This
meme was started by Delores a long time ago. Computer issues led her
to bow out for a while. The meme was too much fun to let go, and now
Words for Wednesday is provided by a number of people and has become a
movable feast.
Essentially
the aim is to encourage us to write. Each week we are given a choice
of prompts: which can be words, phrases, music or an image. What we
do with those prompts is up to us: a short story, prose, a song, a
poem, or treating them with ignore... We can use some or all of the
prompts, and mixing and matching is encouraged.
Some
of us put our creation in comments on the post, and others post on
their own blog. I would really like it if as many people as possible
joined into this fun meme, which includes cheering on the other participants. If you are posting on your own blog - let me know so that I, and other participants, can come along and applaud. And huge thanks to those of you who come back, sometimes time after time to cheer other contributors on.
The prompts will be here this month, but they are being provided by David M. Gascoigne.
This
week's prompts are:
- Afternoon
- Furrowed
- Enchanted
- Knowing
- Organized
- Singing
And/or
- Clutched
- Beyond
- Metaphysical
- Symbiosis
- Vital
- Father
Have fun.
Huge thanks to David for providing the prompts this month. Next month River will be providing the prompts on her blog. I hope to see you there.
In my family only mathematics and hard science brains were valued. I spent many an afternoon puzzling with a furrowed brow over my physics homework. It was simply beyond me. My struggles ended when I discovered that my youngest brother was enchanted by the logic he insisted was there and that he and my mother would fight over who did it for me. A perfect symbiosis. I was organized, and they were happy
ReplyDeleteIt did mean that I wound up ‘knowing’ a few formulae and little more. My father , also singing the maths/science tune, disapproved. He said that an understanding of the principles of physics was vital. In trying to convince me of this (to him) evident truth he was clutching at straws. Decades later I still disagree with him.
Largely as a result of the hard-edged maths/science divide I was in my thirties before I realised that I am not stupid.
Philosophy is much more my speed. It makes my brain hurt (both cells) but I find metaphysical questions much more engrossing. Abstract concepts fascinate and intrigue me and the relationship between such things as mind and body and/or the question of the initial conditions/origins of our universe can keep me happily pondering for hours. When all is said and done love, which I consider essential, is a metaphysical concept. It cannot be measured in any practical way, nor weighed, nor manufactured. Just the same it exists.
There is room for many different types of brain, and I am endlessly grateful to have discovered/realised that (while doubting that my family would agree).
I love this and can so relate.
DeleteI can so relate also to this Sue. My father valued my brain but had no hesitation in telling me it was "wasted on a girl."
DeleteXO
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I was in my teens when I realised that I am not stupid. It made it not easier.
DeleteWonderful use of David's prompts, Sue. In every respect. Feel yourself virtually hugged.
As we learn more and more about the many different kinds of intelligence there are, i would hope your family of origin would eventually see we are not all wired alike, nor are we meant to be.
DeleteWell done EC. I have neither a math or a science brain, although I manage basic math well enough to manage my budget. Metaphysics is beyond me also, I honestly don't know where my brain "strength" lies.
DeleteHi EC - excellent use of the words ...and so well expressed. Honestly 'two cells' - no your brain is hugely larger ... loved this story line - I hit my sixties, I think, before realisation set in ... just few are on the same wavelength as me. I'll need to reflect on your entry a bit more ... much to learn and appreciate here - thanks for this!! Cheers Hilary
DeleteI absolutely love when you write a story! Great job! My dad and I didn't agree on much, but I think he helped me be "tough" in prep for life. -Teresa
Deletehttps://journalingwoman.blogspot.com
Excellent use of the prompts and also excellent way to make us all relate to what we have learned in our lifetime.
DeleteYou are absolutely right, Sue. The world would be a sorry place without philosophers, writers, painters, musicians and their ilk. Great use of the prompts to weave a story that no doubt will ring true for many.
ReplyDeleteWell written, Sue. It does ring so true.
ReplyDeleteJulia had always been ENCHANTED by nature. Her earliest memories were of were of walks with her father, exploring everything from mosses and lichens, to the FURROWED bark of trees, to fungi on the forest floor and birds SINGING as only birds can. She always loved the sound of birds communicating with each other in a code known only to other members of their species, and even though pleasant to the human ear truly BEYOND our realm of understanding. Julie was not a METAPHYSICAL person but she did derive a level of spirituality from forests and wetlands. Every walk was different, every encounter magical. As she CLUTCHED her father’s hand as a little girl it seemed that there was a flow of understanding between them, every bit as VITAL as the SYMBIOSIS between mycorrhizal fungi and tree roots. She loved her FATHER in the same way she loved nature, with passion and intensity. When he died she grieved in her own way, KNOWING that he had been returned to the Earth he loved so much, and that he would have been happy with that. She really didn’t have much truck with spirituality, and none with ORGANIZED religion, but she couldn’t help but wonder when the Mourning Dove sat on her knee the AFTERNOON her father died whether the birds too were marking the passing of a kindred spirit and grieving with her. We’ll never know.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful take on the words David, love the interweaving of your passion, the birds.
DeleteXO
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Happy the children who are taken in hand in such a way. How fondly they will remember, they and their parents.
Delete[once again doubting this is proper English ;-)]
This is beautiful.
DeleteDavid M. Gascoigne: This is beautiful. And I hope a story which continues to be told in many families. Many, many families.
DeleteHi David - so beautifully crafted ... using all the words, while giving us this sad, yet beautiful story ... if only we could all be as peaceful and settled in our lives as this daughter has been allowed to be. Thank you ... I'd have loved that ... but all is well. Cheers Hilary
DeleteA precious story of life and living it to the full.
DeleteMoving story. Well written.
DeleteYour prompts provided were definitely challenging and you created a moving story with them.
DeleteGoing to work on it now.
ReplyDeletemessymimi: As always I am looking forward to seeing where the prompts take you.
DeleteThis turned into a moving day story which will be up soon.
DeleteThe little girl's brow furrowed in concentration as she stood with her nose pressed against the stain glassed window, in the late afternoon, enchanted by the singing coming from the little church in the wild wood. The choir was organized by her mother, who was as lovely as the songs she and the others sang. The child pulled away from the window long enough to look at the beautiful sky of blue with the white puffy clouds drifting through it and smiled, knowing the sound went straight to heaven, where her daddy listened, waiting till the the three of them sang together once more.
ReplyDeleteA lovely poetic story, Sandra. I love the idea of her father being so present in their singing.
DeleteXO
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Sandra Cox: This is lovely. Really, really lovely.
DeleteHi Sandra - lovely little tale ... how delightful to think about ... cheers Hilary
DeleteBeautifully done!
DeleteSweet and poetic.
DeleteI understand the feeling of the little girl. Wonderful job with the prompts Sandra.
DeleteBy Afternoon I
ReplyDeleteFurrowed the field and felt
Enchanted Knowing the farm is well
Organized. Now Time for
Singing!
Cloudia: Love it - and hope that you sang while you worked as well.
DeleteHi Cloudia - very clever ... well done - Hilary
DeleteWhen work is done and done well, the mind is free for play time.
DeleteFine poem.
DeleteGood job Cloudia.
DeleteHere is mine all words used.
ReplyDeleteBeyond the paddock, the rows in the Big Field were furrowed awaiting her father’s planting of the wheat. She sat on the farmhouse porch in the lovely low afternoon light and clutched her news to herself.
Knowing her father would be, what, proud? Yes. Definitely. As enchanted as herself? Well, no. Surely not.
It was beyond belief. Neither of them thought that her singing would bring such acclaim. And a scholarship now. It was breathtaking. The big but? It was going to take her thousands of miles away.
Her singing was like breathing to her, vital, essential, metaphysical, her raison d’etre. He understood that surely? In her sixteen years with him, fourteen of those years just the two of them, they went about their days in a symbiosis, knew what each other were thinking, discussed the big issues, the little issues.
Played their nightly chess game. Waking at dawn, she milked the few cows, gathered the eggs before school while he made breakfast and packed her lunch. He came to all her competitions, brought her flowers at her recitals. Encouraged her.
Tears leaked unbidden from her eyes as he jumped off the tractor in the yard and walked up the steps.
What? he said, concerned seeing her face.
Oh Dad! She said. Dad! She handed him the letter with the big announcement.
He sat beside her and read it twice. He swallowed. Hard.
Now then, he said, folding it neatly and handing it back to her, we’ll have our hands full getting you organized for the next wonderful part of your dream. You done good, my girl, and he stood up and opened his arms as wide as they would go.
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XO
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Wisewebwoman: If only more relationships were like this one. I hope that both of them are amply rewarded. Her as she fulfils her dream and her father as he not only lets her go but encourages her.
DeleteA lovely story, Mary.
DeleteAnd it makes me sad that it is written by a woman once being told by her father that her [valued] brain was "wasted on a girl".
I like this and I'm glad they are now able to "let go" while she pursues her dream career.
DeleteHi WWW - brought tears to my eyes ... if only more of us were like these two ... brilliant ... so cheering in so many ways ... congratulations on the take - Hilary
DeleteOh my gosh, WWW. This is so beautiful. What a wonderful relationship.
DeleteSandra Cox
That's what children need, parents whose encouragment is more than mere lip service.
DeleteWow. I'm wordless.
DeleteShe will pursue her dreams but she will miss that tractor.
DeleteFelicidades, porque con estas palabras no era nada fácil componer un relato; y tu, lo has conseguido.
DeleteUn cordial saludo.
My tears are close to flowing.
ReplyDeleteOne afternoon a furrowed vital father, enchanted by knowing that organised singing is beyond any metaphysical symbiosis, clutched at a straw.
ReplyDeleteSean Jeating: Smiling. What is furrowing this father - though I am glad that enchantment wins.
DeleteHi Sean - succinct to the point of that straw ... thank you - Hilary
DeleteI do wonder about the straw, Sean. A stray note perhaps?
DeleteXO
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You've painted a fascinating picture.
DeleteClutching at straws is the sign of an organised father ;)
DeleteThis one is going to be hard I think.
ReplyDeleteRiver: I have confidence in you. Perhaps more than you do.
DeleteGood stories EC.
ReplyDeleteMargaret D: There always are, each and every week. Which delights and awes me.
DeleteHi EC and David ... I found these difficult words - but here's what's appeared ... and by the way I've no idea whether I've correctly interpreted some of the words! I'm quite glad to see Sean's thoughts on English too ...
ReplyDelete1st lot:
Over the afternoon the farmer's furrowed brow had eased knowing that the reapers were such an organised gang of workers …
… while he had decided he'd be delighted if these happy souls would often help him out … he loved their singing of the folk tunes of times gone by.
2nd lot:
She clutched her handbag not wanting to release it to the authorities … this little container full of goodies of her past … they would show too much.
Her father had been summoned, but she knew he was there to answer those metaphysical questions – 'what there is' … or 'what it is like' … as she grew into womanhood.
But what was vital to her was to maintain that symbiotic relationship so her childish thoughts would remain hidden.
Her handbag, her clutch was sacred to her … she needed to contain it … she didn't want to grow up ...
Now to read the other entries ... well this one stretched me ... perhaps the elastic has held up! And perhaps I can learn more about the words from the entries! Cheers Hilary
You have me musing on the contents of that precious bag.
DeleteXO
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I too am curious about the contents of the bag, Hilary.
DeleteHilary Melton-Butcher: Your elastic certainly held up. I really enjoyed both takes. And yes, sometimes we do need physical reminders to anchor us to the here and now.
DeleteA good gang of workers are essential for a farmer at the busy season.
DeleteSometimes we just need to hang on to that physical object for reasons no one else would understand.
re the contents of the bag ... I was sort of imagining a child who had 'special needs' or similar ... i.e. her 'treasures' to explain her life were in there ... not perhaps the kind of things grown ups would have ... and which would disclose too much of her - that she didn't want anyone to know about. cheers Hilary
DeleteMysterious one - What is in that handbag?
DeleteNo matter how difficult the prompts seemed to be, you moved forward as always, weaving a great tale.
DeleteThanks Hilary, that brought tears, lovely lovely.
DeleteXO
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Great job, Hils. I love the phrase 'clutched her handbag'.
ReplyDeleteSandra sandracox.blogspot.com
DeleteMOB VIOLENCE by Granny Annie
ReplyDeleteWe had intended to have a happy drive to my Grandmother's house. We turned the corner to encounter a metaphysical symbiosis of two wild groups of rioters. Father clutched the steering wheel. His brow was furrowed. It was easy to tell he was worried but I was enchanted. The sounds of organized singing was beautiful on this crowded afternoon. Everything seemed perfectly fine to me but my all-knowing dad knew better. Making our way beyond this crowd would be vital. The news on the radio told the story and I finally understood.
Granny Annie: I really enjoyed this. And love your take from a child's perspective.
DeleteThose are some scary moments for the adults, especially if they want to shield the children and keep them from becoming afraid.
DeleteWell written. Mass hysteria can be very alluring.
DeleteGranny Annie: Well done. Loved the ending.
DeleteWell done Granny Annie ... as kids we can so easily get mesmerised - but Dad, as Dads should, know more ... ver evocative piece - cheers Hilary
ReplyDeleteKnowing organized singing was going on in the afternoon at the church the monks just furrowed their brows and th enchanted.
ReplyDeleteMike: Are we missing some of this story. I am wondering what enchanted the monks...
Deleteth enchanted = then chanted
DeleteMaybe I should have done it this way; th(en chanted)
Mike: I see - thank you for explaining it to me. And now I am feeling a little slow, but still grateful for the explanation.
DeleteI needed the explanation as well, but fun one!
DeleteGood job Mike. The more succinct the better.
DeleteHi Mike - I wondered ... but didn't ponder - great take on the words - cheers Hilary
DeleteBreakfast is a very important meal in the day (morning). What about lunch (afternoon)? Eating a salad good or not good in the afternoons?
ReplyDeletebread&salt: I know we are told that breakfast is the most important meal of the day, but I am not usually ready to eat then. A cup of tea (chai) is my breakfast. And salads are always good.
DeleteI did it. Here: Words for Wednesday.
ReplyDeleteCharlotte (MotherOwl): I have already read and thoroughly enjoyed your story.
DeleteI'm a couple days late and a couple dollars short, but what else is new? I created a Haibun for the last entry in my 30 Days of Haiga challenge.
ReplyDeletehttps://poetryofthenetherworld.blogspot.com/2022/09/30-days-of-haiga-2022-seeds-of-me.html
Ornery Owl of Naughty Netherworld Press and Readers Roost (Not Charlotte): Thank you for joining us again. And ouch.
DeleteIt was really fun to see what different stories were prompted by David's words, Sue!
ReplyDeleteFundy Blue: It is. I delight in the very different takes each and every week.
DeleteHi,
ReplyDeleteNice blog. I am new. Do you want to follow each other?
https://fashionandwishlist.blogspot.com/
Fashion and Wishlist: Have fun blogging. I will be over to visit you shortly though fashion and I don't have a lot in common.
DeleteNice Post
ReplyDeleteThanks
Rehoboth: Thank you.
Delete