A Christmas story

By Lynn Elder

THE tin soldier laid on the bare boards underneath the sweet smelling pine tree adorned with tinsel, angels and assorted shiny Christmas ornaments.

Made of lead his bright uniform faded and tarnished, this unloved ornament was ignored and swept under the voluminous mountains of wrapping paper.

The noisy children had departed with their newly acquired gifts to another part of the house.

Their parents had wandered off to enjoy a mince pie and a glass of mulled wine before the call up for the traditional festive lunch.

If one looked closely at the tin soldier laying so still, there was the slightest hint of a tear on his face.

The paper covering him had fallen to the side leaving him exposed and forlorn.

There was an eeriness in the room and a quietness which was suddenly interrupted by the muffled sobs of an older woman sitting on the couch.

She was distracted by a glint of something lying under the tree.

Curious she got up to inspect what it was.

The tin soldier was scooped up in her wrinkled hands and her glasses perched on her nose as she peered at her new discovery.

A tear fell onto the ornament as the realisation of what this find meant to her so many years later.

Suddenly it felt like the tin soldier was speaking to her.

“You know he never stopped loving you and thought of you every day”.

This was the last Christmas present her father had given her before setting off to fight in a far away war.

Bittersweet memories emerged as she remembered sitting on his knee as a little girl and him reading aloud “The Steadfast Tin Soldier” from a collection of Hans Anderson’s Fairy Tales.

It was a reminder that love endures even if  we do not.

A second tear appeared on the tin soldier’s face as the woman placed him on the tree in prime position on the very top.  

Writing prompt 12 Days of Christmas with Melissa Gijsbers Day 1. On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me… a partridge in a pear tree! Write a story featuring an unusual Christmas tree decoration.

Autumn colour among the stillness

By Lynn Elder

Of all the seasons, I have one that is dear
Not one that brings lots of fear
Due to storms and massive rain
That do bring damage and pain.

A season that is mild and still
Where mists can swirl until
A warm sun breaks through the cloud
While a farmer has his crops sowed.

The icy fingers of winter are yet to arrive
But a touch of dew does give
A sense of coolness yet to come
That will make your body numb.

No other season can give such golden hues
And call for blessings from the pews
While nature chooses from the richest spectrum
Of colours to woo us all so we all left dumb.

PHOTOS: Lynn Elder

The river – a metaphor for my life

By Lynn Elder

Slow and sluggish during times of scarcity
Fast and furious when abundance reigns
And just a steady stream of activity in between.
Crescendos as water pours over rocky cascades,
Tranquil and still during times of less rain.

Sparkling as a jewel on a sunny day
Gloomy as the darkest winter's day.
The river travels far, not always aware of its destination.
But end the river must, if it is to become part of something bigger.
The river, a metaphor for my life. 

My spiny friend

By Lynn Elder

When the skies turn bright blue and baking hot,
That is when a creature will seek out,
A respite from the blazing sun above, 
And take a splash in water they do so love. 

The echidna feels the heat as the mercury soars, 
And gives him reason to pause,
Chasing busy ants with his probing beak, 
And consider taking a break.

From the ant heap to the verandah, he does roam, 
For there, he senses that at this home, 
Lies untold luxury into which he does clamber, 
A water bowl to wash, and then to slumber.

Oh, to drown in a sea of roses

If one rose can bring so much pleasure
How much more joy can a bunch bring 
Or even a basket full.
A blooming bush bursting with buds is a delight,
As is a huge climbing rose full of heavenly scent.
Make a garden bed full of roses to enjoy,
Or a whole garden dedicated to the rose and stroll about at leisure.

By Lynn Elder

Wet, wet, wet, spring

By Lynn Elder

Splashes of yellow bright sunshine comes between,
Splashes of water bouncing upon the already drenched earth.
Splashes of red and blue announce the arrival of the rosellas,
Splashes of water in the bowls as they frolic and beg for seed.
Splashes and quacking as ducks land on overflowing dams.

Splashes of running water cascading over temporary waterways.
Splashes of mud and water as gumboots wade through.
Splashes and squelching as cattle sink into the quagmire.
Splashes of furious currents as spillways release the excess water. 
Splashes as the four-wheel drive negotiates the potholes and puddles.

Splashes on the ground as the rainwater tank overflows.
Splashes of colour emerge in the form of flowers when grey clouds roll away.
Splashes of flowery fashions appear on the sunny spring days.
Splashes continue with each rainy day that insists on not stopping too soon. 

			

Creative Gems Volume 1 is out now!

It was such joy to be part of this fun project with so many talented bloggers sharing their creative gifts. Andrea’s illustrations were the starting point for the children’s poems and short stories that were contributed. I came up with a story about cats shopping on-line would you believe! Her blog post below will steer you in the direction of how to obtain your own copy. Happy reading!

Andrea's avatarAndrea, illustrator

About 4 months ago, I posted a silly idea of making a book together.
I asked people to write a short story or poem based on any of the drawings on my website.

It quickly became clear that more than just a few were interested.
More than 20 authors have submitted their story and I am so happy to announce that from today on, the collection is stories accompanied with colorful drawings are available on Amazon either as ebook, paperback or hardcover!

It look amazing and I can’t thank everyone enough for sharing their talent and support with me!

If you would like a copy, check on of the links below!

Amazon US

Amazon UK

Amazon CA

Amazon DE

Amazon IN

Amazon AU

P.s. I have been asked to do a 2nd book like this and I am more than happy to! 😄 I will keep you guys updated…

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The Sea

By Lynn Elder

The calm sea. Photo: Lynn Elder
Listen to the crashing waves,
Hear the cry of a lonely gull,
Feel the sting of the salty sea.

Hear the screams of a girl,
Young and frail,
As the giant waves,
Wash her away.

The waves whip the body away,
Far away from the sandy shore.
To the sea it doesn't matter,
Who dies in its icy depths.

When the sea is still,
And the flock of gulls,
Fly overhead,
None could believe,
That the sea could take a life.
 

Five year anniversary, what does it mean?

Happy Anniversary with WordPress.com!

You registered on WordPress.com 5 years ago.

Thanks for flying with us. Keep up the good blogging.

This just popped up in my notifications and although I knew this blogging journey began in 2017 it still took me by surprise to see it has been five years. It coincided with my move from the city back to my country origins to begin a new life with my husband on 25 acres. Some things have worked out as expected and others have had their challenges, but looking back and given what has expired with the COVID-19 Pandemic, we made the right decision for us. My blog started out as more of a journal in words and pictures but now it is time to expand my horizons and stretch my creative self more than ever. There have been some sad goodbyes and happy moments to relish but through it all there has been a divine hand on my life. May my faith not waiver as we embrace another year of uncertainty but discover how precious life is and all that we have to be grateful for. Happy blogging one and all!

Summer sizzle

Sun-dried hills signal hot summer days.

By Lynn Elder

The change of seasons comes in a rush
Of hot air and wilted grasses in the bush.
No need to clear out the ash and stoke the fire
As ceiling fans whir above, and with a beer
In hand the farmer wipes the free-flowing sweat
From his sun-beaten face, and without a beat
Flicks off the pesky blowflies settled on his work shirt.
His wife tucks her tea towel in the band of her skirt,
Then says as she leans wearily against the kitchen wall.
 "It's too bloody hot to eat anything at all!".


			

Christmas with the Smiths

By Lynn Elder – A short story

A feel good song.

She moved a hairbrush through her little one’s tangled strands of long auburn hair. Strains of the Wiggles could be heard from the television in the adjoining room as they jumped about singing “Hot Potato.” It reminded Sarah of the holiday concert she took her twins Annabel and Chloe to last Christmas. There was a red, a blue, a purple and a yellow Wiggle. Times had changed, though, with the arrival of a female Wiggle who donned the yellow skivvy.

The Smith family had survived another Christmas yesterday with the extended family present. Every year there was trepidation as to what the day would bring. Peace and joy to the world were not the first words to spring to mind. Her in-laws were not essentially bad people, but Sarah struggled to find anything in common with Fred and Myrtle. They held extreme conservative political views that did not align with their environmentally minded daughter-in-law.

Buying Christmas presents was not an easy task either, and Sarah’s husband Brett was happy to offload the task to her. It was not something she relished, because in previous years, the response to her gift selections was lukewarm, to say the least.

Sarah braved the crowded shopping centre a week earlier as the dutiful wife she was, searching for appropriate gifts. One positive was the elegant gift wrapping that the shops provided, sparing her from another job in an otherwise busy time of year.

Christmas Day arrived with the in-laws on the front step. As was the custom, the grandchildren insisted that they open their presents before the big, cooked lunch. Sarah thought to herself, let us get this part of the day done with. Brett welcomed his parents with big hugs while the twins tugged at his jumper, urging him to hurry up. Soon they were all settled into the sofas facing the brightly decorated pine tree surrounded by presents. The girls squealed with delight on opening their gifts from Grandma and Grandpa. They were still young enough to enjoy playing dress-ups with their Barbie dolls. Then it was like a game of pass the parcel, as the various gifts were handed around.

Fred ripped the paper as he opened his present, which revealed a book about vintage trains. Sarah held her breath as she waited for his reaction. Thankfully, he was gracious enough to say he had almost bought a copy for himself recently. One down. One more to go. The sausage-shaped present was in the hands of Myrtle now. She was more delicate in undoing the pretty wrapping paper and the curly ribbon. A long skinny item fell onto her lap being a posh-looking umbrella. Myrtle exclaimed, “Oh, what a lovely but useful present. Living in Melbourne, you never know when it may rain.” She opened it to display the impressionist art of Renoir. Arty but practical, Sarah thought to herself. The reaction was better than hoped for. The gift-giving ritual was now completed. Lunch was still an hour away, so the adults stood up and stretched as the twins played with their new toys.

Fred surprised Sarah when he picked up the blue guitar leaning against the wall in the living room. Brett had bought it for her last Christmas. Unfortunately, looking after two lively twin daughters and running a business from home, learning to play the guitar was not a priority. Chloe and Annabel were distracted enough to urge Grandpa to play a tune. Sarah imagined him playing something akin to a call to arms for fellow comrades. She did not even know he could play a musical instrument. Imagine her astonishment when the girls’ favourite Wiggles’ tune, “Hot Potato”, was played. Before anyone could protest, all the adults were up and dancing with the twins. Sarah and Brett exchanged a hug and a kiss, while her husband, shouted over the music, “Best Christmas yet!”

12 Days of Christmas writing prompt: Using the following random words, write a Christmas, summer, or holiday themed story. Potato, Guitar, Book, Umbrella, Hair brush

Prompt provided by author Melissa Gijsbers.