For a couple of years, I had been perplexed about a homestead about 2 miles down the road from my Creekistan home. For no apparent reason, they had several truckloads of concrete rubble piled, somewhat neatly, in their front yard. Every time we drove by, we wondered what they were going to do with the awful-looking mess. And for a couple of years, nothing happened. Weeds would grow around the piles. Snow would cover the piles.
Now, the mystery is solved. They have recently moved the piles to the creek behind the house, using the rubble to reinforce the banks of the creek as well as to make a shallow bridge across the creek. They do have some extra rubble, just piled up nearby, but at least its not right in front of the house and in the front yard.
Now if I could only get rid of the detritus left by the former residents of Creekistan . . . .
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
amy, lovely story.
things change, your writing skill remains.
Good evening!
Happy New Year!
It’s raining hailstone at my place, strange…..I feel profound that I find the courage to put up another poetry rally, just for those who love poetry and support poetic prompts…
Poetry picnic week 79 is up, please feel free to join the party today, random poetry is welcome too,
Thanks in advance.
http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2015/01/thursday-poets-rally-week-79-january-14.html
Hope to see you in…………
Sincerely yours,
Hyde Park Poetry....
Post a Comment