Soaring Symphony

© Katie Lyn Branson

Sweeping across the sky

A swirling gliding dance

Soaring symphony of music

Perfection uncoordinated

Yet perfect in its every move

Twirled to some unseen music

A hidden beat of frantic

Movement to tranquility

Floating free and untouched



I was laying on the lawn last night listening to Jennifer Lopez’s “On the Floor”, of all things, and the soaring music within the song fit perfectly with the tree swallows gliding across the sky.  But the beat and bounce of the song fit as well.  It was like watching this perfectly coordinated dance.  Magical and etherial.  The picture is one I took last night then rendered as a pastel in my photo program.


Signing off


Clothes Pins on a Wire

© Katie Lyn Branson



Clothes pins on a wire

Little jacketed swallows

In their union

Or confederate uniforms

Stately and evenly spaced

As if waiting for roll call

Until unforseen forces

Send them exploding

Up to soar and twist

Glide and floating

A free fall of delight



Signing off







Look to the Stars

Galaxy Andromeda

Image via Wikipedia

I’m an amateur astronomy buff.  I have this thing about going out and staring up at the night sky and it can mesmerize me.  Right now is the best time to be seeing some of the most wonderful things out there.

I have a statement that I like to tell myself and it’s something like this.  My favorite constellation is Orion. My favorite thing to look at is the Pleiades, my favorite place to look is right into the heart of Sagittarius where the Galactic center is, and my favorite galaxy is Andromeda…..  For me, looking at the stars is like taking a small step into the wonder that is God.  Try sitting outside some night and staring at those incredible, amazing stars and try to fathom the greatness that is God. 

It is impossible to not feel humbled in such a situation.  The heart of the galaxy, the Milky Way is my idea of heaven.  So bright, so perfect.  It’s like this warm, fuzzy place.  Can I explain it?  Not even close. 

And has anyone ever looked at the Andromeda galaxy?  Can there be anything more perfect than a super bright galaxy floating on a diamond scattered black velvetness?  I can stare at it for ages and still feel my heart pound in breathless wonderment.

I don’t get to be out stargazing that often.  Mostly due to me liking to be in bed at night, but those times I do get out, I am amazed.  Two years ago I went out into my back yard for about three hours at night.  I was up till almost three in the morning. I was on a hunt for things I could see with my binoculars.  It was one of those warm nights where everything feels amazing.  And the sky was the most amazing I had ever seen it.  I cannot begin to expound on how clear, how perfect, how wonderful it all was.

Do I sound like I’m raving?  IT’s because I am.  God’s creation is a wonder to me, and every time I look at the night sky, I see it.

When Iconsider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers,  The moon and the stars, which You have ordained; What is man that You take thought of him,
And the son of man that You care for him?

Psalm 8:3-4

Signing off


The Buggy Year

A common earwig with large cerci in the backgr...

Image via Wikipedia a.k.a. Shudder inducing

Every year is buggy.  Every year there is some bug that takes over and there is an over abundance of them. 

This is the year of earwigs.

Can I get an ‘ugh’, squeal, or groan?  Any shudder you want to add is fully appreciated.

Yes, this year there are earwigs every where.  Literally.  EVERY WHERE!  I am finding them in the shower, in my bath pouf when I go to soap up, in the utensil drawer in the microplane, oh, and there was one in my bed the other day.  It is gross.

Now, I did some research on them.  Wikipedia, I love you.  Apparently earwigs are not harbors of disease, and they are not a ‘gross’ insect, but honestly, there is something too disgusting about them to not be creeped out.  I can’t help it.  It all started when I was a little girl and my cousin introduced them as pincherbugs.  I was terribly afraid of them then.  I can’t say that I’m afraid now, but I can’t say that I’m not afraid of them either.  I have never been ‘pinched’ by them, but they do bite.  Usually along my midriff when I’m in the shrubs.

 And in the end, some times earwigs can be good in the orchards. It’s just in the garden that they are pests.  They don’t discriminate on what they eat.  They just decimate some things.  And they come out in droves.  It’s horrible.

File:Monarch Butterfly Pink Zinnia 1800px.jpg

Image via Wikipedia (pretty Monarch)

My question is, why is it always a bad bug that there is a year of nasty?  There is this joke that my family has about my grandparent’s cabin in the California mountains, about how every seven years you have a repeat bug.  For instance, the year of the black flies, well you will get them one year then not for another seven.  So you have the flies, the yellow jackets, the mosquitoes (which is kind of funny because there are mosquitoes every year. Picture the bad year. Not pretty)  Then there is the ladybug year.  I love those years.  How can ladybugs be bad?  They are cute, they are beneficial, they are ladies….. (kidding)

Why can’t you have the year of the monarch butterflies?  Or the year of the praying mantises?  That would be FUN.  No, it’s always the bad bugs.  Slugs, knats, mosquitoes, hornets, cutworms, miller moths…. Yucky bugs.

Well, this is the year of earwigs.  I’ll let you know when I stop being grossed out.

~Signing off


The Ultimate Personal Library

I don’t know if there is a band wagon for this, but I have just found some gorgeous photos of Neil Gaiman’s personal library from a couple blogs. Can I swoon?

"daaaaaaaaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyymmmmmmmmm" via A Minute For Minute

 That statement says it all.



More pictures can be seen here at Ron Brinkmann’s blog post:

Gaiman’s Bookshelf Details


Another great post regarding personal libraries is Case Study: The Personal Library (a pictorial)


Give me a man who owns a library like this and I will be in heaven.  Just so long as I get to add my books to the collection.

Signing off



Women and Tea

(Ramona Flowers from “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World”, stupid movie, but loved this clip)

Okay, this video proves that it isn’t just the girly girls and the British who like their tea.  I think it’s a woman thing.  I honestly do not know a woman around that doesn’t like tea.  We all love tea.  Oh sure, we may enjoy our coffee (yes I have a healthy addiction to coffee), but we bond over tea.

Why is that?

Honestly, I have no clue.  Maybe it’s something about the ritualistic dunking of the teabag, the stirring of the sugar and cream.  Maybe because usually you drink it from a pretty cup.  Though, from a good old-fashioned mug, it’s still good.  Why is it that it’s one of the main things offered to drink?

And really, yes, there are women who have that many teas.  I ought to know.  I am one of them.  I have, or in my case, we have, a cupboard, a whole drawer, shelves above the stairs, and part of the stairs, oh, and the laundry room where tea can be found.  I’ve tried just about every Celestial Seasonings tea there is, and if I could of the Stash ones, I’d be in heaven. 

I love tea.  I love black tea, green, white, pekoe, herbal, flavored, plain.  Tea is my friend.  Oh, and yes, there are that many teas and more, guys.  And trust me when I say a woman will probably have a healthy stash of them.

Now, just tell me, why is it a woman thing?

Signing off


The Miner Who Was Eaten By A Shark

But are you really ever going to be in this much danger?

Recently I read an article in the Discover magazine, (okay, scanned the picture captions), about the fears people have.  Mostly on how they fear the big things; shark attacks, airplane crashes, etc., but never mind the lung cancer, car crashes, heart attacks….  Apparently people are more afraid of the things that while big, rarely happen.  1 in 3,943,110 for a shark attack, too small for the Discover to even calculate on the chart they showed.  Yeah, not terribly common.  Heck, in 2007 (according to statistics Bill O’Reilly mentioned the other day) bee and wasp stings were the most deadly animal killers for the US.  There were 57 deaths.  No shark deaths.  Not one.  And yet, people are afraid of it.

So picture this.  You have this guy working in a mine in West Virginia or Pennsylvania.  Every day he goes deep into the mine and is hammering away.  And what is he more afraid of?  he’s not thinking about black lung that could kill him in ten years, or that the mine will cave in crushing him and his fellow miners.  Not some dynamite that might explode trapping him and his crew in the mine where they die a slow death of oxygen deprivation.  No, instead, every day the miner thinks about that one day there is going to be a crack in the wall of the mine when he takes his hammer or pick to it.  the crack will widen and suddenly water will start to spew out of the fissure.  The water will widen the crack until the wall crumbles and water will gush in.  the mine will fill with water.  but will the miner be afraid of drowning?  No.  No, what he will be most worried about is that that great white shark is going to come in with the water and eat him!

Those sharks are scary...

It doesn’t matter that the miner doesn’t live by the water and will probably never see the ocean, but he’s afraid of sharks.

Now, I’d love to take credit for this analogy/story, but I can’t.  I guess imagination runs in the family because this was my father’s idea.  Of course he also spit off about this same miner sitting at the bar with his glass of beer when all of a sudden this giant shark comes out of his glass and eats the miner before going back into the glass where you see this tiny shark swimming around……..

Yeah, imagination definitely runs in the family.

The point is that in some ways, the Discover article is a bit misleading because, really, are people that focused on the bizarre things that may or may not happen?  Car wrecks are much more likely to kill you than a shark attack.  My father says he thinks about the wrecks every time he drives.  Which is also why he is one of the most careful drivers I know.

Moral to the story?  Not really.  I mostly just loved the idea of the miner who’s afraid of dying by shark attack.

Signing off


The Only Twins That Matter


[via Quiet Superstitions]

I’m not a huge Harry Potter fan. Quiet you! I enjoy the books, and some of the films. However, out of all of everything, I think one of the main things that stands out are the Weasley Twins. You know who I’m talking about. Fred and George. They are incredible! I was horrified, saddened, disgusted, and a whole lot of other when Fred died. How could anyone kill of this entity? Because that is what they are. They are not separate guys, but one.

I could rant forever on the injustice J.K. Rowling did when she killed Fred, but I would rather not think about that.

So, for the Twins, played by James and Oliver Phelps, here’s to you.  You’ve made the stories incredible, the movies tolerable, and I think a lot of people will agree when I say that you are the best.

Signing off


A Sample of Something New

I’ve been plugging away at a story that I started a couple of years ago.  It’s mostly for my own enjoyment, but it is something I have two volunteer editors helping me hash out the finer points.  Part of the reason I’m posting it here is because of a bit of a challenge over on Hallie Chandler’s blog, titled I Want To See Your Hook.

This is a bit more adult in nature, but I’ve kept it clean.  This is just an excerpt, but please, enjoy……


She padded into the classroom, her black satin robe tight around her nude form. She glanced around the room and took in the students setting up and the professor shuffling papers on his desk. It was a normal class for the most part. Girls studiously set out their pencils, paper, and smudgers. The smaller group of guys eyed her with interest. She could always got those looks considering the type of modeling she was doing. Although some were actually there to advance their artistic studies, there were a few bold stares. Stares like those made her wonder why she modeled.

Suddenly her eyes were captured by an intense masculine gaze. Electric. She felt the jolt hit deep in her belly—the shockwaves rushed up her spine and she almost gasped out loud because the breathless feeling was so intense. The tingling sensation raised the hair along the nape of her neck, down her arms, and tightened her nipples. She ducked her head as she stepped up to the platform, before risking another glance. He was studying her, his gaze no longer on her face but contemplating the rest of her body, the only visible skin showing from mid calf down to bare feet. With his eyes averted from hers she studied him easily right back.

He was an older man, early-to-mid fifties with short cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His eyes were deep set, but expressive. His darker brows enhanced each facial expression. The man had a strong chin, a cultured mouth and a patrician nose, all signs of class. That, and the fact that his clothes were casually modest yet evidently very expensive, a loose fitting cream shirt and dark brown slacks which enhanced his slightly bronzed skin.

Money, class, stature were all written on his form and the way he moved. He didn’t seem in a hurry as he studied her. He took his time, like he was savoring a fine painting. What a nice thought that was.
She sighed in pleasure as his eyes returned to hers. He gave a quick guilty smile then turned back to his tablet of paper, fiddling with some pencils. Well that was new, she thought. Normally men made her nervous and skittish and not the other way around. Men looked at her boldly most of the time and not with politeness. This one knew how to treat a lady. That faint boyish face made him look as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. She almost giggled.

Unfortunately or fortunately, she was facing away from this class today. She knelt on the soft chaise with her back facing the room and then proceeded to loosen her robe as Professor Sharp called the class to order. The object of the lesson was to study the play of light and shadow across the human body.

She slid the robe off her shoulders and let it pool around her hips so that only a faint suggestion of her buttocks could be seen. She half turned so that just the slight curve of one breast was visible to the class and arched her neck slightly, settling her palms in her lap. For the next hour she needed to sit as still as possible.

Thankfully she’d pulled her coppery blond hair into a simple French twist. A few loose tendrils had escaped and brushed the back of her neck and her left ear, softening what could have been considered a cold statue. The hairs made her look real, soft, and completely female.

She imagined the man’s eyes roving over her pale skin as Professor Sharp discussed and directed the students’ motions with pencil. Would he stare intensely, his brows furrowing, making deep creases in his forehead? Perhaps his look would be blank as he thought of where to start first on her form, the curve of her shoulder or the long smooth line of her back. Wherever he started, she wished she could watch, wished she could stare out towards the class, eyes following the movement of his pencil sketching on the paper.

She loved the soothing voice of Sharp and as usual the hypnotic tones of his voice lulled her senses till her mind drifted off. She floated away and her body relaxed slightly and changed the appearance of formidable marble to soft, sensual woman.


Signing off