fancy’s there for the winter’s fun, just get it done, before it is too late and filled your mind with regret will be from now on.

Sprinkles of snow 

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“The snow slowly falls, everywhere though, sprinkling small sparkles of dusty looking particles all around and everywhere, not one place uncovered by this phenomena of winter“ Gun Roswell

Sprinkles of snow 

The weather playing tricks on the onlooker, standing safely in the window looking outside from the comfort of the warm inside as the soft white flakes prancing and dancing about in the cold of the winter’s air, looking like small fairies bouncing back and forth, before they settle gently onto the surfaces they have chosen as their resting place. 

None of the creations of nature safe from the snow filled cheer, as the plot thickens while the flakes keep on playing their game of song and dance, before taking their place in the world wide blanket of white, making the onlooker smile as the outcome of this play displayed from the large window’s view, is quite pretty and cool.

As there is no rush to go outside, even if the newly formed cover would so like, either walking or skiing or perhaps a snow angel to be making, still, the onlooker remains inside, as it is actually, despite being pretty, way too cold and crispy, to even consider the odd stroll out there. So for now, the spectacle will be, looked at but not touched, at least, for now.

Night lights

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“There is total comfort in the street lights when the darkness of the night descends“ Gun Roswell 

Night lights

The rain had been pouring for a long while, but for now it was finally calming down, giving, a brief moment to enjoy the evening time. The crisp and fresh feeling weather despite the overall darkness holding on like a tight tether to the weary walker outside in the complete darkness with only the street lights to on rely. For the very moment, that was simply fine, as there was enough of the brightly lit street lights to guide the solemn traveler of the night.

The reflections and the shadows on the puddles left behind of the storm now gone at least for now. Nobody else about the darkened alleyways, not even a dog walker would have dared to step outside, not because of the scare of the ever changing weather, but only because they might spot someone else there, during these antisocial times and that experience would have been more scary, than anything else the dark night would throw their way. 

Alas, the one single dare devil, keeps on walking under the shadow casting night lights, the streets now empty, the traveller is free to roam wherever they have the willpower to try. A true night dweller if anyone, only this one, keeps their pace up with all the shining night lights, unafraid of anything they might encounter, not even a fellow member of this special club of walkers in the darkness of the night.

Completely drained

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“Sometimes things just fall down the drain and there is nothing to do except to flush the toilet and start again” Gun Roswell

Completely drained

When it all gets just a bit too much, and such, when even waking up, is a complete and utter chore, the bore of the day ahead just won’t do its thing, the moment when waking up and wanting to happily sing, just like in the movies, but who needs to be chipper all the time, especially during those times, when all is not fine and the feeling of blues, simply keeps on going, and even if saying it out loud sounds boring, that is simply the way, it is. All of it, the feelings, the power, the ol’ muscles, completely drained, like a fake battery you bought from a dollar store, fading really fast, only hoping the sensation too long won’t last, at leas, that is the goal, to get past, this sinking feeling, literally being in a sink and falling hard and deep down that curving drain, to be sucked down together with all that dirty water, and then finding oneself in the sewage with the rest of the discarded and disdained. But hey, maybe I will make some friends when down there!

Blue and white moment

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“The moment of blue has descended onto the crispy clean white of winter” Gun Roswell

Blue and white moment

The very late hours of the sparse daylight during the seasonal region and setting sun, in the midst of a winter’s day, in the middle of the thickest forest to be found just over the horizon before the moon rising. A place where the winter wonderland still remains in tact and do not lack the magic of the nature, where the crispy whites turning into something completely else in the changing shadows between the very cold and between light and darkness. It is the moment of blue descending without warning of any kind, just to remind of the power of the weather gods churning this time of ours. But certainly there is nobody below, daring to scorn of this very fact, as this time upon is both calming to the spirit and soothing in ways never imagined. And so, simply being there, in the dense forest of white at this point in time, would make anyone feel oh so very fine despite the cold temperatures of the winter, as simply experiencing this moment would make you all warm and fuzzy inside.

Aliens ate my tarts

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aliens ate my tarts

“Baking some nice pastries, for the sweet tooth on a Saturday noon, then finding out, how those turned out in the oven, is a whole other matter“ Gun Roswell

Aliens ate my tarts

When the hunger for something sweet beckons, and to the freezer beckons, searching for some ingredients to whip up something real quick, before getting totally sick and delirious when the craving gets too much and such so then, finally finding some old and thankfully not yet mouldy supplies, putting them to getter for a few sweet pies. Shoving the lot into the oven and hoping the heck something of them coming out, a tasty treat for me to snack on, and in no time at all, the ding of the clock, indicating it is done, and so, it’s only a matter of moments before the treats are good and ready to eat.

Turning my back for mere moments, just enough time to make some coffee to go along with it and then ready with the dark liquid to pick up those sweet treats and what do I find? All of them gone, gone, gone! Nothing left except the face like a calling card of sorts. And when I looked at it I could clearly see, as to whom was the thief of my supposed tasty treats – Those darned aliens! They damned well ate all my sweet tarts!

Nightly window view in Winter

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“The snow, makes all the difference, don’t you think” Gun Roswell

Nightly window view in Winter

It was once again that time of the season, when for some reason
The expectance of having some much needed snow on the ground
Even if the weather forecast predicted it was nowhere to be found
But those hopeful ones, who dared to wish and upon a star dish
Their deepest and most sacred desires, before they would expire
And so, as the night time once again, like every day, on time fell
Some of the fans of winter, remained seated, by the window sill
And all of a sudden, all their wishes were granted, to the very hilt
As the solemn flakes of frozen ice, across the chilly air, were spied
And where there was one, soon enough, more would definitely follow
Leaving the autumn, grey dull coloured ground anything but hollow
And in the early morning hours, gleeful the cheers of big and small
Were heard where ever anyone looked out of their windows small
The snow had finally landed, and the season just got a whole lot grander

What ever floats in my mind! Part Two

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“Every writer I know has trouble writing” Joseph Heller

What ever floats in my mind!

I woke up, when I was born, no sooner, no later. That was as stupid an opening line as “Once upon a time” or “It was a cold and rainy night”, but I thought I was being clever in starting the tale with a joke. You who follow my writing may have noticed the humouristic twist in most tales, at least at some point. For the life of me, I cannot write serious, not matter how I try. Maybe I would have a career in joke writing or scetches for “Saturday Night Live” or similar shows.

OK, so the agreed process for this tale is: Absolutely no censorship in this tale, my mind freely flowing as my fingers do the typing. I am no longer in command of this vessel. What ever is written on these pages is purely fictional as produced by the army of voices living in my head. I was thinking of cheating of course, thinking before writing, plotting my way into this tale.

After emerging from the deep state I was in, I decided to finally let go, to leave it alone, to not think too much and see what will develop. Apart from the typos caused by my fingers not being able to keep up, this is all just a flow of the mind. I know it is crowded in there, despite the fact the sign implies there is “room for rent”. My occupants like to play tricks on me and those who might take a glimpse to my brain.

Funny things those renters of mine. I prefer to use that word rather than thinking this is a permanent situation. I do hope, that, at some point the other voices will take their leave and I can finally make decisions on my own. Whether that be writing or something else. Mostly it is writing though. When I do decide to let go, the writing is usually good, so I really shouldn’t be taking any credit. But someone once said, A good writer borrows, a great writer steals.

Oh, oh, I am stuck now, either the others went on a break or then they are all napping. I am actually wondering how familiar and TV-oriented this sounds. I do sound like a Borg drone from Star Trek, don’t I. “I can’t hear the others, I need the others to survive!” must be the most quoted line in the franchise when the Borg characters are in play.

But I digest, I mean digress ;P

Flow of mind or the lack there of. A while back I wrote a funny note on my mind having too many tabs open. Oddly enough, that was not fiction but fact. I do like to dabble more on the fiction than the fact side, never getting too personal, but I have a warm feeling inside of me. Guess I am safe as long as it doesn’t run down my legs! But so far so good.

So, back to fact or fiction, was that what I was talking about? No, it was the thing of too many things occupying the brain at one point, hence the tabs and open thing. OK, back on track. So yes. That actually has a link to the ever so talked about writer’s block. The only blockage I have or have had for the past fifty odd years is or was the fact that I do censor myself, a lot. I have so many ideas, causing my mind to overflow.

Currently, as I started my writing life for the third and hopefully charmed time, I will let myself write what ever I want, who ever I want and where ever I want. Sans all the self doubt, drama and excuses. Oh my! Now I am finally getting serious! I actually got a little serious there a day or so back when I poured my heart and thoughts to a few darker poems. I admit I use humour as a cover and rather than dwelling on real life issues, I crack a joke.

I freely admit to the following personality traits: I am sarcastic, pessimistic, I have a warped sense of humour, I am spontaneous yet conscious, I am lazy, but also industrious, at least when work is concerned, personal life not so much. So now you know. I like to hide but remain right in the open. I talk a lot, but say nothing.

Back to the topic again, (I seem to be loosing the track now constantly), what ever that was, I actually forgot at this point. Oh yes, free flow of the mind. So not a jogy, not a Vulcan, not logical, just your average everyday humanoid being. So that is my life story or sort of story. At least what I came up with today. I guess this is more than four hundred words. I don’t know how much of myself I have revealed in this little mind tale, but read between the lines or over the lines. Somewhere there, between, lies the truth.