relationship

17:00

/ Liz H-H / 7 Comments

Picture of a park bench

(Click here to view : What the park bench sees everyday)

She supposed she really ought to be scattering bird seed, perhaps corn for the larger ones. So her grandson had often told her, in kind but stern words. “The mold on the bread could kill them!”

But her widow’s pension was meant for sustenance, not luxury, so she shared what she had. The birds didn’t seem to mind, judging by how they gathered about her feet on this park bench, every day at 5 pm. And they never left a crumb behind, so where was the harm? Continue reading →

All Are Welcome Here

/ Liz H-H / 11 Comments
Wife carrying Competition, jumping a hurdle

Image based on IBT(2014), with my apologies

A little flash fiction around a prompt of “Wife Carrying.” Because maybe that’s the true test of a strong partnership:

It’d never occurred to them that their participation might not be welcome. Celebrating the fortitude and stamina required to go the distance in marriage–what better way to do this than with a test of physical endurance?  Continue reading →

Rodeo Event #4: Bucky’s Baked Beans, A Love Story with Two Spoons

/ Liz H-H / 7 Comments

fork and spoon crossedCountdown from the Carrot Ranch Contest: Re-visioning your flash in 4 steps (for more, see the link below)

 Step One: 99 word flash, to include “beans”

Bucky’s Beans

It was definitely not what I was expecting. I thought we’d celebrate Bucky’s return from her Antarctic dogsled adventure with a lavish meal, and go shake our butts at a dance club. Maybe not that last one. Bucky’d only been home for two weeks.

What I saw was Bucky on the couch in sweats and wool socks, legs folded underneath her, spoon dipping into a can of baked beans.

I hid my dismay, but not well enough.

“When you’ve been living off a dogsled, a can of beans is a feast.”

I sighed, grabbing a spoon from the kitchen. Continue reading →

An Old Romance

/ Liz H-H / 11 Comments

pink rosebuds and reading glasses scattered over an open bookShe rinsed the last dish and set it in the drainer. Days had again grown short, this season and over the years. The leaves, crisp from a day’s rain and evening’s temps, were barely visible out the window. Her silhouette softened in its reflection; the living room light glowed orange behind her. Continue reading →