What are Ozlandish Writings?

From July 2010 to December 2014 we ran OZLAND PICTURE STORIES as described below. Sadly though the number of writers reduced over the years and we decided to call it a day. We leave these as a record of the good times we had.

Are "You" ready to challenge your writing skills? Then participate in our OZLAND Picture Stories writing series at The Ozland Art Gallery.

Each month a new picture will be picked, from our OZLAND Artist of the Month collection, with different themes. Your goal is to write a 500-1000 word... poem... essay... or story about the picture picked. This is a chance for you to challenge your writing skills each month. Story can be written in ANY genre... sci fi... romance... ghost... fantasy... fiction... non-fiction... biography... mystery... historical... whatever your writing genre... feel free to experiment. Send your writing inworld to Sven Pertelson as a notecard to have it included on the web site. We meet at the The Ozland Art Gallery each Wednesday at Noon and 6pm SLT to read the latest submissions on voice. More Information

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Sabbatical – part 3 - Winter – Lillian Morpork

Laura sat watching the scenery going by, noticing the signs of autumn; fields of golden wheat, yellow canola blossoms and tall stalks of corn glowing in the sunshine. There were apple tree laden with reddening fruit, pears turning yellow, and along the fence lines, goldenrod and cornflowers, reminding her of the children’s story about why you always see them together.

She was so engrossed that when the conductor came by calling out “next stop Mirror Lake”, she was startled. The train was slowing, so she scrambled to gather her bags, and was ready when it stopped at the station. She had a friend in Mirror Lake and she was taking this opportunity to visit him. She hadn’t seen him in two years, and they had been friends since university days.

Gordon Matthews taught physics at the University of Manska, and had been at a gathering of physicists and astronomers in Port Welborne then, and they had enjoyed what time he had free then. As she was about to step down, she heard her name called, and looked around. There he was on the platform, waving and shouting. She waved, called “Hi, Gord,” and stepped down.

Soon they had gathered her luggage and were on their way to his car, exchanging greetings and laughing. He had lifted her large roll-along suitcase and was surprised at its weight. “What have you got in here, goldbricks?” he asked, as he pretended the weight was almost too much for him. “No, something more precious – books!” she laughed. “Books for my courses that I hope will liven things up. Also four on the history of Jewish settlement here, written by a Rabbi Goldberg whom met him on the train, and when I got to Bain City, he gave me a tour of the Synagogue library. Sadly, he died of heart failure while I was there. He was a wonderful man.” She sighed. Soon she was settled in his apartment and they were eating dinner, and catching up.

For the next several days they toured libraries and museums, went to an Oktoberfest celebration and spent two days sampling beer and food, and enjoying a break from academics. When that was over, they decided to use to use her last two days on the lake.

When they first got to the lake, it lived up to its name, reflecting the sky and clouds, the birds, and the trees surrounding it. But by the time they had boarded his sailboat, a breeze had risen, and there were waves to ripple the reflections. They spent two days sailing, or at anchor, just resting, fishing and talking. Gord had received and offer from the university at Port Welborne, and he had decided to make the move.

“Oh, Gord, how wonderful! We will be at the same university, and be able to see each other all the time.” Laura was really excited at the thought. “Yes,” he said. “That was part of what decided me. Of course the higher salary had a little to do with it.” He grinned. “Oh, silly,” she pushed his shoulder, “and I thought it was all on my account!” They both laughed.

The holiday was over, her sabbatical close to ending, and Laura was on the train, on the last leg of her journey. She relaxed in her seat and watched the season change. I what seemed no time at all, the trees were barn and snow gave things a light coat of white.

At last, she was home again shivering in the cold and getting her winter coat and boots form the locker. Once she was dressed for the weather, she took a cab to the garage to pick up her much improved car, and on the way out of the city. As she drove, she saw sheep nibbling at weeds sticking up out of the snow. “Lucky animals,” she thought, “with their ready-made woolly coats. Still, they will soon be locked in their cote, warm and safe for the winter; while I will be driving into town every day, to try to teach unwilling students history. Oh, well, it is my choice. And now I will have Gord around to make it more fun.”

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