Yesterday we were in a bowls tourney at the one club here that has "artificial turf". It is very difficult to bowl on due to the fastness and wide swing. No wonder they can't get club members. We lost 3 games although we bowled as well as the opposition - well maybe almost as good.
It was hot- around 90 and no shade.
We are starting to pack up, we want to have almost everything ready Friday morning yet we still have to live here till then. Decisions, decisions.
Watched Anne Frank's Diary on netflix last night, everyone should watch that one!
I think today I will try and get some time in on "Forks In The Road", I've hit one of those areas again where you grind to a halt. Once through it the words should come again. Probably part of it is that when I write I don't have a plan, I prefer to take the story as it would happen - not knowing what lies ahead.
I'm running out of recent photos to up load and of course I have posted a lot of what I've written.
Maybe I'll repost one of my poems, not everyone will have read them.


Frosty  Morn

Blue sky glinting
Seagull marching
On frosty roof tops

White clouds puffing
Small birds scratching
On ground all barren

Sunlight gleaming
Neighbors cat huddling
On hot tub cover

Distant trees in silhouette
Majestic eagle searching
From wings on high

My window clear
Allows all these to me
From  my computer chair


The Mighty Fraser

I stood so high
On that mountain plateau
It stretched away before me
Two valleys far below

My feet pressing the spongy moss
I gazed ahead
And there before me
Was the start of a mighty watershed

A rivulet it was
Wandering aimlessly about
Trickling and burbling
As it writhed and seeped
Searching, searching for a route

I moved ahead
I followed its course
Until it found a direction
It now moved with purpose and force

Faster and faster
It flowed down the incline
No longer a trickle
Purposely moving, it had received a sign

It flowed onward
Then over the mountain
It dropped straight down
Thousands of feet, a water fountain

It charged into the forest
That grew down there
Bringing nutrients and life
And fresh mountain air

Onward it pressed
Without hesitation
Moving rapidly
Towards a far destination

It rested for a time
As it flowed through a lake
Then burst into rapids
As if suddenly awake

Its journey progressed
Both rapid and slow
Taking time to meander
Like it had no where to go

Then rounding a bend
It would surge with speed
Hurrying again
A destination to heed.

Rivers and streams
Joined along the way
The trickle now a river
And it was only halfway

Rocky gorges
Tried to impede it now
But it responded in kind
Hurtling onward, a liquid plow

Finally it entered
A fertile valley
Meandering again
Quietly now but still very brawny

It’s destination now close
It widened and splintered
Then entered the ocean
Its call finally answered

Hail oh mighty Fraser
I have stood where you rise
I have followed your route
From mountain top to high-rise

You are a life line
That we all should protect
I trust that the future
Will bring that respect


John Little