lovely woodpecker’s rat-a-tat-tat heralding spring
He shows up every morning, tapping and tapping without fail. His little red crest bobbing to and fro; he’s putting on quite a show. Not looking for food, no not this one, a girl of his own is what he wants and soon.
So, early in the morning and sometimes at dusk; my little friend is out there making a fuss. Night turns into day and day to dusk and the little red-crested woodpecker never gives up. The days grow warmer, the days grow longer. Fragrant flowers bloom around him and then; two red-crested heads bobbing together – they’re making a lovely nest!
In response to Lady Jabberwocky’s Prompt of the Week: Letters from CAMP
The little girl from two campsites down ran up and asked if she could pet my dog. My sweet girl sat quietly beside me, until I told her she could go say hello. Upon being verbally released by my voice, my sweet girl slowly lifted her huge one hundred and twenty-five pound body off the ground and approached the visiting girl; who now stood stock still with her eyes wide and her mouth frozen in a silent “Oh.”
I explained that my girl was very gentle and loved to be scratched under her chin and behind her ears. When the little girl didn’t move, my sweet girl promptly laid down, rolled over and presented her tummy to the little visitor.
They became fast friends after that. Whenever the child came to visit, my sweet girl would lay down immediately, so her little girl friend could scratch her belly while sitting on the ground beside her.
It was on the third day the little girl asked what kind of dog my sweet girl was, because she’d never seen a dog so big before. I explained that she was a mix of a domesticated wolf and a domesticated dog. I used the word domesticated only in explanation to her that none of the animals involved came from the wild.
For four solid days the child came and spent hours sitting with, petting and playing with my sweet, gentle girl. On the fifth day, the child did not visit but, I could see their very large, brand-new RV was still parked in its camping spot.
Around mid-afternoon, however, I did have some visitors. Two police vehicles and one animal control truck rolled up in front of my camper, blocking my drive. My sweet girl and I were inside my camper, eating our lunches. The knock on my old steel camper door was none too light.
It was the animal control person who asked me to step out of my camper, which I did. She asked me if I was housing a wolf in my camper, to which I answered truthfully, no. Then she said they had a report of a dangerous animal being kept on my premises illegally.
I calmly explained that I owned a very gentle female five year old wolfdog, whom I had owned since she was five weeks old. I also explained that I lived in my camper 24/7 with my sweet girl and the campground and surrounding camp residents knew about and loved her.
I was asked to show them documentation of her vaccinations, and any licenses I carried. I allowed them to look over all of my sweet girls legal documents. When they finished scrutinizing those, I showed them her Canine Good Citizenship Award as well as her graduation papers for completing puppy and then advanced obedience training.
By this time the two policemen had gotten out of their cars and were petting and playing gently with my sweet girl. An hour later the legal entourage departed satisfied and all smiles.
Two hours after that, I had packed up my RV, disconnected all my hook-up’s, filled my propane and gas tank, emptied our waste tanks and my sweet girl and I were on the road, again.
Prologue: Adding a picture of my “little” girl upon request.
We were told to stand in line, hips turned slightly to the right. The modeling coach walked by each one of us, adjusting a shoulder there, a hip there.
She moved in front of me, I smiled in greeting. She sighed and said,
“I don’t want a friend. I want sexy, provocative!”
Genre: Fiction Title: Breakfast for Two Word Count: 100
I was literally so excited all week, I could barely function. I found myself starting to cook breakfast for him days before it was time for our second Sunday morning breakfast date. Finally, after days and days of worrying over what placemats to use, where the silverware was supposed to be placed; was it salad fork first or spoon? No, spoon goes over the plate, appetizer fork first. Not having appetizers before breakfast. Silly me. We were drinking Mimosa’s made with fresh juice I’d squeezed myself. The doorbell rang, he was here! That’s when the emergency sirens blared to life.
Wednesday April 20, 2022 Prompt via Bartholomew Barker that was a combo of the NaNoWriMo prompt and the April Poem-a-Day Challenge prompt from Write Better Poetry. Write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food, using at least three of the following six words; or go for extra credit and use all six: Content, Double, Guide, Meet, Pump, Suit.
Content I was without it In fact, I could nearly fit into my new double breasted suit.
But no, you had to guide me to where that chocolate meets the top of that luscious glazed air baked donut, shop.
The one that pumps air into their donuts, making them light and fluffy and sweet and oh so good.
Foul thing you are, you heavenly warmed, melted chocolate running down the glazed donut sides.
Calling to me in my waking hours, beckoning me in the night to eat, eat, even as that blasted insulin needle sticks!
One-Liner Wednesday – April 20, 2022 Hosted by Linda G. Hill If you would like to participate in this prompt, feel free to use the “One-Liner Wednesday” title in your post then you can ping back there to help your blog get more exposure.
Remember never to throw stones, they most likely will get thrown back at you and with better aim! Gypsie-Ami Offenbacher-Ferris
Pointing in wonder at the huge thing made of fiberglass, fabric and optical lights behind the thick glass in the museum display, the youngest boy asked his dad what it was.
The dad looked up and could not believe how tall it was or that something living could ever get so big.
Amazed, he turned to his own dad, the youngest boys Grandpa and asked if he knew what the thing was that had captured the rapt attention of all of them.
Their grandpa strained to lift his head, his arthritic neck complaining so loudly, they all heard the ominous popping of his joints as he looked up and up higher and higher.
When his eyes finally reached the top, a small tear formed in his hazy eye when he told them it had been nearly a hundred years since he had seen one.
His eyes grew misty as he remembered and told them a story with love and longing how these used to grow by the thousands, created forests and woods and homes for all the wild creatures of the earth and he said with subdued reverence, that’s a replication of a tree my loves, extinct so long ago I’m sad to say and all the children echoed his word with innocent adulation, tree.
Gypsie’s Wonderful World of Words 