Times Past: 4-Wheeling the West

Carrot Ranch Literary Community

Times Past at Carrot Ranch by @Charli_MillsGen X, rural California, USA

Granny-gear is as expected: slow, slow enough a toddler can drive. If that sounds surprising, you’ve not grown up on cattle ranches in the American west. Every buckaroo has stood behind the wheel (yes, stood because to sit is to lose sight over the dusty dash).

“Hold it straight, follow the rows,” were the instructions I remember.

Where are the adults, you might wonder. On the back of the truck, flaking hay.

Back when I was a toddling buckaroo on one of the oldest land grant ranchos in northern California, my task was to steer the truck straight so the adults could cut the wires on rectangular bales of hay (each weighing about 125 pounds) and peel away portions. The hay was dry and it came off in chunks called flakes. The herd of 300 black ballies (a nickname for the cross-breed of Black…

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A You

Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister

If I closed my eyes and saw simple perfection,
there would be a you.

Words sought by princess’, over hills around mountains, were written
and shared by you.

Dreams play out in forms of melodies I’ve never heard,
but belong to you.

Pools of tears welling up
and lying fearless in my eyelids
await you.

Happily ever after didn’t exist
in plain surroundings,
until the belief of you.

Now I seek every moment,
listening humbly,
for a you.

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Há censura em Portugal? Há.

BLASFÉMIAS

Há vários dias que tumultos tomaram conta de Paris e outras cidades francesas.

Alguém viu referência nos media nacionais? Nadinha.

É ir ao youtube e colocarem «riots france 2017» ou« violence france 2017» ou qualquer variação no género. Não falta material filmado.

França é um país há meses em Estado de emergência, vigorando fortes limitações nas liberdades individuais e uma hiper-vigilância sobre tudo e todos. Ainda assim, sucede tudo isto.

Porque será que em Portugal censuraram tais notícias?

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Revisionist Sympathy

Consolation's Many Forms

Nothing ruins a good story like telling it to someone who actually remembers the details.

On Valentine’s day this last week, I posted the following on Facebook:


On this day in history, 1973, I had a tiny classroom valentine I had given to a girl returned to me, unopened. I was in 5th grade.

Everybody gave valentines to everybody. How she knew it was mine I’ll never know.

I knew it was deliberate when I heard some other girls complaining that they didn’t know they were allowed to do that, or they would have, too.

Happy Valentine’s Day.


Pretty sad, huh?

Yes it is… as I told it. However, I talked to my sister this last weekend (that would be my sister Squashya Russell) and she reminded me of a few facts I left OUT of my telling of the story. Squashya is seven years older than I am, and…

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