Saturday, December 31, 2011

Farm Auction

A little glimpse of my next story.

The auctioneer gave a brief description of the tractor. Darren knew all the rest of the details. What if I don't get it. What if I haven't saved enough. I have to have this tractor. For Abes sake. It was his first tractor and I want it to be my first tractor too. So many thoughts went through Darren's mind.
"Where would you like to start the bidding folks?" the auctioneer questioned.
There was silence. No one bid and no one moved. Darren had always been taught to wait and see how the bidding went. Time seemed to stand still. Why was everyone so quiet? Darren waited patiently.
"Do I hear one thousand dollars? This tractor is worth a lot more than that. Come on folks, get your hands out of your pockets and start bidding, " the auctioneer commented.
Darren couldn't believe it. No one was bidding. The auctioneer tried one more time. Again, no one responded. Darren didn't know what to do. He couldn't let the tractor go by.
"Well folks, I'm going to have to pass by this one. It's a shame, she's a beauty," the auctioneer stated with disappointment in his voice.
Darren couldn't hold back any longer. Out of his mouth blurted, "I'll buy it. I'll start the bidding at one hundred dollars."
"We have a bid, " the auctioneer announced. "One hundred dollars. Do I hear two hundred. Two hundred dollars. Two, two, two, two. Come on folks, this is a fine piece of machinery. Two, two, two, two. One fifty, one fifty, one fifty."
Darren looked around in disbelief. No one was bidding. What was wrong? The auctioneer gave one more try.
"I've got a one hundred dollar bid. Do I hear one twenty five? One twenty five, one twenty five, one twenty five, " the auctioneer questioned.
No response came from the crowd.
The auctioneer broke the silence by saying, "Well, I guess I'm just going to have to sell her to this young fella here for one hundred dollars. Going once, going twice, sold to our one hundred dollar bidder. Your number please?"
Darren held up his number, 01. It was recorded by the auctioneers assistant.
"You've got yourself a ..........

Hopefully I get this published and you can hear why no one was bidding.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

My Dad has won the Lottery.

     Well not the lottery that gives you lots of money but the one that gives you life. Dad is eighty five years old and is living a relatively pain free life in his own little house. He has family around him that take care of his every whim and wish. Since he moved to Drayton a few years ago his life has changed for the better. Dad has a social life that he diligently takes care of ; Coffee at the "Crest" every Tuesday and Thursday, Fellowship on Sunday at a tiny old Anglican Church (Does not even have plumbing). He seems happy and content. What more could you wish for in life. To make it to eighty five with your health and dignity intact. Family and friends that care about you.  Many people are not that lucky.

Rosemary & Dad - July 2011

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Excerpt from my novel

This is one of the chapters I've written for my seat-of-the-pants novel! Not sure where in the story this will be but it will be somewhere! Thanks for indulging me!


Brent watched Taylor throughout the entire funeral. She looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. In a sense, she did. Her whole world was about to change. Colin may not have been the best husband but he was a big part of their lives.

As the congregation filed out to the reception, the family went off to the graveyard to say their last good-byes. Taylor came up to Brent with an earnest look in her eyes.

"Brent, please come with us. You are practically family. Please?" She touched his arm. Her eyes looked particularly green today. Maybe because she had been crying for the last few days. Brent met her gaze. Her black, conservative dress hugged her petite frame.

"Of course I'll come along. I'll go grab my truck." Brent dug into his pants pocket for his keys.

"No need. Just come in the limo with us. There's lots of room", Taylor insisted. She turned to go. Brent put his hand in hers. She didn't pull away.

The sun shone as a true irony of the day. Brent was glad he had left his jacket at home. He certainly didn't need it as he walked hand in hand with Taylor. This was where he always wanted to be. But as they got closer to the car, Taylor let go to get in. He silently chastised himself for enjoying their connection. This woman lost her husband; her children lost their father; their squad lost an officer. Now was the time to say good-bye.

Taylor got into the car first, with Brent following her. Calleigh sat with her grandmother, crying on her shoulder. Reid sat quietly beside his grandfather. Taylor slid in beside Reid.

"Nana and Papa are going in their car." Taylor turned to Brent. "That's Colin's parents". He nodded an acknowledgement. Taylor continued, "And these are my parents, Abigail and Walter."

Brent leaned over to shake both of their hands.

"My condolences to you both", Brent said compassionately.

"Thank you", Walter said for both of them.

They all sat quietly for the car ride to the cemetery. As they drove, the smell of coconut wafted from Taylor's hair as Brent sat close to her. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about that but he couldn't help it.

Two things were on his mind. He lost a fellow officer and a friend, even if Colin had been a jerk the last little while. This was part of the job. Officers die every day on the job. They prepare you for this in Police College. You know going into it, it can happen. "No matter how much preparation they give you, it's still not easy", Brent thought.

The second thought he had was Taylor of course. Who was going to look after her and the kids? Was she going to move closer to her parents? He looked at the woman across from her. She sat, eyes cast down, staring at the floor of the car. She had her arm around Reid. She leaned across the seat to rub Calleigh's hand.

Brent's attention came back to the present as the car pulled to a stop. Everyone got out except Taylor and Brent. She turned to him and put her hand on Brent's knee. An electric current shot through him. His eyes met hers.

"Thank you", she said quietly. He put his hand on hers and smiled at her in response. He didn't trust his voice right now. He wanted to keep his hand on hers forever. But he pulled away as she did. Taylor climbed out of the car and Brent followed. She went up to her children and took their hands in hers.

"Let's go say good bye to Dad, okay?", she said with a quivering voice. She began to walk to the grave site but glanced back to make sure Brent was coming. He was only steps behind them.

Friday, December 9, 2011

Some Thoughts on Thoughts...

Hello all,
I thought I would do my homework assignment for this month which is posting something on this blog, so here goes...
I've been doing a lot of thinking about thinking today. It is the beginning of anything and everything ever written or done, yet how often do we really think about thinking? As writers I'm sure we all agree, before pen touches paper, or in this generation, before fingers touch keyboards we have thought about what we would like to say and how best to say it.
Where do these thoughts come from? The short answer, from life. We all have our own personal answers from that point on.
Today I have been pondering the importance of a healthy thought-life. It affects everything we do and who we are. To keep our bodies healthy we need to make wise food choices. To keep our minds healthy we also need to make wise 'food' choices. Are we caring for our minds in the same way we care for our bodies?
My train of thought was sparked by today's devotion in The Daily Bread. 1 Kings ch. 3, the story of God granting Solomon (as a child) whatever he wished for and Solomon asked for wisdom. I wonder what Solomon fed his mind to ask at such a young age for a discerning heart.
Here are some of my...

Thoughts about Thoughts...

Behind our eyes
Intricately designed
Is an infinite cell
Simply called a mind
And from it will flow
All manner of thought
Our action will show
What words do not


In every action
In every deed
Whether minute or mighty
Thought is its seed


Do we serve thought?
Or are we its master?
Thought is the forerunner
To success or disaster


I thought I knew a little
But with each passing year
The little bit I thought I knew
Has seemed to disappear


My thoughts are always more beautiful
With you in them


What is the measure
Of one little thought?
Coupled with action
I believe…quite a lot!


Who can know the power
Of the mind at all
By it man becomes great
And by it great men fall


The power of a man
Cannot be defined
By physical attributes
But the strength of the mind


Physical strength, no matter how fine
Is oft overcome by weakness of mind...


What are you thinking about today?

Janet Martin