Back in June 2016, I started a new "series" of posts... if you will...
And so on Wednesdays; I've been posting an old photograph to inspire your creativity.
Write a poem!
Plot out a short story.
Have inspiration for a piece of art or composition.... let your artistic soul shine.
--and occasionally I write my own sordid story or poem.
(you can click on the photos in this post to make it larger to see).
~~~
Marge busied herself with the smallest of tasks...
normal little things that wouldn't take normal folks any time at all to do,
took her all day. Sometimes longer.
She would glory in trimming her nails. examining each one as if it was a precious gem, smoothing the rough edges,
looking for pits and dents to file. Adding lotion, buffing the nails... it was an event.
Dusting was an all-day affair. Lifting each object, wiping the nooks and crannies... polishing was even more elaborate.
Which solution to use... which cloth to choose.. you must have the right tools to do the best job.
Laundry was another exploration in the finite as well. Repairing tears, taking out stains...
ironing and folding. ... getting the creases just right. You had to take care if you wanted perfection.
Spring cleaning took on an entirely different bent.
Sorting clothes by color, by size... arranging them all in order in the closet.
Spices must be neatly tucked on shelves in alphabetical order,
soup cans turned so that each would have the label front and center as you open the cupboards...
shoes neatly stacked in order of task they were used for, sitting in a line by the front door.
There was just so much to be done!
She didn't have time for a job... or children... glory no.
How would she fit it all in?
There were recipes to type up and file on index cards, to be placed in her grandmother's favorite metal box
tucked on top of the refrigerator. There were socks to be mended with fine stitching by the fireplace on winter nights.
And so on it went.
She is probably out there still... cataloging books, organizing bureau drawers,
folding towels into precise thirds... checking fruit in grocery stores for exact freshness...
cutting the grass by the flag post with scissors....
Marge busied herself with the smallest of tasks...
normal little things that wouldn't take normal folks any time at all to do,
took her all day. Sometimes longer.
She would glory in trimming her nails. examining each one as if it was a precious gem, smoothing the rough edges,
looking for pits and dents to file. Adding lotion, buffing the nails... it was an event.
Dusting was an all-day affair. Lifting each object, wiping the nooks and crannies... polishing was even more elaborate.
Which solution to use... which cloth to choose.. you must have the right tools to do the best job.
Laundry was another exploration in the finite as well. Repairing tears, taking out stains...
ironing and folding. ... getting the creases just right. You had to take care if you wanted perfection.
Spring cleaning took on an entirely different bent.
Sorting clothes by color, by size... arranging them all in order in the closet.
Spices must be neatly tucked on shelves in alphabetical order,
soup cans turned so that each would have the label front and center as you open the cupboards...
shoes neatly stacked in order of task they were used for, sitting in a line by the front door.
There was just so much to be done!
She didn't have time for a job... or children... glory no.
How would she fit it all in?
There were recipes to type up and file on index cards, to be placed in her grandmother's favorite metal box
tucked on top of the refrigerator. There were socks to be mended with fine stitching by the fireplace on winter nights.
And so on it went.
She is probably out there still... cataloging books, organizing bureau drawers,
folding towels into precise thirds... checking fruit in grocery stores for exact freshness...
cutting the grass by the flag post with scissors....