wp-plugin-bluehost domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home4/susangib/public_html/blog3/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6114FEATHERS AND RAINCOATS <\/strong> My task for the week was to find a pink feather<\/a>.<\/p>\n My quests start on a Sunday and end at midnight on Friday. Saturday I rest, like the Lord. Or no, that was his Father, I guess, and it was Sunday He rested but I\u2019m really not walking the walk, if you know what I mean.<\/p>\n It was raining, I remember that. A pouring, beating-bullets-into-the-sidewalk kind of rain that didn\u2019t need thunder for audio effect. I wore a green plastic raincoat that still had the folds from the box my mother had gifted it in. It came with a matching rainhat I didn\u2019t remember seeing. I would have hated it even more. I stuffed the hat in the coat pocket, unable to separate the set without guilt. Like slicing the weak twin<\/a> off at the heartline. I imagined the hat would crinkle and die if I left it behind.<\/p>\n No fair going to a store and just buying a feather; that was part of the deal. I went to the park. Birds, I figured. Feathers should really be everywhere in a park where birds are so there<\/em>.<\/p>\n I walked for three hours. The rain never let up and the wind kicked in. I got four compliments on my rain gear–including the hat since I had forgotten to take an umbrella.<\/p>\n Monday through Thursday were dry, both in the weather and my search for the pink feather, which by now I had made up my mind could be anything from light mauvey rose to a deep-gutted coral. I went to the library looking up birds and wouldn\u2019t you know, there were few in this part of the country that held any hope of possessing the feather I needed. The throat of a hummingbird, the teeny chest patch of a rosy grosbeak, housefinches, and of course, the cardinals were much much too bold red. So I watched for birds, followed their flight, hoping for a single feather to work its way loose, fluttering to my feet in a moment of destiny for which once in my life I\u2019d be ready.<\/p>\n By Friday morning I was really quite frantic and had to come up with a new strategy. I walked the downtown sidewalks, so tempted by storefronts that displayed clothing and earrings and trinkets that held promise but I didn\u2019t sway. My honesty impressed and depressed me.<\/p>\n Then it was there just in front of me, as if there really are answered prayers. A little girl, a pink jersey, purple shorts and a pink pocketbook with–yes, a swirl of pink feathers! And time was ticking down. My heartbeat was close to arrhythmia. My breaths were near panting. It took some maneuvering, wheedling, and yes a quick swipe and a run. I held it aloft as I sprinted toward home, the wailing fading away in my ear.<\/p>\n This week the prize is a book by Voltaire. And bookstores and libraries, of course, are strictly off limits.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" FEATHERS AND RAINCOATS Word Count: 499 My task for the week was to find a pink feather. My quests start on a Sunday and end at midnight on Friday. Saturday I rest, like the Lord. Or no, that was … Continue reading
\nWord Count: 499<\/p>\n