I am thankful today for the small things; 8 hours of uninterrupted sleep, clean sheets, quiet mornings, being with family, shaven armpits, clipped toenails, long naps, clear counters, good food, my Jesus, ice in my glass and a computer to type on.
Today I think I'll post the beginnings of a story I've been working on. I have to write this for legal purposes:
Copyrighted July 12, 2008 by Sarah M. Ward. No part of this work maybe be used, copied or printed except with permission of the author.Enjoy!
In his dark and clammy home, underneath the trees of the forest, underneath the rotting leaves of the trees of the forest, Bookworm studiously pored over his many books, memorizing and then eating each one, page by page. One evening, in May, while the birds were tenderly tucking themselves into their nests for the night, Bookworm read a Psalm that was very puzzling to him.
Bookworm decided that he needed help understanding its meaning so, slowly as bookworms are, he put on his hat, pushed up his glasses, tucked his book in a crook of his tail, and cautiously ventured to the surface to find help.
Bookworm is a stately worm, with very little hair on his bluish head, and large, serious looking eyes, which are a bit nearsighted -- as most bookworms’ eyes are. He may always be found wearing a purple and green tweed vest except on very special occasions when he wears a black, silk vest that is still in perfect condition for it is worn so rarely. A lovely tan hanky is often tucked into his front pocket, but is hardly ever used for Bookworms do not cry frequently, nor do they sweat. Bookworm used to carry a timepiece on a chain in that pocket, but he so rarely remembered to wind it that he finally put off wearing it at all.
Bookworm’s home is large enough only to house a musty, green, and yellow floral worm-sized couch, a small cast iron stove, and three sagging oak bookcases, which are nearly always filled with large and wordy books. Where Bookworm collects his books from is a matter of question, for no one has ever asked and Bookworm has never stated, but never has a visitor not had the opportunity to gape at the overloaded bookcases and wonder. Not that Bookworm has many visitors for he is a serious type, with little use for frippery or frivolity or gaiety of any kind. The walls of his home are, of course, dirt, packed to form a sphere-shaped room; a single-candle lit hole wherein Bookworm spends his days - he is a thrifty creature.
This eve, however, as Worm emerged from his quiet hole, the Moon shone brightly through the branches of the trees to fall lightly on the three-inch stature of this worm as he began to make his way through the forest. Bookworm was headed east. The first creature Bookworm came upon after leaving his solitary niche was meek Mouse Mother while she foraged food for her young under a stately Oak tree.
“Hello, dear Mouse Mother. I am in dire straits for I cannot comprehend the meaning of a Psalm I have read this night. Perchance, might you assist me?” Worm queried of the young Mother. Mouse, who is known to be skittish, dropped the acorns she had so carefully gathered and scurried away squeaking in fright. “Wait, my dear -- wait!” Bookworm called after her to no avail for she was long gone in the space of a few moments. Slightly put-off, Bookworm wondered if he had been out of society too long, to have received such a response as that. However, he dearly wanted to understand the Psalm, so he boldly continued on, despite the shocking response of Mouse Mother.
Bookworm set about inching his way over the fallen leaves past an empty frog hole and straight on towards a softly singing creek, which he did not remember ever seeing before, when he spied Bumbling Beetle. Worm repeated his request for help and was pleasantly surprised when Beetle stopped to reply instead of running away.
“Yes, Bookworm, I cannot help you, no.” pronounced Beetle in his roundabout way. “But Owl, yes, help you, he can. Wisest in this forest. No, I don’t know where he is, don’t ask, he’s in the trees beyond The River, yes. Look up, yes . . . Let’s see . . . I need to . . .” Worm could only stare in curiosity as Beetle ambled off mumbling to himself.
“My, my! He talks as he walks -- in circles!” exclaimed Bookworm as Beetle disappeared from Bookworm’s view. “Now where might I find this ‘Owl’?” Worm wondered to himself. “Beetle indicated that I should look up . . .” Bookworm leaned his head backward in hopes of finding Owl, but instead, he found himself snout to snout with Cunning Cat. “My goodness!” Worm cried, dropping his book at the sight of Cat’s luminous green eyes, which were staring at Worm hungrily.
“MMMMmmmeow, puuurrrrrrrrr . . . Cat sighed happily. You look meeeeaty enough to feed my tummy tonight . . . How purrrrrrchance did you find your way herrrrrre to my doorrrrrstep little grrrrrrub?”
“Oh! My! Well! I’m not a grrrub, you see, Pretty Cat. I’m – I’m a Bookworm. N-nearly the last of my kind, and -- and I’m on a q-quest to discover the -- the, I’m sorry, but why are you looking at me that way? Nice ... Kitty?” Bookworm managed to stutter as Cat licked his furry orange chops. Cat was clearly in the mood for a little midnight snack and Worm had unknowingly inched his way to Cat’s tree.
“Jussst hold still little grrrub, while I sharrrrpen my claws.” Cat whispered baring all five of his sharp talons and all thirty of his shiny, pointed teeth. Just as Cat was reaching one dangerous paw toward Bookworm, a screeching from the branches above and a rush of wind knocked Bookworm over and frightened Cat away.
“Whoooo! Needs to be more careful? Yooooou Doooo!” Bookworm heard in the distance as he picked himself up from the ground, still shaking from his near death encounter.
“My, oh my! I do need to be more careful! THANK YOU!” He called to the voice that had saved him. “Now, what was I doing? Oh yes – to the trees beyond the river. Could this tinkling stream be ‘The River’?” Bookworm wondered as he inched his way to the edge of the rippling water. “How do I get across?” he asked as he looked to his left, down the river and saw that it only got stronger and wider. Bookworm looked to his right, up the river and saw that it was wide, but not flowing nearly as quickly.
“I suppose I must proceed in that direction and trust there is a better way for a sluggish worm to ford this torrent safely.” Worm decided and set off at once, never doubting the importance of his journey.
The Moon continued quietly on her journey over the forest as Worm made his way South. Finally, after a long hour of inching along, Worm was amazed to find Ant Army blocking his grassy path beside the River. The Army was heavily armored and wearing fierce frowns as they stood antenna-to-antenna two hundred ants wide and five hundred ants deep. One officer step forward, “Halt!” she ordered in a high-pitched shout. “This avenue is closed to all unauthorized personnel! Come any closer and we will be forced to annihilate you!”
“Mighty friend,” Worm tried to pacify the tiny tyrant, “I am but a lowly worm on a quest to find the meaning of a puzzling Psalm. Perhaps you might be of assistance to me? You see . . . “
“Move along!” was the answer he was given.
“Well, ma’am, I must navigate my way across this water to obtain the . . .” Worm began, again being interrupted by the oppositional officer.
“No one without authorization may cross! Now move along!”
“Is there someone with whom I might appeal to for permission?” Worm wisely implored and was delighted when a more accommodating ant stepped forward.
“Follow me.” She ordered as she ran ahead, leading Worm as quickly as he could follow to the entrance to the ant lair and down into the depths of the colony to the throne room of the Queen.
“My goodness,” Worm panted, out of breath from his unaccustomed exercise. “I hope all these exertions are worth the answer I will achieve!”
“How may I help you?” The Supercilious Sovereign asked, looking down her antennae at Bookworm.
“Well, dear Queen,” Worm, still catching his breath, started, “I’m seeking permission to cross The River, so that I might find Owl, in order to ask Him – or Her – It, rather – if, er, well, whether, that is, this Owl might shed some insight on a Psalm I’ve been having trouble with. I hope you are the one to authorize the continuance of my journey.” Worm had finally regained his composure.“Indeed, I Am.” The Queen Mother agreed. “You may continue this journey of yours, if you allow me to see this Psalm and you agree to bring the answer you find back to me. I am not often out of my throne room and am always curious about the outer goings on of the world above.” With the wave of her front leg the queen indicated that her attendant should bring her reading glasses over.
First they got picked up early in the morning . . .
so they could go to the U-Pick and
pick peaches, plums, pears, peppers,
eggplants, zuchinni, and tomatoes.
Ezra got splinters on his bum after swim time, but they didn't slow him down!
The next day, Oliver and I joined them at a reunion party where they got to swim some more, feed the horses (extreme feeding - sweeing as they thought WE were the food ;), and feed the goats at the Sand Creek Stables. 
