The Fire of Fall

Driving out on this bright and lovely fall day re-opened my eyes and mind to the great outdoors.  The trees, even whole groves, were aflame with autumn colors.  When had I last actually looked at the trees? Maybe at spring budding.

Seeing the trees afire with color reminded me of a poem I wrote some years back about walking through the crackling fallen leaves, thereby aurally rekindling the visual fire.

I have no idea where that poem is, but maybe I'll dig it up one of these days and share it with you.  Meanwhile enjoy the season.  Fall is the best - but always too short.

Misty River - Reflections on Life and Friendship

Misty, misty river
Views fore and aft are dim
Our destination is not clear
And neither where we've been

Fragile little vessels
Straining against the flow
Raging through the defiles
Lonely, lonely, on we row

Two lonely little vessels
Meeting blindly in the mist
Lashing the two together
Into a steady companionship

Bravely, bravely sailing forth
On this sturdy, steady ship
Seeking the eternal ocean
Together in the murky, murky mist

Malik and Kazar at the Pit (Malik Story)

This is part of a longer story. To make any sense of it you probably need to know:

Malik is a prince who has been turned into a female dog by an evil wizard (he can speak canine when in dog form)
Silas - a very high-strung chipmunk that Malik has met after escaping the wizard's keep (he is a linguist and knows canine speak)
El Kazar - a big wolf, fierce and territorial but not evil (of course he speaks canine)
geaster - a birth stone (received at birth) always a comfort to the owner, a channel for magic when wielded by a person with magic
This portion of the story takes place after a moonlit chase - El Kazar, chasing after Malik who was a stranger encroaching on Kazar's territory, ends up trapped in a pit


Silas, with an expression of horror, replied, "In the pit." His tone coarse with distress, he continued, "I couldn't stop him. He was intent on pursuing you and didn't see me signaling."

Malik slowly, painfully gained his feet and stretched his neck to look over the log. A dark pit gaped just beyond the downed tree. With Silas clinging to his back, he trotted around the log and cautiously approached the hole.

A sorrowful whine escaped from the shaft and reverberated through the stillness of the moonlit night. Malik's heart juddered at the sound. A strange sense of urgency overcame him, and he forgot his enmity and terror. This was a poor, helpless beast caught in a fatal trap. It would be a long, suffering death.

Maintaining caution, step by careful step Malik and Silas approached the rim of the pit. Peering in, they could dimly see by the light of the moon. Kazar was fighting to free himself from tangled, green tendrils. He seemed panicked. Somehow, Malik could feel Kazar's panic and his rapidly increasing exhaustion.

"Jump," Malik yelled. "Jump." El Kazar made a valiant attempt, but for naught. The pit was deep and the tendrils held him fast. This was not the way. "Save your efforts. Rest and we'll think for a moment."

If only I had my geaster, even though I'm a dog, I'd try to bring forth my undeveloped powers, Malik thought. Suddenly he felt an assurance in his heart. He didn't know where it came from, but he simply knew he would save this magnificent beast. He had to. After all, he was not only a dog, he was a prince of the Rijarik Kingdom. He only needed to calm himself and think. In man form, how would he solve this conundrum? Tools. As a man he would look at tools to solve this problem - somehow bridge the height, somehow use a line to pull the wolf up. As a dog, tools were useless.

Silas was pacing, muttering, peering over the edge of the pit, "Oh, dear. Oh, dear. What can we do? What can we do?"

"You can settle down. Settle and think." Malik hissed through his teeth. "We need to consider the problem calmly. Think. We could use the log right here next to the pit. It's conveniently situated." Silas began bouncing and chirping. "No, as a dog, I have no arms," Malik said pushing against the log with his head and one shoulder. "And I don't have the weight to push it to the proper position."

Silas, no longer bouncing and chirping, plopped down and sat with head hanging. Then he popped up, slid down off the log, and joined Malik next to the log. "I'll help. We'll be a team."

Malik nearly growled in anger, but instead put his shoulder to the log in furious frustration. Next to him little Silas pushed with all his might grunting loudly. Malik cocked an eye in his direction, his frustration growing until it felt as though it would vent through his ears. He knew they would accomplish nothing, but as his anger increased he pushed without letup. Suddenly, he fell to the ground. The tree was rapidly upending and Silas was flung up and away. As he lay panting, he watched in horror as Silas took flight.

Shocked, he realized what he was seeing. One end of the log was now up in the air, the other disappeared down into the pit! The height of the hole was bridged. Malek grinned widely as Silas came wobbling and wavering back and sprawled on the moonlit grass.

"What are you grinning about?' Silas asked testily. Malik, still speechless, just pointed his nose in the direction of the now upended tree. Silas stared, only now grasping the significance of the trunk poking out from the pit.

Slowly his eyes turned to Malik, who grinned again and said, "Silas, you sneak! Why did you not tell me of your magical abilities?"

"Me?" Silas squeaked. "I have no magic. No, no,no. I have none. Any magic in the deed had to have come from you."

Malik's grin disappeared and he choked. "Me? I have no magic yet." He faltered, then continued in a wondering voice, "Not yet. But I'm of an age for my powers to assert themselves. But, no. I'm a dog. I have to be a man, don't I?"

"Well, I don't know, I don't know. But it didn't come from me." He made a show of peering around the meadow. "Doesn't seem to be anyone else with magic in the vicinity, now, does it? Unless it came from El Kazar. But no, no, no. If he had magic he wouldn't be in the predicament, he's in, would he? So then, it appears your powers can assert themselves even while you are a dog. My, my, my."

Malik rolled over and studied the bright moon as he considered Silas' words. Well, now, this was an interesting turn of events. If his powers were developing, how would he direct and control them as a dog and without training? This he knew was a trying time even if the recipient was a trained young mage, as developing powers were difficult to control, capricious and unpredictable. It was rather like a boy's uncontrollable adolescent voice change, but with dire possibilities.

Kazar howled piteously, and Malik and Silas both started. "Oh my, oh my, oh my, is El Kazar pinned under the log?"

Both rushed to the edge of the pit. "Are you all right? Did the log crash onto you?" Malik called down.

"No, I didn't get hurt. But I'm still trapped."

"Just climb up the log," Malek offered.

"I think it is too steep, but I can't try it. I'm tangled in these confounded tendrils and can't get loose," Kazar growled.

"Silas can climb down and assist you." He glanced at Silas who hissed irritably. "Well, you can, Silas. Why not?" Malik said.

"I don't like that pit. Not one bit. Not a bit."

"Well," Malik replied. "You are built for climbing. You could easily climb down, help release him, and climb back out. No problem."

"No problem. No, indeed. Easy for me. Oh, yes, indeed, very easy," Silas grumbled sarcastically. Malik simply stared at him until Silas dropped his eyes. "All right, all right," he mumbled. He slowly approached the upended log, paused and said, "Nasty pit, dirty pit, I don't like this. Not one bit."

Malik merely growled softly deep in his throat.

"All right, all right. I'm going already, yes, I am," he said as he began making his way down the log.

Upon reaching the bottom, he climbed over and around the big wolf and examined the tendrils binding Kazar. "Yes, yes. I'll just gnaw apart this one at the back of your neck and this one at the base of your tail. Then I think you'll be free. Yes, yes, I think that'll do it. Then we'll escape from this dirty pit. Dirty, dirty pit."

He began gnawing at the vine which looped around behind Kazar's neck. After only a couple of chomps, he drew back sharply, spitting and choking. "Oh, bad, nasty. Oh, terrible stuff. I can't chew that. No, no, no." A low growl reached his ears; he looked up into Karzar's eyes and dropped his gaze to the dripping muzzle below. "Okay, okay. I'll do it. I'll do it." And he set forth on the task immediately.

Soon, Kazar was free of the tendrils and happily testing his freedom in the limited space, while Silas spit and gagged dramatically, groaning as if he were dying. Kazar shot a look in his direction and suddenly Silas forgot his misery and scampered quickly up the log.

Malik called down to Kazar, "Just climb up the log. You'll be free in no time."

Kazar attempted to climb but his paws did not offer the purchase that Silas' claws did. It was too steep. He couldn't do it.

"What can we do? What can we do?" Silas moaned.

Malik said, "Quiet. Think."

"Use your magic, my prince. Use your magic."

"Silas, I have no control over it. I don't know how to use magic." Malik pondered for a moment, then suggested, "Maybe we can use those vine tendrils. Do you think there is one long enough to reach from the top to the bottom of the pit?"

Silas groaned. "You'll insist I gnaw those putrid vines again. You will. I know you will."

"Well, you'll have to find a long one and bring one end to the top. I suppose you'll have to grip it with your mouth to do that."

"Not so bad as gnawing it. Okay, I'll go down in that dirty, dirty hole again." And off he scampered, down the log into the pit.

Kazar, having heard this exchange, had already scouted out the vines, carefully keeping his distance from them. He pointed out one that looked long enough and Silas grabbed it without a complaint. Pulling and tugging, he labored up the log saying nothing because his mouth was full, to his utter disgust. As he reached the top, Malik grabbed the vine, and Silas immediately let go and exaggeratedly began spitting.

Ignoring Silas' drama, Malik trotted out far from the hole to extend enough line to avoid any slippage back into the hole. When he released it, he was glad he was far from Silas and facing away from him, so Silas couldn't see him gagging.

Trotting back, he looked into the pit. "Grab the other end, Kazar. If I pull as you climb, we should finally have you free."

"I've been looking and I cannot find the other end. This vine winds around and around and seems endless."


Malik looked at Silas, who began moaning, "Why me? Why me? The little guy always gets the raw deal." Both Malek, nearby, and El Kazar, from the bottom of the pit, gazed, expressionless, at him. "Oh, all right. All right. Down into that dirty pit again."

Once more he climbed down the log. Ignoring Kazar, he quickly gnawed off the vine at the right length, gagged and spit, perfunctorily this time, then rushed up to the rim. "It's done. Now you pull, Malik, and I'll keep watch and direct you."

With Malik at one end, Kazar at the other end, and Silas officiously directing the action, the big wolf was soon free. All three were exhausted by this time, so Kazar thanked them quickly but profusely, then extended an invitation. "We're all tired, the night is soon done. We need a secure place to sleep. I know just the place."


Malik, feeling like a blushing young girl must feel when indecently propositioned, hung his head not knowing how to respond. "Uh, no, I think not. You see. . "

"She's a he. She's a prince. She doesn't want a mate," Silas burst in.

"I won't pretend I understood all that," Kazar said with a bemused expression. "But neither of you has anything to fear. You've saved my life and El Kazar will not forget it. You will always be safe, welcome guests in my domain. You have my friendship for life."

More Cliche' Mashing

Cliche' mashing was not an intended feature of this blog, but banishing one by writing about it did work (mostly). Now, it seems I have a couple more banging around in those nether regions I fondly refer to as my mind.

Just last week, I was introduced to a new way of expressing "testing his mettle." While reading a book, an old book utilizing the old convoluted and self-conscious prose of the time, I came across a reference to a man's metal. It was a free Kindle version of the book and I dismissed it as a typing error, but then it was repeated.

I thought, "Well, even authors of days gone by made mistakes." What intrigued me, though, was not only a total of three references to the man's metal, but also a description mentioning the iron in the man!

So now I have this mashed cliche' running through my mind while I wonder, "Did the author not know the difference between mettle and metal or was he deliberately playing with my mind?"

Wish he was still alive so I could ask.

So while we're at it, here's another that flits in and out of the cobwebs between my ears - "for all intents and purposes." I think the mashed version, for all intensive purposes, was brought to me verbally, but I don't remember for sure.

I think what intrigues me the most about mashed cliches is the way they sound like the originals and can mean almost exactly the same, but can also mean something different.

Okay, I'll admit it - I'm a word geek.

But still, I want these bothersome phrases banished. Begone!

College 30 Years Later

This post, too, is inspired by the young man entering University of Minnesota as mentioned in the previous post.

When I decided to go to college some thirty years after high school, family and friends reacted in a variety of ways. Some were very supportive, some carefully avoided comment, and some were openly amused. One even suggested that I may not have time to earn a degree before retirement!

I tried to play it casual, tried giving people the impression that this was no big deal, but it was, in fact, a very big deal to me, on a par with going to the dreaded high school.

Let me share some items from my journals. Here are some excerpts from entries near the beginning of my first quarter:

My first visit to the college was to the financial aid office to check on the costs and the various methods for paying for a venture into higher education. On that and subsequent visits to that office, I felt uncomfortable, but I could pass myself off as a visitor in the corridors, so it wasn't too bad.

Then came the day of assessment tests. Now there was no way I could pretend I was just a visitor. This was a test day, indeed, and the assessments weren't the only tests to face; I had to begin admitting I was a student.

I began worrying about the ordeal forty miles before reaching the school. It was tempting to just drop the idea. I think even my car was hesitant about it, because it didn't travel as fast as usual. But I summoned up some courage and speed and arrived with time to spare.

I decided I would do this thing and it wouldn't be too bad. I refused to think ahead to the beginning of classes. I would concentrate on how great it would be to complete my education. Somehow I would endure.

The first day of classes approached; this would be another real test! It was also the first day of a new job. Although my new employers knew I was going to school, one full day on the job was strongly encouraged. I was willing; I could put off the first day of class. Yes, I was very willing!

But there had to be a first day sometime, so the next day at the appointed time, I tripped off to class, albeit with a great deal of trepidation. As I walked through the corridors carrying books and supplies, I hoped everyone would assume I was faculty (in a matter of weeks I had promoted myself from mere visitor to faculty!).

Hoards of young people were passing through those corridors. They all seemed familiar with the layout of rooms, the routine, and one another. (Did I mention that I always seem to be the only one who doesn't know these things?) How do people know these things?

Arriving at my first classroom, I felt uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice me and my advanced age. They ignored me. When the class began, I directed my thoughts to it.

Later in the journal:

I am amazed. The students either talk to me or ignore me -- either way they make no big deal of it. I guess I had expected the young people to be openly disparaging; I don't know why.

Because I did not expect to enjoy this experience, I had decided to grit my teeth and just endure. Though I still experience some discomfort, I am beginning to feel more at ease and am enjoying my classes.

Near the end of my first quarter:

As I was perusing the new schedule, I realized I am beginning to feel comfortable in the role of student. I guess I had resigned myself to feeling strange and uncomfortable for the duration, but I enjoy the courses and am gaining much from this experience. After all, the pursuit of knowledge should be a life-long project and not the exclusive prerogative of youth.

I'm excited about the next quarter. I do, however, sort of hate to see this quarter end.

So, young man beginning at U of M, if an old person can adjust in just one quarter, you, being young and probably mysteriously knowing all the rooms, routines, and other students, will settle in very quickly. You'll do great!

School begins anew

The school year has begun and I know a young man who is beginning his first quarter at U of M. I'm sure it has been a less-than-comfortable week for him. Brings to mind some of my school experiences.

I can still remember my first year of school (yeah, I CAN remember that far back!). We lived in a remote part of northern Minnesota on a farm and seldom went to town. We didn't see friends, relatives, or neighbors much, either. In other words, I was an isolated little 'fraidy cat when it came to meeting people (brave about hanging in the uppermost branches of trees, though).

We did not have pre-school or kindergarten but were plopped right into first grade. I had the advantage, though, of an older brother attending the same elementary school as I. He was in a different room, but rode the same bus with me, and it was a comfort to know he was in the same building.

Before I started school, my older brother missed the better part of a year due to a severe illness. During that time, he was home schooled by my mom while I hung over her shoulder. I learned a lot, including how to read. So although socially I was far from ready for school, academically I was more than ready and anxious to learn more.

I survived the shock of my first days at school and predictably loved the exciting new world of playmates and classmates and regimented learning. Each summer was a great break, but I was ready to return to school long before the next term began.

Until . . . high school!

For high school I was even less prepared. My little three-room grade school ran out of grades after eighth, then we were bussed to a consolidated high school. Okay, I'll concede the high school wasn't very large, but after a three-room school and an eight-person class, that place seemed immense!

And as it always happens with me, everyone else seemed to know all the other people, where things were, and what was expected. I knew none of it! I was terrified! I was lost. I was alone.

Unlike grade school, adjusting to high school took a long time. But I survived and finally did become comfortable with it. I suffered only one discernible lingering effect - for at least twenty years after graduating, I wandered the halls and corridors of that frighteningly large school in my dreams desperately hunting for my locker!

Well, back to the young man at U of M. The University truly is a very large school, but he is so much more prepared for the transition. He has attended large schools all of his life and previously has made successful transitions between schools. He's very talented academically and has experience with college courses. He's braver and socially more adept than I'll ever be. Although he may become lost or disoriented at first, I doubt he'll spend the next twenty years wandering around that school in his dreams.