Saturday, April 23, 2016

The Move

Cora  has no use for the city. She prefers the quiet solitude and noise only made by rushing water along age-old rocks and down to the valley below. Her lover fishes with his spear and gets trout for them to eat. Together they have a life void of the cares and woes that their previous existence was in Boston.
Two years ago they ran from there, even though, the couple had successful careers as attorneys in one of the biggest firms in the state.
Monty was a hard Knox kind of guy when Cora met him in a coffee shot near the Old North Church. He wouldn't normally have given the time of day to anyone. Once he saw Cora though he broke his rule. She was stunning in her grey tweed business suit. She was on her way court as was he.
" Can I pay for that?" He jumped in front of half a dozen people to get up to her at the counter.
"I suppose. Pushy aren't we?" She smiled and gave him a sarcastic tone to her question.
The coffee was purchased and the two headed out the door.
"I know you are at my firm and I have observed you at a distance for about three months now. Normally I just don't push myself on people. This morning, however, I couldn't help it. You have absolutely captivated me." Now this was unexpected Monty just didn't expect what came out of his mouth.
Cora kept walking and he was right with her. Nothing more was said they got in a cab and went off to the courthouse.
The day went on and they met with clients and made their appearances in various courtrooms. Their last cases over and back at the office each tied up the loose ends of the day.
They wound up together again at the elevator and from that moment on and through a series of dates,
dinners, dancing, events and finally meeting each other's families they married and proceeded on as a successful couple until a fateful Friday when Cora had a client who wasn't happy with his verdict. As she packed her briefcase with her case files he returned inside the courtroom unnoticed. He walked up behind her and grabbed her by the throat squeezing as hard as he could. She tried to scream but no sound would come and no success in fighting him off. He pushed her to the floor and finally a court officer came in to pick up papers off of the Judges bench and saw the struggle ran and grabbed the man. Cora coughed and sputtered and worked her way back to her feet. A female officer came in and the judge darted out from behind the door at bench. The officer cuffed the man and led him away.
Judge Terrell was a fatherly type man with snow white hair and fair skin. In his late 50s or so.
"You alright Cora? Perhaps we should call Monty?' He said in a concerned and quiet, calming voice.
Then a shout from the back of the room came. " No need I am here Officer Taylor came after me. I was in the next room. Cora are you alright sweetheart?" He took her in his arms and kissed her. Then looking her over for signs of injury.
"I am alright now." Her voice was raspy, and she was weak in the knees.
" I am taking you to the ER now. We need to have you looked at." Monty escorted her to the car.
In the ER, the doctor found her to be without any severe injury and released her.
At home in their uptown apartment, the two were at the dinner table eating Chinese.
"I am scared now Monty I don't think I can bring myself to walk in that courthouse again."
" I have been considering leaving the firm. I haven't mentioned it before, but now I think it is time since this event has happened." Monty sipped his coffee and took Cora's hand in his.
"Leaving the firm? Yes, I want to go now. Can we move?" Cora would live anywhere at this point just to get away from that monster. This is the first time in her life she was truly terrified.
" I have been staring at a picture in my office at a place in Montana and I think we could make it there and if you didn't want to work you wouldn't have to." He had a paper in his hand with a listing of a 200-acree ranch for sale.
She grabbed the paper from him and they started getting online and checked it out on the Satelite, researched the community. She was all for it.
Three months went by getting their work finished and selling their apartment. They were now in a ranch in Montana. Bakerstown, Montana where the air was clean and fresh and she became a housewife and he a rancher and attorney on the side. His office though wasn't a posh uptown location but a side room on the house. His clients were mainly those in land disputes and ranch issues with a mix if drunk driving and divorce cases.
He started a hobby of collecting Indian artifacts, especially when he started finding arrowheads on the property. He was digging a water hole on back forty and dug some up along with some nice looking rocks. Cora would put those in her flower bed in front of the house. Ranching turned out to be hard work, but here in this peaceful spot they are now tranquil and have been for sometime. They don't miss Boston or their past lives.

Friday, March 25, 2016

The Chicken With Nine Lives Almost

The Chicken With Nine Lives Almost
Nell Trees

When our children were young we bought some dyed feathered baby chicks for Easter. They were so cute. But somehow a critter killed them all except one because the neighbor saw a coon and shot it.  There were no  more missing chicks. We were, however, down to only one. She grew into a nice Rhode Island Red and found a nesting spot in a barrel my husband was trying to start some tomato plants. We named her Henrietta. What a pet she was the boys could pick her up and pet here she would come to the door when you called and we fed her out of our hands. 
One morning I was getting into the car headed to town for errands and then a Bible Study when I started to back down the drive way I heard a loud squawk. Right then I new what had happened I had run over the chicken. I couldn’t even stop to look I just had to keep going. I was trying to figure out how to tell the boys. Every once in a while on the way to town I kept hearing another noise every time I hit a bump on our gravel road. Once I got on the pavement I didn’t hear it any more. 
I parked at this service station and walked into the stores nearby to run my errands. After completing them I returned to the car I waved and spoke to the mechanic standing by the open station garage door. When I put it into gear and started to back out I heard that odd noise again.
I could see the mechanic in my right side view mirror who now was bent over in laughter.
I got out of the car puzzled and asked if he could hear the noise.
“Nancy, he said with tears in his eye, I not only heard it but I can see it. Come over here and you will see what I mean.”
I walked over next to him turned and bent down to see a chicken leg hanging down from just behind the left rear wheel. By this time Sam the station owner came over and saw this unusual site. 
“Sam I said, how can we get thing out from under my car?”
“ I can’t do it I am to tender hearted. Go across the street Ellis is at his auto parts place. He will tackle anything.”
The mechanic that worked for Sam him was helpless. He was having too much fun at my expense and the chicken’s.
Walking over to the Auto Parts store trying to figure out how i was going to deliver this request. Normally at any given time that store wouldn’t have a whole lot of customers in there. This morning, though, you might know it was full. People picking up orders, sitting at the counter browsing through auto part catalogs and folks standing around shooting the preverbal breeze.
I walked up to the counter where Ellis Renfro proprietor of the establishment was.
“Good morning Nancy>” he said with his usual big smile. What do you need today?”
“ Well Ellis I have this chicken stuck under my car and I need you to get it out:”
This brought all conversation in the store to a dead halt because anyone in earshot of that statement had nothing else to offer in the way of stimulating conversation. I certainly didn’t have any other way of conveying the information.
He looked at me as if I had been drinking an alcoholic substance. 
“If you don’t believe me just come out and take a look for yourself.” I led him outside and pointed across the street to my car he got down on his knees on the sidewalk and could very clearly vies the exposed chicken leg hanging down from somewhere up underneath the car frame. 
Probably the only time in his life he was at a lose for words. Then when he got up. He walked across the street and I gave him the key. He backed it up to the tire changing rack and it lifted the back end up. Lying on his back he gently unhedged the other chicken leg from the emergency break cable. The chicken was alive. 
Pat brought a box to put it in and old Pastor Richard, who had been in the store when I presented the problem to Gene and at this point was also laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes offers to put holes in the box so the chicken could get air.
Watching him do this gave me a chill. I told him that the chicken had already been through enough and he should be careful not to stab it it death. 
Finally “ chicken in the box” I proceeded to the bible study. I figured after this fiasco I needed all of the spiritual help I could get.  

I returned home with the living, traumatized chicken and gingerly placed it in the basement. The boys were home from school and I explained to them and my husband what had taken place.

For two weeks we hand fed, watered, and petted that poor little thing until she perked up and started to scratch around again even laying her beautiful brown eggs nesting in the barrel. All was well until……

One morning my husband was in a hurry leaving for court and backed out of the driveway. I was doing laundry in the basement and about thirty minutes after he left he called to tell me he had killed the chicken he saw it in his rearview window legs up in the air dead. My heart sank and I sure didn’t have the heart to go and see for myself. When the kids got home from school I sadly broke the news to them. The cried and went to their rooms to do homework and watch tv.

My husband was delayed coming home because of court taking so long and the boys had already finished supper the phone rang again this time in stead of my husband, which I had anticipated to tell me he was called to a wreck to investigate it was our neighbors asking If we still had a pet chicken. I told him that the thing was run over again by my husband this morning and was dead. He informed me “ no he wasn’t he is running from side to side on the road blind as a bat.” 
I didn’t know what to do then. I did nothing at first mainly because I was in disbelief. Then I decided to go see for myself. When I got to the place the neighbor had described I didn’t find anything there. I don’t know where it went and frankly by that time I didn’t care. I didn’t mention it to the boys either because they would have been sad all over again. 
Moral of this story for me, at least, was never ever get any more livestock.

Monday, September 7, 2015

Dear Diary

Dear Diary
This morning has been spent, with the usual routine by a round of what I call the Deer Game. It usually begins with the appearance of a lovely graceful deer standing at the bottom of my driveway. Serene, peaceful as if to say “here get your camera and shoot me. It will be a photo to bring you joy for years to come.”
So I move from the window and pick up my camera oh so gently and quietly. Gingerly opening the door and when I get to the spot for the shot puff, it is gone. Usually at that moment, the phone rings or some other distraction occur, and I can’t return to it right then. My plan is to sit on the porch and wait for that inspirational moment, but not that moment because the distraction isn't addressed. It is never the kind you can ignore. When I resolve the issue, I look up and out the window, and the elusive deer is looking up at me as if to say “ here I am now is another chance.” This time I pick up my camera and walk to the open door look up, and it had disappeared again.
Another distraction occurs and, this time, I tend to it and give up on the deer. While I am writing this, I am positive that there are twenty at the bottom of my driveway striking  the most beautiful poses, having a party
Photographers dream just waiting. I refuse to succumb to the temptation to get off of this seat and look. It just is a game they have no intention of letting me photograph them. I am stronger that they I can resist and overcome such elementary ruse.
I will show the deer who the superior being is. Hahahaha.
Well, it sounds good doesn’t it and looks good on paper. Total superior declarations. My statements should show some concern for nature and its creatures.

Well, diary that tirade of superiority is over now and I feel better after yesterday at work. Working with these inmates in the prison is just horrid at times. It seems that the inmates have more rights that we do.
Most of the time we feel we are in a losing battle and can’t find the ways to win and do our job.

You, diary, are the release I have to overcome some of these obstacles. My family is great about it, but I feel they just don’t understand the depths of this job and the games we must play to succeed or at least break even.

At present, I am working on the slideshow for the church, and I have finally figured out how to embed a slideshow directly on a blog post.
That is helpful for old pictures and stuff.
Well, diary I am getting sleep tonight and must get up bright and early for a meeting tomorrow with the other nurses.

Friday, January 16, 2015

Add a Post Title

It seems odd enough. Being stuck in Pennyford, alone. Especially when she arrived with a tour bus of 30 people. Now the bus, driver, tour guide are gone. Vanished into thin air leaving Miss Charity Breathwait in a town that seemed to have been frozen in time.

No one even seems to know that the tour group had even been there. 

Charity had to pinch herself now just to see if she was dreaming. 

“Ouch” she exclaimed quickly removing her fingers from her bare arm.

She wasn’t dreaming. Now what?