Friday, October 31, 2014

Pillowcase ghosts, and charcoal hobos


Being allowed out past your bedtime.

Wandering darkening streets in rolled up old baggy pants, held up with gardening twine.

Grandpa’s straw hat doused with the smell of tobacco, and hair tonic. Falling into your eyes whenever you looked down at your dusty older brother’s boots swamping your feet.

Your Dad’s tweed suit jacket used only for funerals, and church, pressed into service after he could no longer squeeze into it.

Your new Hobo costume. Fall leaves on grass

Faint lingering scent of cologne a comfort against the rough tweed that itched your neck.

Sleeves folded up by your Mother, costume organized between dinner and dishes.

Eagerly edging out the door, best friends alone outside for the first time, impatient to leave.

Winter jackets zipped up against the October chill, worn under costumes.

The only ticket to the outdoor adventure called Halloween.

Smudgy charcoal taken from fireplace ashes, or if your Mom was the glamorous type, cake mascara.  Smeared spit on a finger swirled and rubbed onto your face, whiskers drawn with the rough scratch of underdone charcoal sticks.

One type fits all costumes, scavenged from what ever castoffs were found in hall closets.

Brightly colored, ridged plastic masks with small cut outs for eyes.

Tender young lips tickled by the sharp edge of plastic as you talked.

Ragged breath from heaving lungs condensing inside, heating up your face. Thin elastic cord held on with tiny staples on either side, coming undone halfway through the night.

Leaving you to hold onto your mask with one hand, and your bedraggled pillowcase candy sack with the other. Fall leaves

Feet pounding down walkways, across porches, enthusiastically throwing open aluminum screen doors so hard they banged into outside walls.

Sugary fingers poking at doorbells, making them stick in rectangle frames, chimes endlessly reverberating off inside hallways.

Cold, dark, frightening air, big kid monsters jumping out of hiding, eliciting thrilled screams.

Homeowners peering out of brightly lit doorways, shedding glowing light onto dark smudgy faces crowded round doorsteps, white cotton pillowcases held aloft.

Memory searing scent of scorched pumpkin lids, mingled with candle wax, fear, sugar highs, and excitement.

Innocence in a paper sack of unwrapped, homemade candies.

Caramel apples on a stick, and rice crispy squares the best treasures of the night.

Sodden pillow cases dragged down streets, feet sore, breath hot, senses high.

Anticipation built for the next year.

Happy Halloween.

Jen @ Muddy Boot Dreams


Wednesday, October 29, 2014

On a Wednesday…my world?


There are things that happen mid week that get quickly swept under the rug of life, shredded little crumbs of funny, poignant things, and sweet happy things that go crunch.

I keep forgetting to share them with you. Church steeple in fog

There should be a app for that.  One that Bloggers could download for free onto their phones, containing the pieces and snippets, thoughts, ideas, and inspirations that flow through our minds in the middle of whenever.

I talked about that in, “The 2 am bloggers social club.”

Maybe I’m repeating my self here, but hey universe?  A app, please?

It would email them all back to us when our blogging lacks inspiration, when we need that all important creative boost, or just when we wanted to remember something that tickles the back of our mind.

Only those words, thoughts, ideas that pertain to what we were writing at the time….like a huge storage unit of ideas, all sorted by category, and every one of them our very own.

Wouldn’t that be cool? 

On the subject of cool.

Have you heard of f.lux, it’s free for your computer.  If you are a night owl, early morning person, or just a normal middle aged person who tends to be staring at the screen too long in the darkening room like me you might find it helpful.  My eyes were tired from reading the screen f.lux has made a difference in how they feel after looking at the screen in artificial light.

Trees on the street in fog

I am only recommending it as a Blogger, this is not a promotional spiel. It changes the blue light emitted by computers, warming up your monitor display. You can easily disable it by clicking a box to edit photos.

It also makes it easier to write stupendously, wonderful, and spectacular blog posts, no just kidding, you will have to wait until someone creates a app for that. 

They are going to have to create two apps for sure, one for the ideas, the other to write the posts.

Homemade turkey rice soup.

Oh, by the way, total change of subject.

That’s what I smell wafting through the house right now…cooling on the counter before it goes in the fridge.

Like it, hate it?

Gosh I like it, as long as it’s not too thick.

And in case you were wondering why I can smell the soup, blog posts are usually written by the flickering light of evening.  Last minute, hurriedly, and before my tired head goes to rest on the keyboard.  Thank goodness for post scheduling.

Trees on boulevard

When I write I allow myself some of the ever decreasing Halloweenie candy…thank goodness Halloween is coming soon. The stash is getting so low in the hiding spot that there might not be enough for the kiddies. 

Rockets…the tubes of sweet/sour little button shaped sugar laden citric acid including candies…I’m crazy for them, and there is a trail of plastic wrappers everywhere…don’t tell.

I also have a Bootsie story, and it is completely about being wide awake at 4:30 am…thanks for the morning wake up calls Boo.

But my eyes, and my tired head need a rest, so maybe I finish this on Friday?

I’m writing myself a note in order to remember, but just imagine if they had created that Blogging app already for us…I could just speak into my phone, and it would sort it all out and email it to me on Thursday night.  And then the Boo could wake me up at 4:30 am in order write it.


And wouldn’t life be grand.


Jen @ Muddy Boot Dreams



Monday, October 27, 2014

It’s not just a blog


I started a blog to share some of my photos, the huge emailed files were clogging up my friends inboxes, and what better way of recording my garden through the seasons. 

I’d been sending photos of flowers, petals, stems, upside, underside, flowers in shadows, in bright light, with overlays, without textures, in black and white…if it was a flower it seems that I took a photo of it.  Eventually accumulating over 20,000 of them.  I had very patient friends, or else they were quick on the delete button when I sent those files, thank goodness I will never know that answer.Foggy Train tracks

It’s a total cliché apparently…. get a camera, take tons of photos of flowers, send them to your friends, but what can I tell you, I can now take a good flower portrait.

I learned to take a good photo because blogging taught me that. And I expanded beyond flowers.

Blogging is also what turned a small, quiet, inner voice, the very one that used to speak to my heart in a whisper, saying “look at the way the light hits the leaves and makes them shimmer like crystals, do you see how the sun on the mountainside is gilding the fir trees” and turning away because when it spoke no one listened, and some laughed at it.

It was shy that inner voice, and the laughter hurt.

Blogging and your support has made it a stronger more confident voice that has learned to speak up, and share what it feels, and rarely do people laugh at it anymore.

And I suppose if they do, then that’s life isn’t it, not everyone is going to understand everything it has to say. 

It’s also a voice that may take over blog posts, insisting that the topic go left, or right, or even change full course.  Usually right after most of the post is written, and the clock is clicking fast, it’s timing is nothing short of annoying at times.

Barn in blue fog

It’s not just a blog it’s a connection, a meeting up with those who like what we like, that spark that flows through the computer screen, and makes us nod in agreement, saying yes, that’s me.

They’ve got me to a “T”, they understand, or that’s a product that I might be interested in, maybe even hey there’s a tutorial on something that I was wondering how to do the other day.

Fog on mountains and fields

Might be that we love the way they write, their style of photography speaks to our heart.

They have a way of presenting ordinary objects with joy.

Blogs are a outlet for our creativity, for our opinions, for our wish to share what we see, and how we see it.

Saying it’s just a blog, really doesn’t begin to describe what it is.

Jen @ Muddy Boot Dreams


I want to say thank you to all who visit, and are leaving such supportive comments on my last post. 

Yes, I am still blogging, and will do so for as long as you want to read my posts, and most likely continue even if you don’t, it’s in me to blog.  That post wasn’t about taking a break, it was about feeling blogging guilt because I can’t keep up with visiting, and commenting. And i thank all of those who are letting me know that they understand.

I am trying to visit your blogs when I can, life is demanding a good share of my time but know that I am trying my best.

I need to write, these words come from my heart, wind through my mind, sprout from the pen, transferring themselves into letters scratched on scraps of paper scattered through out the house.

The camera also calls, demands, pleads to be taken out for a joy ride…despite the less then perfect weather some days.

Because that is what blogging is made of.