Old Man of the Cafe

Prompt response to Hemingway’s Iceberg from The Creative Writer’s Notebook.

 

Exposed iceberg:

In the café, Jerry studies the doctor’s report online.  He’s looking for hints of the number of years he has left.  Hoping to make it to seventy, he picks up the Wall Street Journal and tosses it into the garbage can. [written after the Water Line]

 

Water Line:

A man of sixty-plus years sits alone at the café table.  His neatly trimmed beard of mostly white hair partly covers his neck and black baseball hat shades his eyes from the sunlight. Wearing khaki shorts with no socks and black and white Converse, his legs are splayed around the table.  He swirls the cup of his half-filled iced coffee. Then takes a bite of his crumb cake with his right hand.  Wiping his fingers on his shorts, he begins taping on his tablet and glances at the newspaper.  Shrugging his black hoodie over his shoulders, he gets up and throws the paper in the garbage.  Folds down his computer tablet, carrying it under his left arm, and opens the door with his bent back.  A January wind blows the door open.

Journey to the Farmers' Market

Going to the Farmers’ Market could be a long walk or short drive.  Because of the six pins and metal plate in my right ankle, I prefer the short drive.  Heading to the market, my husband and I pass a strip mall, an elementary school, renovated apartments and the University of Arizona Village Farm.  I see a sign at the farm.  It says “Mushrooms Workshop This Afternoon.”  I smile, imagining bobbing mushroom caps, busy like Santa’s elves, in a workshop shed. 

It’s mid-morning in January and the market, across the street from the adobe church is bustling.  A variety of people and dogs parade around the canvas covered stalls.  At both ends of the market, stone fountains spout towers of water.  A few children dip their hands into the cool pools.  Their parents pull them back.

I purchase two half-pound bags of fresh pasta.  I buy a tan baseball cap for my husband.  It carries the brand name of the market:  FoodinRoot.  Together, we select three shiny red tomatoes and a two-palm sized head of lettuce, picked that morning from the university farm.  Damp roots still cling to the green globe.  We visit a favorite Greek food vendor and pay ten dollars for quinoa tabbouleh and eight stuffed grape leaves.  Tonight’s dinner is complete.  Our bag is full of items and we stroll to the nearby financial bank to replenish our wallets.

On the way home, traffic is light and we take Limberlost Road past one hundred sixty acres of the university’s animal research farm.  This autumn’s calves chew grass in one field.  Scattered horses stand in the shade of a dusty field.  A bicyclist on the road signals left.  Winter’s noon sun is soft and slanted.  Full of its light, the fields open against our desert’s blue skies.  We are almost home.

[Exercise for Pace (sentence length) from The Creative Writer’s Notebook/Hemingway Section.]

 

FoodinRoot Farmers' Market, St. Philip's Plaza, photo by anita fonte

 

 

from the headlines

Using a prompt from Austin Kleon's book, The Steal Like and Artist Journal, to use words from newspaper headlines, here is today's product (1/11/16)

Walls of kindness circle,
changing the world.
Canyons protect the weaker.
The strong continue life.
Mercy makes a difference
for pain is gaining fast.

 my artwork 12/15

New Year's Poem

Wrote a short poem today (12/2014) in response to a prompt to write about hope, entitled "Hoping Today" (for New Year's 2015) and it is also a good way to begin 2016.

I hope for health for me and thee.
I hope for birds singing in a mesquite tree.
I hope for love for family and friends.
I hope for faith that never ends.
A new year brings snow in the mountains.
Icicles form on the edge of cement fountains.
I bundle up to take a walk
Then stay inside to write and talk.
This is a pattern I hope to repeat
With singing heart and dancing feet.
I hope you too find a way to start
This sparkling new year with an open heart.