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The Fruit of Patience is Sweet

As a child I was always told that the fruit of patience is sweet. I believed it. What my elders didn’t tell me was: Patience is bitter, but its fruit is sweet. Anyways, since I had no idea about the —patience is bitter part — I always believed that the fruit of patience was sweet and so was patience.

Two years back, I developed a new hobby — gardening. People who have been reading my blog already know about this interest of mine. I had shared a few photos of my terrace garden. You would laugh when you would know that I just have 20 or- so flower pots on my so- called- terrace- garden. I do! So you should laugh, too.

I cannot play favourites with my plants. They all are my favourites.

However, as a child I had seen a Chinese orange plant in our school garden. I feel in love with it. Its tiny little oranges seemed no less than a miracle to me. I felt like somebody had squeezed a big orange tree into a miniature one. This short plant with its round lush green leaves and small oranges intrigued me a lot.  That day I decided, that if I ever see this plant, I’m going to adopt one for myself.

I did. Two years back.

Last year the plant showcased only one orange which stood triumphantly throughout the entire year.

This year it is blooming and glowing with flowers, buds and fruits. I feel that my patience has been rewarded.

I had also thrown a few tomato seeds into a pot — just for fun. First there was nothing. Then I forgot. Then came tiny green sprouts. At that moment I had to literally hold my hands from pulling them out as initially it is almost always difficult to tell if the green sprouts are unwanted weeds or wanted plants.  Anyways I chose to be patient.  In a few days I could see the shape of the leaves and understood it to be a tomato plant.

Today I’m very happy as the plant has given its first tomato. It reminds me of an episode from the serial “The Last Man on Earth” in which Carol wants to grow tomatoes and their trials and tribulations regarding it.

At the moment I just have these two fruit bearing plants. They both are rewarding me with their flowers and fruits.  Whenever I see them, I’m filled with a sense of joy and happiness.

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/sweet/

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Snowy remembrance

This is a story for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. Every week you are challenged to write a 100 word story based on a photo.

Thanks to Dale Rogerson for this week’s photo and also to Rochelle for hosting the challenge.

Thanks to all the readers for their time, too.

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

“Meg! Be careful!” said Louise.

Meg’s chuckles and footsteps echoed all around the place. Her new teddy was the reason for her happiness. Louise was tucked inside the couch. The fire emitted a warm glow. Their voices sounded comforting.

The snow was falling outside. The landscape… a fairy tale.

Suddenly I feel the chilly breeze. There is no fire for warmth. Numbness is seeping inside me.

Things are turning steely white. Memory…voices…faces…smiles…all are fading… I try calling them but they are distant.

A ball of yellow light shines from afar. I think, it’s a sun but I know it’s not.

 

Month names

Oh boy! it was a challenge to remember all those names of months. I always used to forget them. And if I ever remembered them, there order was always incorrect.

But then my mother showed me a cool way to remember them. She showed me to count them on my knuckles (as in between them).

I thought it was a cool trick. Counting them on the vallies and hills of my knuckles not only helped me to remember the order but also the number of days they had (as in, if they had 30 or a 31 days) in them. Plus I could recite them any time. That was fun!

I couldn’t wait to share this with other kids at school, then.

Now, I can’t wait to share this with other younger children. It’s good to see that the trick fills them with the same wonderment as it had once filled me with smiling eyes.

Thanks Ma.

Was inspired to write for the daily prompt:  Mnemonic

A story to tell…

This is a story for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. Every week you are challenged to write a 100 word story based on a photo.

Thanks to JS Brand for this week’s photo and also to Rochelle for hosting the challenge.

Thanks to all the readers for their time, too.

PHOTO PROMPT © JS Brand

Once upon a time there was a stranger.

I met him on a boat ride in a quiet little village.

We exchanged a few glances.

It was destiny — we kept bumping into each other.

We ended up on a sort- of- a- date at a restaurant by the lake.

When I reached my home country, I wanted to hear his voice. But I didn’t call him. I — somehow — lost his number.

A year later… I stand at the same place, thinking….

Sigh!

I look at the water playing carelessly. I wish I had given him my correct name at least.

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Guardian Angel

Whose beloved are we?

Of at least one.

If there is none, then also there is someone somewhere always looking upon us.

I had wanted to draw guardian angel for a long time. Finally I got the time to draw. I wanted to draw another one but I drew this one instead.

While I was clicking the photo the sun’s beam was falling on it. I tilted it a bit to get the angle right. It looked good and I thought of sharing this with you all.

I haven’t coloured it yet. I’m in a dilemma here. Should I colour it or just leave it. What do you suggest?

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/photo-challenges/beloved/

Time to gear up!

This is a story for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. Every week you are challenged to write a 100 word story based on a photo.

Thanks to Rochelle for  this week’s photo and also hosting the challenge.

Thanks to all the readers for their time, too.

PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

We were surrounded by trees. We didn’t know they could burn. However, one day something fell from above and burnt a part of the forest. That day we got scared. That day, we ate cooked things for the first time.

We started making fire. The wheel was in motion. Soon came a day — of nothing.

A few of us… of our race survived. We geared up in search of a brand new place. We found a brand new planet. We settled.

“Time to gear up! Our ancestors found earth. We’ll have to find someplace else before here turns grey.

 

Too late…

This is a story for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. Every week you are challenged to write a 100 word story based on a photo.

Thanks to Sandra Crook for this week’s photo and also to Rochelle for hosting the challenge.

Thanks to all the readers for their time, too.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

Jack was crazy about Bruce Lee.

He was a killer only if looks could kill. This time when he wanted to impress Tina, his girlfriend, he went to his dad.

“Can I borrow your new electric…”

NO! Absolutely not!” His dad managed to utter a few words inspite of being busy.

A big crash and a thud… did steal his attention though. He ran. The entrance wall was down.

“What happened…!”

“I… don’t know. It fell.”

Walking away he smiled. An evil twinkle brightened his eyes. He soothed his knuckles with dots of red and said, “Ah!…Fist of fury!”

The place to be

This is a story for Friday Fictioneers, which is hosted by Rochelle. Every week you are challenged to write a 100 word story based on a photo.

Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for this week’s photo and also to Rochelle for hosting the challenge.

Thanks to all the readers for their time, too.

PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll

There was fun and laughter… excitement and jolly rides. It was the place to be at. I missed my bus. I was late.

The place to be… I stand looking for my wife and daughter.

The amusement park now a scene of chaos and confusion… bodies lay on the grass.

I look at… a photo of theirs… I cannot understand what is shaking vigorously — the photo or my hands or the earth. My photo gets moist without any rain. The sun is hot but my tears have filled me with an iciness. I stand. There is no fun and laughter.

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Silent Peace

Darkness melts away,

in the warm glow of a candle light.

Silence then rises and fills the space.

Everything fades away to a place where,

existent becomes non-existing

and non-existent dances in a smoke of life.

In a while all that remains in the blank space is

…stillness,

…nothingness,

not even me.

Everything then becomes silent peace….

 

Check out other entries for the photo challenge: Silence