The Dark Creature Passes, Part I

SPECIAL NOTE – This is horror. If you don’t like horror, turn back now. As you are turning back, notice the guy in the dark, voluminous cape. Walk toward that guy. 

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Cruckshank’s Greeting

by Karen R. Sanderson

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My old bones ache and feel as if they are frozen into the depths of their marrow. Adjusting my rump on the bale of hay, I try to settle. I pull the moth-bitten horse blanket tighter around me, my shoulder blades sticking out like two tiny wings. The breeze picks up again and disturbs the gray hair around my ears, and I shiver. Adjusting my cap, I wait.

I observe the night sky, as I have done every evening for decades. The darkness is quite complete – there are no stars in this part of the world. No twinkly gases or planets. No vaporous clouds. There is no moon. 

Long ago, in another world, I gazed upon twinkling galaxies spread with glistening paints across a blue-black canopy, listening to hooting owls and the lonely yowls of night creatures. Then…the voice of my mother…calling me home.  

I hear a clattering of hooves and that scraping, dragging sound – the souls he pulls behind him. I stand up and stretch, joints snapping. I do not know the how of it – how much longer I can endure the physical strain of this employment. But it is certainly preferred over the alternative of death. 

I see the horse’s snorting breath first – glowing red and stinking. Then the rider and his mount appear in my field of vision. The Friesian horse is sleek ebony, and the leather he wears is all black, gleaming with a high gloss and squeaking from liberal saddle soap. A most beautiful animal in an occupation most distasteful. 

The rider’s smirking countenance comes into view – a productive night, I imagine. He throws his leg jauntily over the neck of the horse, his black boot glistening with spit and polish. He floats to the ground with his cape spread like bat wings. A blanketing wave of the velvety fabric, and he is gone. The chains that are attached to the catch of the day fall clattering to the dirt.

I drag the chained souls into an immense barn, large enough to produce an echo if there were such a thing as an echo in this vacuous blackness. The granite floor flaunts an occasional scorch mark from previous burnings. Coffin-shaped boxes are lined up, waiting for their cargo. 

I consign each of the souls to a private wood-slat container. And then the burning. Their pleading voices, the crying, the screeching. Oh, if I were able to get that jangle and clank out of my head! Their cries and begging and wheeling-dealing make no difference. They are extinguished with efficient dispatch. 

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Bring peace to the holiday tug of war

Bring Peace to The Holiday Tug Of War

NOTE: Written years ago with only the Christmas holidays in mind, I am now more aware that many families celebrate many different holidays during this time of year. I think this article speaks to all families, all holidays, and the stress young marrieds and many couples feel during this time of the year. 

Holidays of yore

When I was in my twenties and a new mom, I spent many a holiday-season hour on the road. First, an hour in the car driving to my mother-in-law’s house for Christmas Eve. Then, on Christmas Day, my husband and I would pack up the car and the toddler and drive to my mom’s house in the morning and on to my sister-in-law’s house in the afternoon. 

Not the holiday I dreamed of

After the holiday, I was wiped out and angry. Every year I vowed the next year would be different. I was not having the Christmas I truly wanted, and I was frustrated. But, I didn’t know how to talk to my spouse about my holiday dreams – I wanted to start our own traditions, in our own home. 

Why do we run run run?

But why do we do this? Why do we run-run-run during the holidays? According to Kim Leatherdale, a licensed counselor and therapist in Oldwick, New Jersey, women are naturally pleasers. We want everyone to be happy; we want everything to run smoothly. As a result, we rarely get to relax and enjoy the holiday as we want. And we rarely have the opportunity to form our own family traditions. Many of us have not had the Christmas we dreamed about since we started our own family and succumbed to all the family pressure. 

The holidays are coming! 

Talking about holiday dreams and preferences is not something most couples discuss before a relationship develops or even after you say the “I do’s.” But as the holidays approach, you hear little snippets about what others continue to take for granted. Your mother-in-law might hint about the menu for her Christmas brunch or you might overhear your mom on the phone with your sister planning the Christmas Eve dinner. 

Talk now

If you hope to put your own stamp on the holidays, now is the time to discuss holiday plans with your spouse. Decide on a time to sit down and talk about it – just the two of you – before the invitations and expectations start to pile up. 

Communicate – As Dr. Elizabeth Lombardo, Wexford, PA, says, don’t imagine that your spouse is a mind reader. Sit down and talk about what you liked and did not like about last year’s holiday, what’s important and not important. Be willing to listen and compromise. Be open to each other’s ideas of how to handle the holidays, from demanding relatives to demanding schedules. 

Start your own traditions – When you are living at home with mom and dad, that’s your “bubble.” Once you are married, that should be the most important relationship. You need to move your bubble to surround you and your spouse. If you want to start new traditions in your own home with your spouse, do it.  

Tune in to the kids – Be aware of your children’s needs and desires, within reason. If your teen daughter wants to see her BFF on Christmas Day, allow an opportunity for that to happen. Invite the BFF to visit on Christmas Day and talk to her parents ahead of time. 

Be aware of feelings – Kim Leatherdale suggests you be aware of others’ feelings but don’t feel responsible for them. Understand that your mother-in-law may be upset with this new plan, but you are not responsible for making her happy – she is. And once you and your spouse decide on a plan, sit down with the families and discuss it together. 

Take turns – Has the holiday schedule of visiting been a little lopsided? More time with one family or the other? Decide to take turns – this year we go to your mom’s house for Christmas Eve, next year we go to my mom’s for Christmas Eve. And every year we spend Christmas Day at home!

De-stress the day – Wake up, grab the mug of coffee, relax and open gifts, and watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Ask visitors to drop in after 12:00 (or at a time designated by you), and ask them to bring a covered dish like a brunch casserole, a crock pot of chili, or a pan of lasagna or enchiladas. And why not use paper plates? You are de-stressing your holiday – don’t ratchet it back up by having to cook and clean all day. If you must cook the big turkey, do just that and ask everyone else to bring the extras.

Recession adjustment – Are you feeling the pinch from recession or a lost income? Perhaps it’s time to start a tradition of having a family gift-giving pool or purchase gifts just for family members under a certain age. Or use this time to teach children compassion – collect the money usually used for gifts and make a contribution to a local charity. Or collect the kids’ old toys no longer used and give them to a homeless or women’s shelter. 

Have a sourpuss? 

I polled about 30 people – young and old, parents and children, husbands and wives. Fifty percent of the responders to my survey said they felt pressure from a spouse more than anyone else. I found a handful of responders had family members who sulked because they weren’t getting their own way. Again – you are not responsible for that person’s feelings. If it’s necessary to spend part of a day with that sulky person, have an out – plan to go for a walk or to the park for an hour or plan a visit to the local science center or museum (check ahead for holiday hours!). 

Complications from divorce 

After a divorce, you need to be even more flexible, especially where children are concerned. Add to that a new blended family or additional in-laws, and you need to learn to bend before you break. I celebrated many holidays and birthdays a week before or a few days after the actual date on the calendar. I would remind myself that it’s not the date that’s important, it’s the people I spend time with. Don’t push and pull your parents or children into knots just so you can have the same Christmas morning that you’ve had for the last twenty years. 

Communication and a little forethought is all you need to plan a dream holiday. And may all your holiday dreams come true. 

“The Garden” – Part IV

The Gardener

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Squeee! 

Oh goodness, I need to oil those hinges. Every time I open the screen door, I scare away all the birds! Oh wait, there’s a couple of Cardinals up in the maple tree. Isn’t that nice: they’ve built a nest, started a home. That male Cardinal, snuggled up next to his lady, looks like they are smooching. Those Blue Jays are so raucous! Must they be so noisy? 

Hush now! 

What a lovely day, not too hot, not too chilly. I just love the spring. The sun is bright and so warm. Don’t want to get a burn, so it’s the shade for me. I’ll just sit here in my rickety lawn chair and nurture my first iced tea of the day. Ah! I really do need to pick up a new chair. My butt’s gonna bust through this thing any day. 

Oh, Hummingbirds! I should have brought my camera out with me, darn it. They are so beautiful – all those shiny colors. They look like feathered jewels. 

Vrtt! Here they are. Vrtt! There they go.

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Those silly Yellow Finches, how do they do that, hang upside down and eat? Like tiny circus acrobats. I’ve never seen any other bird hang like that. I hope those Crows over there don’t bother them. It looks like they are waiting around for some big bird announcement. The Crows, they can be a bother, always shooing and flappity-flapping their wings at the others. 

Darn it – look at that bird bath. And I just scrubbed it yesterday! Ah well. And the feeder, too – nearly empty! And look at the suet. It’s nearly gone already! Piggy birdies. Unless the squirrels are getting up there…. 

My garden, so quiet and peaceful. No traffic noises from the highway, no grandkids under foot. It’s almost too quiet. 

Twe-whoo, twe-whoo. The lady Cardinal looks at me funny – cocking her head – when I whistle. I wonder if she understands me. 

1:15…20 minutes until the ball game. Hey, that tickles—what is…? Aw, a Lady Bug. I’ll just put her on this little tea rose over here. Gently, gently, Lois. There ya go little lady! How precious, her little fluttery wings. 

Oh! A Praying Mantis! They take my breath! Look at her sitting there on that leaf, so regal, like she thinks she’s a queen. I wonder if she’s after those moths. Ew, Spiders on the trellis. Well, they serve a purpose too, I ‘spose. All these bugs, running about, so busy busy busy. 

Are those Cockroaches?! Ah!

Agnes, bring me the bug spray! Quick! Odd, it looks like that Cockroach over at the compost is wearing a grass skirt! Now why would a Cockroach need a grass skirt? 

You’re losing it, Lois. 

Oh dear, what’s with this brown spot? And all these bits of shell? Guess I’ll have to seed that. Hmm, seed, burlap, couple’a nails to hold down the burlap. Need to pull out the hose…. 

Lois! The game’s started! 

The Gardner and her grandson, circa 1981

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This four part “The Garden” was written with my Mother, Lois, foremost in my mind. She was the guiding light in my life. With her and my Aunt Agnes (“Ang”), they created a happy home. She was loved. Mom loved family, the bugs, the birds, her garden, and baseball. And she loved the written word.

“The Garden” – Part III

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The Garden Birds

My favorite time of year. Time to build a new home from fluff out of the dryer vent, discarded bits of yarn from old sweaters; weave in a few twigs and bits of lint that flutter down from clothes pinned on the Gardener’s line. Sometimes I get lucky and find a loose thread on a cloth diaper. That’s the ultimate find for a nest-builder. 

Ah, what’s that smell? My mate – in his pointed red fedora and lush black beard – has brought me a gobbet of suet sprinkled with seed! The slick and creamy delicacy feels so deliciously decadent on my beak. What a good provider he is, the most handsome Cardinal in all the garden. He winks his limpid black eye at me and asks would I like to rub wings later. He gives me an affectionate beak tweak.  

Several branches away a mad disharmony erupts between two odious Blue Jays – their crests erect, blue and black feathers engaged in a broiling rustle. They are in a duel over a female. What a ridiculous exhibition. I turn away. 

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An iridescent rainbow cascades past my branch. Ah, the Hummers. How lovely their costumes; they are a hasty parade of amethyst, ruby, sapphire, and jade. Rather ungainly beaks they have, making them the brunt of good-natured teasing. Their fluttering creates the most delicious breeze. I’d invite them in for respite, but our tastes are incompatible. 

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There is nasty business going on down in the city of bugs, among the rubbish of the compost. Most distressing. By Avian Law, we are not permitted to interfere. We must observe and silence our tweets. Their preposterous squabbles create great disorder and infect my dreams. The most recent disturbance was muffled at this distance. We have now gotten twitterings of the verdict and the horrifying news of the explosion from the orange-breasted Robins and the acrobatic Finches (I admit that I am often jealous of the Finches – the way they are able to hang upside down. What a merriment that must be!).  

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Dour-looking Crows roost on the wire adjacent to the Trellis. They wait for word from the grapevine about the filling of the bird feeder. The Crows will tell the Woodpeckers; the Woodpeckers will tack-tack the news for all to hear.

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Such yummies our Gardener puts out for us – black sunflower seeds, safflower, cracked corn, peanuts, an occasional handful of currants. Droves of Mockingbirds and Thrashers flutter in when she sets out a halved apple or other chopped fruits. I do not care for the fruits – they wreak havoc on my delicate digestion. 

Our Gardener scrubbed and re-filled the birdbath before the setting of yesterday’s sun. What a holiday atmosphere this creates! Jump in! The water is fine, so fine. The juveniles are reprimanded by their mothers about deposits recklessly left. They are sent home with quiet dispatch. 

A squeal from the portal – here she comes! The Gardener is coming! Several of our Avian persuasion beat wing away from the suet, and the bathers retreat. The rest of us in the branches are quiet, waiting for today’s banquet to appear. I observe, attentively, smacking my beak. 

She is so kind, our Gardener, so respectful. 

She amuses me when she whistles. I do not understand one word. But bless her for trying.