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2015 Hub Reading Challenge Check-In #5

15 Mar

I finished three books for the HUB Challenge this week. The first was a crime novel, Those Who Wish me Dead by Michael Koryta.

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 I don’t really read this genre, so, if not for the challenge, I would never have picked this one up. It is a fast-paced adventure about a boy, named Jace, who is a key witness to a murder. He is sent to hide in a wilderness skill camp for troubled boys, but the killers track him there. And, a wildfire is raging. This is total escapist literature and I liked it a lot more than I thought I would.

I also padded my list with two more graphic novels. I liked one, but not the other.

I really liked Ms. Marvel: No Normal  by G. Willow Wilson.

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Kamala Khan is an ordinary girl from Jersey City — until she’s suddenly empowered with extraordinary gifts. Holy smokes, a female muslim superhero! This was a really fun read.

Less fun and infinitely more creepy was Afterlife with Archie: Escape from Riverdale  by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa and Francesco Francavilla.

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This was a stretch for me because I don’t do creepy. Even the cover was too scary to look at. I whipped through it quickly trying not to look at the scary pictures. In a nutshell, Jughead’s dog dies. Sabrina the teenaged witch brings it back to life. All heck breaks loose. Not my cup of tea.

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Listening to the rain #SOL15

15 Mar

My dad always told us his favorite poem was Fog by Carl Sandburg.I’m not sure he liked it because of what it said or because it was a short one he could remember.

 

The fog comes
on little cat feet.
It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.
I spoke to my soon to be 84 year old mom on the phone yesterday and she told me it was foggy where they lived, and it hadn’t burned off as she had expected. I told her we were having fairly heavy rain and it seems will continue today and into tomorrow. Here is the forecast:
Screen Shot 2015-03-15 at 6.40.47 AM
It rained steadily all night and I had the window open because I like to listen to the sound of rain at night. It brings back a lot of memories. Good ones mostly. So, I thought I would try my hand at creating a Carl Sandburg-like poem about the rain.
The rain comes
on centipede feet.
It runs swiftly
over rooftop and eaves
flowing down drainpipes
and then moves on.
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