fredag den 10. juli 2026

Words for Wednesday ~ July 8

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise, River has taken the mantle of coordinator upon her shoulders.

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

This month the words are given by me (Charlotte - MotherOwl) and can be found at River's blog
: Drifting through Life

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.

It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.

So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

And for today we were given:
Peach,
Granola Bowl,
Idea,
Wood,
Sad 
     and/or  
Turn,
Scarecrow,
Flowers,
Cauldron,
Hot,
Bubble

Also this week I'm late, and also this week I did not succeed in writing out the idea in my head. Another "here and now" is all I can do.

While I sat eating Peach Melba yoghurt form my favourite granola bowl, I got an idea. I like wood, I like working with wood. I am sad that my lathe is broken, because I find so much beautiful wood, that would be just right for the turning of a bowl.

Instead I'll maybe go and put up a scarecrow.. The crows and blackbirds are eating my redcurrants and the slugs are eating all my strawberries - a scarecrow won't help here.

Maybe I'll pick some flowers today, the marigolds and the dyer's chamomile are ready for picking.

It would be lovely to have an old cauldron to dye my wool in with the dyer's chamomile, I see it in my mind's eyes: hot, bubbling, dying hank after hank a luminous yellow. But my wonderful pot is all I have. It does not bubble, but it gets the job done.




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