Photo Credit: Bruno C. / Art Photos / CC BY

Her name was Patches
wild child and free
9 years old
Smarter than most

Knows when there’s
treats in your pocket
stops – begs

Smile, old man
She rides for you
share the love
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The weekend Trifextra Challenge is to choose one of three pictures, post it (with proper credits as provided), and write 33 words about it. I am completely taken with this little girl. When I was a teenager one of the popular songs of the day was Patches. Even though the song is about a boy, it is what came to mind as I wrote these words.

The weekend challenge is community-voted. I would encourage you all to go and read these many brilliant writers and pick your top three faves. The voting will open when the challenge ends and will last for 12 hours.


photo from amazon.com images

Granny Adams picked her way carefully through the market stalls. Tuesdays were her days to buy apples. She loved Braeburns and the produce manager had promised today was the day.

Tsking and shaking her head, Granny made sighing noises as she picked over the apples. “Too big. Too small. Too soft. Brown spots. Bruised. Johnny, don’t you have some good apples hidden away for Granny?”

Behind the fruit Johnny looked up and smiled at the old woman. “Granny, I got-ta just what-ta you need!” He pulled out a brown bag and carefully chose 5 beauties from behind the counter for the woman.

“Thank you, Johnny. These are perfect for my strudel. How’s Rosa today? Is she home with the children?”

Tears formed in the corners of Johnny’s eyes and he dabbed at them with the corner of his green apron. “Oh, Miss Granny, I don’t know what-a to do. Our boy, Johnny Jr. is such a disappointment to his-a Mama. He sits around all day doing a-nothing but a-playing on his eye-phone. He is so lazy and it-a breaks Mama’s heart.”

Granny looked up and patted Johnny’s broad shoulder. “I know, Johnny. My August was just such a boy. He was idle all through his early twenties. I told him he had to move on. He could not live with me and not help out like that. It broke my heart. He was such a good – little – boy.”

“Si, si, Miss Granny. Junior is such a boy. What-a can we do? What-a can we do?”

“I will pray, Johnny,” Granny told him. “I will pray your Rosa finds peace and that Junior finds his way.”

“You’re a good woman, Miss Granny. Here, you take-a these apples and you have a good day. No charge-a for you. I will see you next week.”

Granny Adams left carrying her apples and a new burden for her friend. “Kids these days,” she muttered. Their idle hands will be the death of us.”
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The Trifecta challenge this week is to write 33-333 words using IDLE in its third definition. These are my 333.

The winners this week will be chosen by “community” vote. I encourage you to read all the entries and then vote for your top three faves. I will be doing the same thing.
🙂

Remember this post?

Thought I would give you an update as to where I am in knitting dishy/washy wonderfulness for my birthday friends.

Three completed and 1 on the needles . . . . Leave a message on the original post and tell me what YOU will do to pay it forward. I will draw someone(s) on my special day and pay it forward myself with one of these dish/wash cloths. You will simply have to give me a mailing address in order to ship one out to you.

Do let me know how you will pay it forward for my birthday. Comments are closed on this post – please go to the original post to comment.

Thanks!

Trifecta’s Challenge for the weekend is 33 words on a new beginning. This is my take:
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Today was a new day. The sun shone warmer, brighter somehow.

He reached for her hand. She leaned into his arm. They walked from the building, smiling.

The doctors’s words rang . . .

Cancer free!

Ashes to ashes
Dust to dust
A mote in the wind
An atom of rust
My thoughts turn
Inward
My eyes look
Out

I long to be touched
But must do without
The priest intones
Prayers unheard
My heart beats on
I seek His true word

What is the touch
I seek from you
What is the word
I wait to hear

Ashes to ashes
I hear again
We all move
Forward
Straining backward

The priest reaches out
Pulling me in
I want out
But must go in
Ashed forehead
Solemn soul

My eyes turn
Inward
Seeking the One
Here?
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Velvet Verbosity challenged us to write 100 words on DUST. I remember the smell of incense. I remember the grit of ashy foreheads. I remember longing for acceptance. I remember my unsolaced heart.

So glad to know the cross is empty and the man nailed on it lives in my heart. Together we look forward with no pulling back.