Hack and Slash- Gardening, not Editing.

September is almost at it's end...and I have been rather unproductive writing-wise. Made a start on a few things, edited some others, rewrote some, squinted, sighed and looked out the window. Spring has arrived, the sun was up and the jungle that is my garden waved back at me with its wild untamed tenticular...everything.
So I started a gardening blitz because ....

and every writer needs a break once in a while.


First thing to happen was the creation of a new fenced area for (all) my chickens. I have a lot of chickens and even though I love the cute wee things, I was quickly tiring of them leaving poopy presents on my doorstep. Sooooo, now they have their side of the yard and we have ours. They are very cute but their shit isn't, also my lawn was dying a slow hen-pecked death. They are very effective lawn mowers if you don't mind exchanging grass for...a hard poop-baked desert.

One of my Chinese Silkies- fluff for brains- seriously, they are the blonds of the poultry world.

My Georgie Girl- not sure if she can actually see under all those feathers- but she's oh so cute!

Job number two involved destroying an old garden shed. The only thing holding it up was an ancient ivy tree. The hardest part in the process was removing that cursed ivy. I ended up taking an axe to it, chop, chop, hack, miss...sometime later TIMBER! And the hybrid wall/ivy tree didn't fall on me! Yes, I was very proud of myself.

my triumphant, 'I-just-kicked-this-shed's-ass' pose. Wore my flashest gumboots for the occasion ;)

Actually that shed-pocalypse kicked my butt a little too, I ended up hobbling around for the next week. Not sure how I did it but I must have somehow strained something in my hip during that frenzy of wanton destruction.

Next thing to go was the two Douglas Firs at the back of our property. Our awesome, fantastic, amazing neighbors got hold of a cherry picker for the weekend, so they popped on over and asked us if we wanted the problematic trees gone. Problematic meaning they had a nasty habit of shedding branches during storms, narrowly missing fences, the neighbor's house, the chookhouse and even me (one evening when I was out putting the animals away, crash, Eek!). So naturally we were all happy to see the last of them- the trees... not the animals.

 

Our neighbors are especially pleased since they can now see the sun- oh blessed sunshine.

 

 Then there's the clean up. You know what? Woodchippers are great. Instead of a disheartening mountain of branches, I now have a manageable pile of mulch. 

Now the next thing is to put in is a vege garden. I will somehow figure out a way to bunny-proof it. Alaska is fond of eating anything I put in, or near the ground ( the two remaining stalks of the blackcurrant are a sad testimony to this fact.)

Here's the flemish giant fatty in question. She's cute yes, but she's bigger than a cat and has a greedy garden destroying glint in her eye.

After my September gardening binge I almost feel ready to sit down again and get back into that rewrite. That magical idea portal that seems to inhabit roughly the same space as my cruddy old shower has opened up and poured forth wonderful ideas. I may have just solved a troubling plot/continuity problem in The Rising. Can't wait to get back into it and see if this new direction works.
Or maybe I will just procrastinate and do more gardening... and also the house needs painting this summer...

Flash Little Pieces...of Science Fiction

The Future Is Short: presents 57 Science Fiction Micro-tales by 31 Authors

Step through the borders of reality in these 57 evocative tales by 31 science fiction authors.

Discover wonders and horrors of science and speculation in this sparkling collection. Swift to read but unforgettable, each story evokes a universe, a concept, a feeling human or alien.

Visit time’s ghosts on Mars; wake to unseen new dimensions. Explore alien love and hate, human inspiration and revenge. Observe worlds and civilizations of the far future; wonder with aliens at human lives and actions. In these tales, each under 725 words, find truth and laughter, comedy and tragedy. Explore a universe of heaven and hell redefined.

*The Future Is Short: Science Fiction in a Flash, an anthology of 57 microstories by 31 authors, edited by Jot Russell, Paula Friedman, and Carrol Fix. Lillicat Publishers 2014, all standard ebook format editions available June 29, 2014, print edition by early July.* 

Short Story- Blood Brothers

(A short story written inspired by the picture prompt (below) posted by writeworld, on Tumblr) 

Blood Brothers- Ami Hart © 2014

Even as he looked at his feet, Cale felt his older brother’s stare drilling into him, puncturing through his defenses until he was left small and bare beneath it.
"It was you wasn’t it? Garrick asked, his voice low, dangerously so. "Wasn’t it?!" Cale flinched at the loud, heaviness of his older brother’s voice. Garrick had obviously found the truck, broken and stuck in the old dry river, resting with the boulders, right where Cale had crashed it.
Cale didn’t say anything, he didn’t try to blame the Harper kids, if he did… Shit! He didn’t want to think about the fact that his words had power over life and death.

"Jesus…" Garrick muttered. Cale felt his brother turn to look back at the house, only then did he dare lift his eyes, looking past his brother’s broad shoulder toward the shack they regretfully called home.
Garrick whirled back, leaning forward and shoving his fierce, scar-strewn face close. “He’s going to skin ya, buddy, maybe worse. That truck was our salvation, made us kings, without it we’re worse than shit again.”
"You gonna tell him?" Cale squeaked, hating how reedy-thin his voice sounded.
"I don’t have a choice, do I? He’s gonna notice it is missing when he sobers up and he’ll get trigger angry if he thinks someone other than his own spawn did it. "

No, instead he’ll get fist angry when he finds out it's me. Cale’s arm muscles tensed, his own hands forming white knuckled balls of fear.

"Not if we go... try and fix it up."Cale said, his voice running on urgent.
"With what? There’s no parts around here. She’s the only vehicle in the basin. He killed for that hunk of rust you know…" Something broke in Garrick’s voice. Neither of them liked to remember that day, even Pa didn’t talk about it and he talked a lot of shit.
Cale looked down an scuffed his feet, his gut feeling heavy-like, settling down in the pit of him as if it were going ahead of him to damnation.

We gonna be cursed to hell for what we’ve done.

That blood soaked haze that lay behind Cale’s eyelids when he closed his eyes to sleep. The nightmares that made him whimper. Cale had been woken more than once with a sharp electric slap, Pa roaring like that beast from his nightmares, “stop sniveling like a girl.”

Like that girl, and her family. They had just been looking for a safe place.
And we weren’t that safe place.
Pa killed them for what they had, just cause he wanted payment for what he’d done and they had refused. The price he’d asked was too high and things had gotten nasty.  They hadn’t understood that everything was expensive in an apocalypse.

"What do I do?"
"Take it like a man," Garrick grumbled. it was easier for him had been beaten into shape already, into the misshapen form of Pa.
"No." Cale whispered. Then louder as he shook his head, "No." He looked up into Garrick’s eyes, defiance surged up, filling those weak places with crushing strength.
What did you say, buddy?” Danger was talking again, squirming out from that place behind Garrick’s battered face.

Cale breathed deep and turned walking toward the road. He threw a look over his shoulder. “I said no, I’m not going to be here when Pa wakes up. I’m gonna be already gone and he has no way to chase me with no truck.”
"Wait." Something in Garrick’s voice made Cale’s steps falter. His torn converse, baptized in dust, came to scudding stop.

"Don’t leave me with him, without you, I won’t survive."
"We gotta do what we have to to survive Garrick, isn’t that what Pa taught us." Cale countered, hating the truth of those words like they were bile in his mouth. "So, come and survive with me."

Garrick looked afraid, really truly afraid, his eyes wide, scar-twisted mouth half open. Cale turned and walked toward the old broken highway, each unhindered step, freeing him, granting him a strangely buoyant peace. Then he heard the heavy dragging steps of his brother, slowly following him and Cale smiled for the first time in forever.

Picture source- http://peterhasky.deviantart.com/art/--273960298