Posts Tagged ‘Love’

This photo of a plate made by our younger daughter (the now-art student) when she was quite young.  As an oddball photo needn’t be odd, just one that can’t be easily classified, this definitely qualifies.  I cherish this plate and several others made by her and her older sister, made with and kept with love.

Also, happy birthday to my husband today!  Much love there as well.


Friday Fictioneers: One photo. One hundred words. One story. Any one author.

copyright Dawn Landau

copyright Dawn Landau


Shiiit, I don wanna go to no juvie, so I figure this volunteer thing be what I have to do. Dog rescue be good. Maybe I find me one a them Rottie dawgs or them pit bulls. Then nobody be messin’ wit me!

Trouble is, dat dawg I find be hurtin’ from bein’ made ta fight. She all skinny and stuff and lick ma face ‘n all. All she be wantin’ is some luv. Shiiit! Make me wanna cry ‘n I cain’t be doin’ that! They help me keep her. Now she follow me everywhere. I guess we a lot alike.


This story is dedicated to Janie and Annabelle, the two rescue pit bulls we fostered and would have adopted had we been able to do so at the time.  You can find more posts and photos of them by clicking on “Animals” in the Categories part of my blog.  And a big shoutout to For the Love of Pits, the amazing organization near Cleveland, Ohio that does such stellar work!  They and their dogs are changing the hearts and minds of people and dogs every day!   You guys rock!!

Want to read more stories? Click below.

The weekly gathering of the Fictioneers has commenced. Bring out the halt, the lame, the blind, the murderers and aliens, vampires and vamps. Look carefully and you might see a human or two. Take them all, stir thoroughly, add a dollop of disbelief, a soupçon of silliness. Dip a spoon into the resulting slumgullion: each 100-word recipe meticulously prepared, marvelously rendered, tasty to the tongue. Your personal recipe is solicited or feel free to simply feast and go away replete; perhaps not always uplifted, but with your brain stimulated.


copyright Jan Wayne Fields

(To avoid any more confusion, please ignore the fact that the person in the photo is male and just read the story.  Thanks.)


Holidays were the hardest.

“Daddy, can we go along?”
“OK, you come with me. We’ll let Mom stay home and relax for a bit.”

One drunk driver was all it took…a driver who walked away.

The doorbell rang. Marty, spiraling slowly into dementia, and his daughter (his caretaker), would fill John’s and Emily’s places. On their heels came Annalisa, her ninety-five year old body still obeying her indomitable will, sitting where Gregory’s high chair used to be. Deshuan and his IED-bequeathed artificial legs sat in Jenny’s chair. George’s Down Syndrome face beamed from “Daddy’s” spot.

I sat.

Holy days.

It’s the start of a new year, a year filled with opportunities, including the opportunity to write flash fiction once a week.  If interested, join the authors at Friday Fictioneers.  The photo prompt is posted in the wee hours (if you’re in the U.S.) of each Wednesday morning and you may post your story until the end of the following Tuesday.  Of course, you’re free to simply read, if you prefer not to write.

This week’s photo prompt is from Jean Hays and copyrighted to her.  My story follows. Other stories are linked by clicking on the little link critter at the end of the story.  Like the snowflakes driven by the winds that have pushed our windchills into the too-much-below-zero range this week, my story is light, something to hopefully bring a smile to your face to start the new year.

Begin the Route

Get Your Kicks (a romance in 100 words)

The heady aroma of dark roast tickled her nose, her thoughts floating up with the scent. She was tired of being alone, of only finding losers. She stared out the window…

and there he was, standing on the sidewalk, looking lost. Drop-dead gorgeous, not too tall, built, but with gentle eyes, just what she’d been looking for all her life.

Go for it, girl! Abandoning her brew, she rushed out, approaching slowly, not wanting to be pushy, but not wanting to lose him, either.

“Hey there, good-looking. Are you lost? May I help?”

Tail wagging, his nose nudged her hand.

Celebrating the new year with my husband, foie gras, and a bottle of glorious champagne that was a gift of love.  What a wonderful way to start the new year!

 Write it on your heart that every day is the best day in the year.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson


And now we welcome the new year.  Full of things that have never been.
~Rainer Maria Rilke

The Weekly Photo Challenge theme, “Warmth“, slipped in early today, which is fine, as it allows me time with our daughters. For Christmas, I’m happy if there’s snow and I don’t mind the cold, but I always want family around.  Next to the warmth of God’s love for me, the love of family is the warmth I cherish the most.



Endurance is waiting for your person to emerge from the library, no matter how long it takes.


I’m pretty sure that according to this week’s prompt, we’re all toasting marshmallows (yes, they’re giant-sized) to make s’mores (dark chocolate on mine, please) for Rochelle’s birthday tomorrow. But just in case I’m wrong (or even if I’m right), I’ve included a story, a haibun this week,  for Friday Fictioneers, a confection created from 100 words and mixed each week with other such confections that can be accessed by clicking on the little blue critter at the bottom of the post.  Beware!  Some of these confections might be tricks, rather than treats.  Some will be sweet, others might be sickening.  But you won’t know which is which until you click and read.

So happy birthday, Rochelle.  Thanks for hostessing this diverse group of confectioners and may your birthday be a sweet one.

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

copyright Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

The first leaf fell today,
	lacking even grace of color,
to lie quiescent on the sidewalk
	‘til wind-blown travel claimed it.
Soon millions more will throw themselves
	to willing death,
flaming brightly before reduced to
	crackling beneath feet in futile protest.

Days grow shorter, nights stretch longer,
	nights where passion once flamed brightly,
now passing also into death,
	unwilling on my part,
	kamikaze-like on yours.

The fire that now burns
	devours all the love
	and leaves not even embers
	that soft breath could coax back to life.

Autumn's harbingers
Lie dying before my eyes
Love once green now dead

The seemingly simple premise of Friday Fictioneers is that a photo serves as the inspiration for a story of a mere 100-words.
But then the fun starts.  What part of the photo do you choose?  Do you use the photo in the story or as a jumping-off idea for something completely different?  Dialogue?  Historical fiction?  A story torn from the headlines of the day?
The sky is the proverbial limit.

At the end of my story is the link that will take you to the page with links to all the stories.  So if you’d like to read what other authors have seen in the photo, click there and then dip into what’s on offer

Dee (2)copyright DLovering

I Remember Skies*

I recall the glittering canopy of stars when I

…slept in the tree house with my best friend.

…shinnied up that tree to sneak through my window, avoiding grounding.

…reclined, awash in music and love, at our first-date outdoor concert.

…lay next to you, sated and laughing, in a mountain meadow on our honeymoon.

…camped in the backyard with you and the children.

…thought I’d die from the grief of your death.

In hospice I can’t see the stars. But I know soon I’ll be seeing them again with you.
Letting go now. It’s time.




*With thanks to The Moody Blues and “Your Wildest Dreams”

As it’s almost time for a very special celebration–my 60th birthday– I thought some throwback photos might be fun.  I suppose they should be photos of me as a baby and growing older, but I found these and really like them, so…

Grandparents on my dad's side

Grandparents on my dad’s side

My parents.  Not sure whose dog that is.

My parents. Not sure whose dog that is.

Hold the cursor over the photo to see the caption.