The Literary Corner: Renegade Writers Guild
Published 3:23 pm Tuesday, January 23, 2018
“2002 A Dry Spell”
By Kevin F. Wishon
Looking out of my window at the recent snow, I couldn’t help but think about another year that started with a snowstorm. In 2002, western Piedmont received snow just days into the new year; it took nearly a week for it to melt away entirely. The year started out without any indication of the drought to come, but by August, it was a different story.
At the time, I would walk Ratledge Road for exercise and occasionally extend my range by turning and walking the short distance down Mr. Henry Road to where it crosses the South Yadkin River. Here at the county line, I would take a break and stretch my legs on the bridge railing when no cars were passing. On one of these occasions in 2002, I was stunned to see how shallow the waters of the South Yadkin had become. Looking at the slow-moving waters, I determined that the water level was so low, I could have waded across it without getting my chest wet. Shortly after, I began to hear of wells drying up, and cities having difficulties with their water supplies.
Relief did come in late August of that year but not before the drought and heat ruined my garden. I had planted six tomato plants that year and only received four ripe tomatoes; that was how dry it was. However, life is not without its humor. A volunteer tomato plant sprouted in my flower garden in August. After watering and fertilizing the plant, it would go on to produce more than a dozen ripe tomatoes before frost.
Now, I’m not predicting 2018 to be a dry year; I hope it’s a year of balanced weather. However, when I see an abundance of wet weather, I can’t help but consider the possibility that the opposite is never too far away.
“Stuck in Kansas”
By Marie Craig
There we were in Kansas — June 1966
Driving in a VW bug with camping gear crammed everywhere.
Not another car in sight
Bored, bored, bored.
Bill decreed that something was wrong with the car
What to do in the middle of nowhere with no help, no stations, no repairmen.
The car had lost power, and we were dragging along
Making very little progress on our 8,000 mile/4 week camping trip.
Nothing to do but pull over to the side of the road
The buzzards will eat us, I thought.
It was so flat that it was not necessary to pull up the handbrake
He got out and approached the engine in the back of the VW.
He had to jump out of the way because the car was approaching him
He jumped back in the car laughing.
The wind was blowing so hard that we could not easily go forward
But there was no tree or leaf to show us the wind.
By Gaye Hoots
We all are alike.
We breathe the same air.
We inherited this earth,
With instructions to share.
When one is injured,
We all bleed red.
If we choose to cast stones,
We’d best cover our heads.
We all are connected.
We are part of a whole.
When we choose to diminish,
We damage our souls.
We have the power to build,
The power to tear down,
The power to nourish,
Or destroy a whole town.
All the choices made,
Have left many without.
Was that God’s intent?
I, for one, have my doubts.