Your Story: June

It’s time for you to take me through the storms of imagination trapped in your noggin.  It’s time for you to tell me a grand story, or write me a small poem.  Anything will do, including a simple word.  Just write.

Your Story is a SethSnap series in which you get to decide the story behind the photos.  You can write a story, a poem or even just one word.  You decide.  To see previous Your Story posts click on “Story Time” on the right.

DSC_0023 copy

 

Advertisements

53 responses to “Your Story: June

  1. The wind and the rain weave the fabric of life that tries to keep us connected to nature, in spite of our best efforts to pretend we are apart from nature, above the earth.

      • The third photo.
        My dad and I were in Union Gap, WA, outside of Yakima. We were heading right towards a storm. I was driving the Outback. We hit the storm and had no idea it had once been a tornado that originated in Salem, OR.
        It was the ONLY time in my life that I froze. The hail was 4-6 inches deep, the lightning was everywhere, hitting cars, the ground, trees.
        A semi went by, my dad yelled “FOLLOW HIM!” I stayed on his tail, 80 mph just clinging to the wheel. I could only see his lights if I was within 3ft of his trailer. I thought we were going to die.
        Someone did.
        My dad and I still talk about this.
        I used to LOVE a good storm. Mother Nature showed me her power, and I have great respect for her.

  2. The rain lashed the windscreen as the wipers battled to withstand the storm’s fury. But that was as nothing to the lacerating scorn that my wife spat at me as she ploughed through the foul weather. I had known things were not good between us. The constant arguments over the past few years and protests from neighbours at her banshee screams were proof of that. But the news that she was demanding a divorce hit me like a hammer. Not the first time she had threatened this, of course. But there was no changing her this time, that was obvious. I struggled to keep the sick emptiness I felt from swallowing me. God knows I had tried to make this work. My cheeks flushed as I recalled standing on the altar promising to cherish her forever – no matter what. Her bright eyes gleamed as she swore the same oath to me but now they were like pinpricks from hell as she glared at me with contempt. I felt violated and could feel the humiliation as the guys at work would laugh at me. My parents and sisters would blame me – they always did. I couldn’t take it. This was the last straw. Okay, fine. But I would not let her gat away with this. Oh, no. Two could play this game. So, I wrenched open the door and threw myself into the cold embrace of the storm. For the briefest instant the pain and the blackness felt good . . .

  3. Life is beautiful!
    Is that not what the winds are saying?
    Life is beautiful!
    The trees, clouds and skies are showing it!

    You’ve got some beauty!
    That’s why you are unique in some ways.
    You’ve got some beauty!
    Don’t discard yours for something you see!

    -Nnamonu Tochukwu. Teecee.

  4. An angel paints the sunrise for her. “Can i make her smile? An angel paints the day sky. “Can i warm her?” An angel brings the dark, pit pat of the rain. This is my girl’s favorite painting. She’ll be curling up for a much needed nap. I win you two! I know my girl.

  5. The green meadows, the tree branches shadow the sky with clouds ..tell us about the time when its June and it must rain..in a wonderful tune. First the thunder then the lightning and finally shower down on me. I feel..as I get soaked in its thrashing melody..no matter how it drenches me..I whisper to the rainfall behind the window pane..I feel you rains..I like it when you wash away my worries and pain. Thank you for coming again ..to relieve me of unsaid unwanted pain

  6. The storm she was driving through was grand and the raindrops rolling on the window were rivaled by the tears dripping down her cheeks. “How in the world can I tell my family this,” she wondered?

  7. June didn’t knew what to think. Is it me, or something else, she thought in her mind. Not a good time to think about other things while driving through the rainstorm.

  8. first photo:
    swaying fields of corn,
    wheat, beans and hay
    I will never ever morn
    harvesting many a day
    memories from my childhood
    I ran from with all my might
    landing in a glorious forest
    filled with rain and brilliant light
    sasquatch creeping in the night
    few fields swaying in a bow
    yet much more lush instead
    a rain forest cloaks me now
    it fills me deeply with greens
    and bright vivid flowers so sweet
    but a tiny part of me still resides
    in the swaying winter wheat

  9. Well, it went just like this.The openness first widening in the distance, the embrace of potent color and heat softened by texture and pure colors. And then rain beating and bushing against skin and windows. It went like that, our day together: the long afternoon melding into twilight,
    the greyness blurring your edges. “Open the windows!” I insisted, and we sat in wind’s damp currents.

  10. And with the rolling sky’s light dimming
    We wander home through fields
    Chasing blue horizons

    Our efforts drowning
    In the evening’s defeat
    We ride the rest of the way home

  11. There are days, when the world seems like it could go on forever, and others where everything that exists is one small meadow with infinite possibilities. I remember standing in one such field when I was ten.
    I was hoping to find a box turtle, but settled for some black berries instead. The world was simpler then, but I still look at that field and remember. I remember playing in that field. I remember when the boys mowed a maze in the tall grasses and we caught fireflies in the moonlight.
    I remember the neighborhood baseball game, adults vs. children, but more than anything I remember how the promise of summer hung in the air, like the sweet scent of freshly mown hay.
    A universe of possibilites in one moment of time. I breathe in the memory with my eyes and I am there again, if only for a moment.

  12. Oh my, serene, peaceful. I see that I’m not in combat and PTSD is gone, no anxiety…just me in total balance between harmony and nature…a free Indian…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s