Ten Years Old

Time is a funny thing. I’m pretty sure we can all agree on that. I had no clue what I was getting into when I started this blog…

And here we are. Ten years of the kingdom, of silliness and stories, of seeing where my words could go. I’ve certainly had a blast. I hope you all have as well.

I’ve been trying to stick with themes this year, posting every Wednesday to stay in some sort of routine and have each month be it’s own story. Something like that. As I have nothing for this month I think starting next week we’ll take a stroll down memory lane and revisit some of my favorite posts from the last ten years.

writer daydream haiku

Words flow like water
From thought to ink on the page
Every writers dream

ignorance

There were so many turtles.  We stopped by the shores of the pond to stretch our legs before getting back in the car for the long drive home and the turtles popped up from all over.  Their heads barely breaking the surface to study us before pulling back underneath only to pop up again a few feet closer.

There were so many turtles.  I think they must get fed by the strangers and daily visitors and maybe even by the people who maintain the adjacent park because why else would they come fearlessly close to investigate us?  They must expect food from the people who visit their pond.

There were so many turtles and I do not think we were supposed to feed them, but when I look at this picture I can’t help but feel that perhaps I was wrong.  Perhaps we were supposed to feed them.  Perhaps that was the cost for visiting their shores and strolling through their park.

There were so many turtles and I hope they can forgive me my ignorance if I have done wrong.

strap and throw

The last run of an extended season.  The snow was choppy and pooled with water that sucked the life from my board.  The heat of the day was nearly intolerable.  And yet, as I rounded the corner behind Facelift, I was once again reminded of the main reason I choose to strap (a piece of plastic on my feet) and throw (myself off the side of mountains)…  The mountains are so enchanting, always.  They call to me, as you – my most faithful of kingdomites – know to be truth.  And what can I do but answer.

works from fire

The echoes slammed against us, waves of sound crashing and crashing and crashing long after the flashes were swallowed by the night.

Boom.  Boom.  Boom.

Shooting stars, smiley faces, willow trees, and all in brilliant reds and blues and greens burned into my eyes only to be wiped clean by the always slower sweeping rumble that had born witness to the bursts of light.

Boom.  Boom.  Boom.

We never tire of these controlled explosions, oohing and aahing while the burning embers dance in the evening breeze and the echoes of their powerful birth crash and rumble.

Boom.  Boom.  Boom.