Eva Pasco's Blog - Posts Tagged "doldrums"
A Holly Jolly!
Have a holly, jolly Christmas
And in case you didn't hear
Oh by golly have a holly jolly Christmas
This year
(Lyrics from “A Holly Jolly Christmas” written by Johnny Marks in 1962)
Is the sugar-spun notion of a “holly jolly” Christmas unrealistic?
Before his redemption, Ebenezer Scrooge thought so: “If I could work my will, every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart!”
An Indie author who aspires to the assertion, “art imitates life”—I’m inclined to agree.
Although Christmas is an integral part of my Contemporary, 'An Enlightening Quiche,' realism jingles all the way from the perspective of my protagonist, Augusta Bergeron:
A vision of myself as a ghoul from Christmases Yet to Come appeared in the guise of a long-in-the-tooth trollop flicking fried-dyed hair and wearing age-inappropriate, skintight attire tautly stretched over my butt of a joke. A comparable image satirized every night by Cohen at closing time inside the chamber of Chuggers put the fear of God in me.
‘Tis the season to indulge in a reprieve from the doldrums and humdrum. Against my better judgement, I indulge a Hallmark movie from time to time, in willing suspension of disbelief.
Eva’s Byte #550 – The Moors
‘Tis the season for ushering in the doldrums.
By turning the clocks back one hour, the early descending darkness, in conjunction with a persistent string of gloomy days and bouts of gusty winds severing most of the leaves from deciduous trees, have brought on a seasonal bleakness.
A writer in a literary frame of mind, I’m transported to the moors, the unforgiving landscape ingrained in Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, a novel dear to my heart.
Purportedly, Brontë drew inspiration from the actual moors surrounding her family’s home in the West Yorkshire village of Haworth.
Envisioning Brontë’s moors which exemplify wild abandon and isolation, I truly relish New England’s dark, stark days for battening down the hatches and basking in the warmth of home.
Drafting my Contemporary work in progress, I’m wending my way toward the end of chapter 24 (1670 words thus far).
*May each of us adapt to nature’s seasonal nuances by creating our own comfort zone.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
By turning the clocks back one hour, the early descending darkness, in conjunction with a persistent string of gloomy days and bouts of gusty winds severing most of the leaves from deciduous trees, have brought on a seasonal bleakness.
A writer in a literary frame of mind, I’m transported to the moors, the unforgiving landscape ingrained in Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, a novel dear to my heart.
Purportedly, Brontë drew inspiration from the actual moors surrounding her family’s home in the West Yorkshire village of Haworth.
Envisioning Brontë’s moors which exemplify wild abandon and isolation, I truly relish New England’s dark, stark days for battening down the hatches and basking in the warmth of home.
Drafting my Contemporary work in progress, I’m wending my way toward the end of chapter 24 (1670 words thus far).
*May each of us adapt to nature’s seasonal nuances by creating our own comfort zone.
My sincere appreciation to you for reading this far.
