I’m stirring up mayhem tonight, and I’ll probably kick myself for it later. My garden photographs are waiting to be sorted, and my short story still needs an ending, but I REALLY wanted to work on this portrait—so here I am—finishing up in the wee hours of the night.

Actually, the “mayhem” I’ve added is supposed to push the portrait toward the humorous side, sort of like a comic book, but I think it ended up looking more serious than fun. Anyway, there’s a story in here somewhere. I had to send a photo to the college for our virtual graduation, so I ended up with a self-portrait to play with. I don’t know… I thought it was about time I sucked it up and did a portrait of my own—for me.

Life is simply a mix of mayhem and magnolias, so embrace this gentle riot and gather flowers along the way.

kat savage
Art, Portraits

Midnight Mayhem

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Haiku, Photography

A Pause


Beautiful pauses,

Cloaked in fragrant petals bloom,

Life is not a race.


Happy Hump-day! I’ve taken a few pauses lately, to photograph some of the wonderful things in our backyard. This little butterfly (or moth?) caught my eye recently. It didn’t move much, so I’m assuming it was enjoying its own little time-out, soaking in some sun and nature’s beauty.

That’s about all for now. I’ve got a little time on my hands before the three day weekend here (but who’s counting anymore), and I’m looking forward to catching up and sharing some cool garden shots.

Peace & Love!

Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: Cloak & Race

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Art, Lifestyle Change, Photography

Recalibrating

Would you believe that tomorrow marks the beginning of WEEK TWELVE of my New Lifestyle, New Me project? Wow! It feels as though I’ve lost part of my life somehow—like my wall calendar has this huge red “X” scratched across the month of April or something. And half of May too!

Not to worry. As of today, there are still 532 days for me to hit my first “weight loss” goal. So… I’m in the process of recalibrating. All of this “stay at home” time has given me an opportunity to think, and to get to know myself a little better. I’ve noticed that I still have this default mode that makes me want to emulate other people. I’m not talking about the desire to be fit, there is nothing wrong with that—what I’m talking about are the numerous methods one can use in order to “get” fit.

When you think of fitness, what comes to your mind? Running? Aerobics? Joining a gym? Actually, I do have a gym membership that’s on hold due to COVID, but that’s another story. What I’m trying to say is that most of these ideas are default answers. They’re the things that automatically come to mind when thinking about fitness (or just being “active”), but they’re not necessarily things that I enjoy doing. When I set this change in motion, I wanted my new lifestyle to be different, to be fun, and—last but not least—to be adventurous.

I’ve been reading a book about prayer (thank you Collette) and something the author said really stuck with me. A lot of people put off praying because they think that they need to have everything in order before they pray. But the truth of the matter is… it is “through” our prayers that we begin transformation, and start getting things in order. It’s like putting the cart before the horse. It’s not a huge surprise either. I know people who to do house “clean-ups” before the housekeeper comes to clean! That’s actually the perfect analogy.

I mentioned a while back that once I weighed a little less, and was more limber, I wanted to sign up for some dance lessons. After reading that little tidbit on prayer, I realized what I had actually said in my statement… I wanted to get in shape, before getting in shape! What a bunch of phooey.

We’re in the beginning phase of “re-entry” here, so things won’t be happening right away, but I’m feeling good. Mid-June looks like a good time to start my own new phase—a new adventure—giving me 30 days to do my research. The goal is to start with a simple stretch class. I LOVE to stretch!

Anyway, the point I’m trying to make here is that it’s time to “DO” the things I love—NOT to plan and prepare, and “get myself in order” so that one day I can do what I love. Life is too short for that.

It’s time to dance!


Thank you for reading… I hope you’re all doing what you love!!
—Janet

The featured image is something that I chose because it makes me feel calm. A beautiful rose, whose petals are slowly unfolding to form a wonderful pattern… like a beautiful dance.

Word of the Day Challenge: Dancing

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Country songs, red solo cup—

Metaphors for simpler things.

Faded Glory, holding tight—

To the memories that they bring.


I wanted to try something creative tonight. I’ve had a couple of long days and it’s nice to take a pause, and stop (over) thinking. I took this photograph at a country music festival some time ago, using a cheap point and click, and I really like the frame. I’m always drawn to my poor quality images—it’s so fun to transform them!

I didn’t notice the red solo cup up there on the stage until I started playing around with the black and white effects, and I thought it was kind of cool; my funny little muse.

Anyway, that’s about all for now. I hope you’re all safe, healthy, and doing well…
Peace & Love!

Art, writing

Red Solo Cup

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late night fiction, writing

Late Night Fiction #7

Franky with a “Y”

For anyone just joining, this is an ongoing short story that I’m having some fun with.

Previous scenes can be found HERE, if you’d like to read them. This scene won’t make much sense if you don’t, but you could certainly give it a whirl.

I hope you enjoy!

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

SCENE SIX

Noah’s ears buzzed as an unfamiliar flying insect used his nose as a landing pad. His feet shifted beneath him as he waved his hands frantically to shoo it away, and Noah began to lose his balance. Crouched under a huge pine, not far from the cabin, he panicked. After several close encounters he had learned to remain silent and unseen. If he made any noise, his location would be compromised. 

He grabbed hold of a large limb above his head, to keep himself steady, and it snapped. Noah tumbled backward, his arms still hugging the branch, and the two rolled down the slope in unison. When he came to a stop, Noah picked himself up and allowed his eyes to scan the area quickly— locating the cabin and zeroing in. Franky was standing at the balcony’s edge, looking out in his direction, and he was afraid that she had heard him. She had instructed him to stay out of sight, and he had broken the rule.

He maneuvered himself behind the trees, through an area he was now well acquainted with, and made his way to a small base camp he had set up. Two large boulders rested on each other to form a chair, and a flat piece of bedrock served as a table. Noah sat to catch his breath, leaning his head back to rest. He could feel his heart thumping as he stared up at his mock roof— Franky’s long jacket—quivering in the breeze. She had given it to him for protection, when he left her at the cabin steps, and it was now strung between two branches, above the sitting area, blocking out the sun’s harsh rays.

One of the ties suddenly broke loose as a large gust sailed through, exposing a large bulge inside of the fabric. Noah rose to investigate. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a small bound journal. Running his fingers across the worn cover, he admired the texture of the leather, and then he fanned through the book. The pages were filled with notes written by Franky, and—after doing a quick repair of the roof—Noah sat down to read. 

SCENE SEVEN

The sun was beginning to sink and the air was piercing cold. Franky and Asher had been hiking all day, making their way to where she had told Noah to wait. Asher begged her to stop and rest, but she refused. She was sure they were almost there. The twilight sky was quickly turning to dusk, and it would soon be too dark to continue.  

An icy flurry rushed through, nearly tossing them off of the trail, and the trees began howling in the wind. Noah stopped dead in his tracks, as he recognized this familiar sound. It was the same ominous roar he had heard nights before—up near the waterfall—before Franky had arrived. He could hear it more clearly now though, and it wasn’t a roar at all; it was someone sobbing. The cries were coming from just above, echoing down—and reverberating deep into the canyon below them. 


To Be Continued


I know it’s not late (not here anyway), but I had a few minutes to finish another segment. We’re almost there! It’s possible we’ll reach the end in just a few more scenes (I hope). I also wanted to pop in and share that life is really, really good and I’m LOVING my new classes. There’s been some other things going on too, so it’s been hard to sit down and post—but it looks like I’ll have some time in the next few days.

We heard that Los Angeles officials are wanting us to spend another few months “staying at home,” but the natives are extremely restless, and I don’t see that happening at all. We shall see. Is anyone else out there experiencing that kind of friction? Just curious. I hope you’re all safe and healthy.

Anyway, thanks for reading. I hope you’re enjoying the story so far! Sorry to leave things hanging in the middle of scene seven… but I’ll finish it up very soon.

Peace & Love!!

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