magic potion.

Teaspoon of dried butterfly wings, crushed,

1 gill of fairy pee, warmed

Drips and drops aromatic oils

12 pounds of elbow grease.

 

What are you, lazy? Put your back in to it!

The house could be cleaner, you more virtuous, you wouldn’t have this problem.

Try a little harder, be a little better.

If all else fails, let Husband secretly add bleach to the potion.

 

a few thoughts on natural cleaning after a succession of scrub ups from chicken and deer processing.

i am over  at sense of story this week. here.

 

don’t you just love

Don’t you just love being the first one up in the morning?

A little before dawn when color seeps up the sky,

Nervous chickadees pecking at the last oasis of snow while those nasty ole hawks are fluffed out in their nests.

A sampling of time before my bears lumber from their rumpled dens in search of breakfast.

The moment where I haven’t lost the thread to pull us along.

I could have it every day if I tried a little bit harder.

I have these freckles.

A handful of years ago a woman told me only irresponsible people have freckles.

Looking down at my patined arms suprised she would say this to me, my eyebrows lifted.

Like waves they course down my arms, spray across my face, rivulets meander down my legs.

I suppose I could have stuck to the edges instead of laughing in the sun.

Scrunched in the shadows not loafed on the grass.

But locked up in how a lady should look sounds like a drag.