Eleven Twelve Eleven

Today was an uninteresting day in our bedroom, painting walls, until our neighbor appeared and attacked all the trees and the electricity pole in his back yard with a broom handle. That was pretty interesting. It looked like he had a special formula which he played out on each defenseless foe, in turn. I know he’s finished the last book in the Eragon cycle, so that might be the reason. Then he threw his stick on the ground and ripped his hunting knife out and jabbed at the pole for five minutes, then he sheathed his knife and threw something into the woods. I was fascinated. Tasha wouldn’t come and look. She was painting. When he picked up his stick, tapped at the pole a few more times and turned around, I dropped flat under the window, paintbrush and all. Tasha found me there when she came back in the room from getting something. She had to convince me to get off the floor.

I think he attacked his car too.

Couple days ago, I stepped into the sunroom to get something from the fridge and a dead coon was lying in the center of the cement floor. It looked cold and dejected, as if it had lain down to sleep off its qualms. I prodded it with my foot and deduced that it was more than a few hours dead.

Turns out our neighbor boy who read Eragon hit it with his car backing out of the driveway, so he gave it to us, which was nice.

Calvin skinned it today and cut up the meat for our chickens. It makes them lay better eggs. Most people don’t know that chickens are carnivores, but now you do. They aren’t meant to live on corn alone, any more than I am.

Well, what else do I have to say, only that I like blogging – if you don’t mind me writing nonsense. It helps develop my skills and style. One day, Lord willing, I’ll write something good. Until then, it’s all nonsense.

I like people too. People are the most important things in stories. I don’t read stories without them. And I don’t read stories where they don’t talk either. People are why we enjoy ourselves at church and at home. I like this: “Audrey, give me the truck!” better than this: Paul told Audrey to give him the truck.

I like sitting on my bed, because it’s comfortable and warm, to read The Count of Monte Cristo. [I haven’t touched that book for months, owing to many pressing commitments and reading being low on the list, but finally did so, as of yesterday, and have read two-hundred-eighty pages out of the fifteen-hundred. I’m immensely enjoying it. There’s lots of talking.] I don’t read in my bedroom in summer, because in the summer the sun is in a certain spot in the sky and doesn’t shine through the window and the maple tree has too many leaves on its branches. I like fall and winter best in my room, because then the sun changes places in the sky and the leaves turn yellow and fall off the tree. We get sunbeams on our wall. On the new, yellow paint. The yellow leaves on the black branches outside our window in contrast with our dark red wall I must say is beautiful.  

Lots of things to say, I’m sure, but I must get to bed. I have to sleep on the carpet in the library room with Tasha, because we don’t want to die in our beds of paint fumes. Actually, the reason is only that it smells bad and I am in there right now and I’d like to go back to the library, thank you.

 [Photo courtesy of Tasha]