politics

JusJoJan26 Day 4-Arms

/ Liz H-H / Leave a comment

January 4 – “Arms”. Many Thanks to  Cheryl for today’s prompt, as we take a moment or two each day this month to reflect on words that come from the community. And thanks to Linda G Hill for getting us organized!

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I wake up in heavy darkness this morning to what sounds like airplanes flying low in the sky. Steady drone in multivoice, for what seems like a long time. Swimming upwards out of sleep, I remember the old munitions site a few miles away, and that this thought crosses the deeper pools of my consciousness whenever the U.S. is mired in things that they shouldn’t. Or shouldn’t be, in the way that we do. The old munitions plant, long dismantled, but still haunted, and undeveloped into something more hopeful, is a few miles and a quarter of a century away.

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Watcher Doings 20

/ Liz H-H / 15 Comments
juicy tangerine wedges

Join us for a weekly blog party in Six Sentence Stories, hosted by Denise and attended by some mighty fine, fun folk. Prompt word=SHED. Read, write and come back for more on SIX SENTENCE STORIES.   (Link goes active Wed night).

The night had come on suddenly, like thick wet wool dropped over a shivering body, and Montay wondered what this cottage and the lands surrounding it would be like in wintertime; Ferah and he had always loved the perennial summer of their homeland, the heady scent of decay and new growth, the feel of dirt and dappled air as they chased each other through field and forest as cats, took to the sky as birds of prey, sinewy scaled tails combing the river’s rush as they cut up against stream, so why would she choose a place like this to retreat?

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Frau Holle 2025

/ Liz H-H / 8 Comments
tall broom leaning against a flat white wall, flooring is polished brick.

© Ayr/Gray

It’s an inside job for sure.

I gaze out at the fat, fresh snow falling, fairy voices singing with bell-like giggles as winds gust and tumble them into one another. Not yet time for Spring cleaning. It’s only February. Yet an urgent inner tug tells me to create something to meet the pure snowfall half way.              Continue reading →

JusJoJan and 1-liner Wednesday: Ragnarok

/ Liz H-H / 2 Comments

One liner Wednesday: “I’ll try.”
I’LL TRY to keep my shit together as I watch the speedy unraveling of an increasingly shaky world, and ready myself to gaze down through the roots of Yggdrasil at the three Norns, muttering at their weaving, while Ratatoskir with his gleaming eyes, trills laughter through his sharp teeth and throws nuts at my head.                      Continue reading →

Just Stop

/ Liz H-H / 6 Comments

 

 

 

(Forgive my show of ill-temper)

Signed and certified
The orange skidmark
Slides down the back
Of US underpants
Floods our shoes
And stains the news
We make a mockery
Of our democracy

© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2025)

(Ok, this wasn’t exactly fun, but it had to be said. Because I’m sad, and we have to go on.) To join in the fun of Just Jot It January (reading or writing your own on the prompt), visit   https://lindaghill.com/2025/01/08/one-liner-wednesday-jusjojan25-the-8th-stop-following-me/#like-18645

White Wolf, Blue Eyes

/ Liz H-H / 23 Comments

Side shot of the head of a white wolf with blue eyes.

The party boat, a tall red cruiser, shudders in its own wake, loosely tethered to dock’s end by a thin rope dipping in and out of the slowly rolling waves; behind it, dark clouds gather with increasing speed and the winds pick up. 

“C’mon,” he hollered over the southern-fried blare and bass from the boat’s own speakers, adding “It’ll be fine and I’ll protect you like I always have!”    Continue reading →

Town Hall Meeting

/ Liz H-H / 25 Comments

Woman, early 50's, in a pillbox hat, intense eyes

She perched, edge and center, on the metal folding chair, ankles crossed and angled toes barely touching the floor, her SoftRose painted lips pursed, her eyebrows raised even higher above their normally penciled boundaries, a single vertical line deepening between those brows, but slightly favoring the left, while two small circles of color heated each cheek, as if they’d been purposefully applied with a sable brush.  Continue reading →