Chaos in the Clouds

I'm linking up with The Lightning and the Lightning Bug once again for this week's Flicker of Inspiration prompt #47: Beautiful to Me

"Our individual insights and perspectives determine how we see the world and what we consider to be beautiful. I think it's fair to say that everything is beautiful to someone. A manhole cover can be a thing of beauty to the man who designed it, if to no one else."

The clean, white clouds slowly swell with shades of gray. What was once a slight breeze now gains momentum as it reaches the treetops. The distant rumbles and flashes inch closer as I count the seconds between them. I stand out on my deck, neck craned, spinning in circles to wholly witness the evolution. Soon, gargantuan drops of fresh-scented rain are polka-dotting the landscape. I take as many pictures as I can before needing to step inside. I enjoy the rest of the beautiful show from behind the sliding glass door, screen open of course. 

I am a storm junkie.

There have been days where I have watched The Weather Channel for hours on end as if it were The Godfather saga. In awe of the massive number of severe storms sprawling across the map. Jealous, at times, of the cities that are in "the red" and awaiting their potentially destructive disturbance. While tornadoes have wiped entire cities off the map I cannot help but be completely enthralled by them. My very first viewing of The Wizard of Oz at four years old is likely to blame for my lifelong fascination with storms. There is just something so captivating about a sky alive with natural, unstoppable force. 

The beauty that I find in a storm is immeasurable. Almost indescribable. My focus is unwavering as I gaze at the changing scenery. The white clouds mature into a palette of purples and grays. They move in waves, almost tsunami-like. Walls of wonder passing from town to town. I take countless pictures second after second and each image is so different. I feel a sense of cheerlessness as they move on.

A clear, blue sky is lovely but one filled with chaos is just beautiful. 

A Paper Chatterbox

 I am linking up with The Lightning and the Lightning Bug for the

Flicker of Inspiration Prompt #46: The Way We Were

"Tell us about you. Write an old photograph in text form, where we can say,

"Oh! Gosh, it hardly looks like the person I know, and yet still so recognizable!" 

Tell us about the you that was and, in many ways, still is."

That's me. Little Sheri. Little Casual Sheri, circa 1980. Hands in the pockets of a favorite pair of jeans. Or maybe it was Mom's favorite pair of jeans for me. Hair playfully pulled back into what could be called horse-tails rather than pig or ponytails given the thickness of it. A big grin that was no doubt due to a special lunch of Ramen noodles and "red" Kool Aid followed by some Sesame Street on the television. It was the little things that made me happy. 

It still is. 

I am still very much this little girl. In my everyday jeans, with my notoriously thick hair and a playful spirit. Still finding it hard to take most things seriously. Still smiling when I have my favorite meal, though the menu has changed quite a bit. And still making you listen.

Little Sheri was a beloved and creative chatterbox. I say beloved in a semi-sarcastic tone. I am quite sure I annoyed more than a few souls with my endless tales including greats like, "Baby Beth Took the Chocolate Chip Cookie." I was always making up stories. My mind was a colorful dreamland of characters and scenarios. I was probably three or four years old in this picture, right around the time that I introduced my family to my imaginary friends, Noonie and Bernantha. Noonie lived behind the television and refused to put a coat on when he went out to get his mail from the mailbox. Bernantha had very long hair (probably due to my fascination with Crystal Gayle at the time) and that's all I remember about her. I didn't sit and have pretend tea with these characters - I was too busy creating a world for them to exist in. I loved my world. I loved rainbows and music and story time at the library. I lived without fear and I loved my home.

I remain a storyteller, though most of my material has changed. I'm no longer tugging at the hem of your shirt, bending your ear with tall tales about dolls until you ask me to kindly go take my nap. Instead, I pour my overflowing nonsense into my blog or facebook statuses or tweets. I may not be speaking about Noonie's afternoon stroll but most likely writing about some mundane trip to WalMart or why I intend to clothesline my neighbor's prick son. To keep my silly "Little Sheri" side fresh and satisfied I write children's books. Sure, they  haven't been published yet but it doesn't stop me from sending them out over and over again. I am a mental chatterbox to the core. Rhymes and sentences pop into my head and I just have to write them down until I know where they're supposed to go. And I always find a home for them. I only wish I could have written down the stories I harbored when I was three.

Thirty two years may have passed but I'm still Little Casual Sheri. Still a bit rough around the edges. Still a spitfire. Still a lover of rainbows and music and the home that I've now created for myself. A chatterbox on paper, making her presence known. Forever in blue jeans - whether the world likes it or not.

Short and Sweet

I'm linking up with The Lightning and the Lightning Bug this week for their

Flicker of Inspiration prompt #45: Short and Sweet

Please feel free to join and link up your own post!

I've chosen to write three haiku for this prompt...

Sweet, shameless Sara

How your words poison your mouth

True tales are too short

Short are your fingers

fumbling the black and white

The sound remains sweet

Sweet eyes by the moon

your lashes play their part well

Our time is so short