The Mossy Old Shed

You don't get anything clean without getting something else dirty.

Cecil Baxter

The poem The Mossy, Weathered Shed, from the book Crows & Swallows is about exactly that. A mossy, weathered shed. It’s from them point of view of Mr. Fitzsimmons himself as he procrastinates tackling the growing problem of this shed and reflects on its current state. Standing in the door of the shed he looks out over the red and brown dappled yard.
    

The Most Wonderful time of the Day

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?”

― Ernest Hemingway

    Sweating, I pump out word, after word. I pound my keyboard with enough emotion to move a nation. As tears drip down my face I say to myself, “When will it end?”. Quickly sacking each word as I sit, my mind races and I hit submit. It’s over for now. My essay is in. Legs filled with lead, I walk up the stairs, i’m practically brain dead. Shuffling into my room, I fall onto my sweet, soft, warm mattress and i’m asleep before i’m  finished falling.

                Up on Windsor Mountain




                           "Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much."

                                                              – Helen Keller








        The early morning light drifts through the leaves. The distant birds chirp merrily. The great pines tower above the waves, which lap against the shore of the lake, desperately trying to climb up. The canoes bump gently against the dock, as the fish swim in lazy circles in the crisp, cool water. The wind blows softly and my eyes fly open in a murderous rage as my phone beeps violently next to my head, which was sleeping soundly only a second ago. I snatch my screeching device and slap at the screen till it stops. I lean over and tap my friend Liam, who glares at me as he rolls over. “We have to get up!” I hissed at him “The running group is gonna leave soon!” Growling at me he falls out of his bunk onto the dirty wooden floor. We slip into fresh clothes and make it outside just in time to join the group of groggy but excited teens starting towards the camp exit, ready to take on the day together.

Food for Thought

 If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world

-J. R. R Tolkien 

       One of the most beloved things my life, food has been a glorious constant at Fenn. The schools glorious dining halls have seen many chaotic scenes of hungry adolescents, all rushing to stake their claim on their share of daily grub. It’s a system often mirrored in life. Early bird gets the worm as the old adage goes.

My Canoeing Trip

“Adventure is worthwhile in itself.

-Amelia Earhart

      On the cold rocky beach, the dark sky lay out like a blanket dotted with shimmering stars. The sound of the calmly flowing river and the rustling of the trees filled the open air. The cold wind bit at my cheeks as I stood, calmly, on the shore and watched the stars shine like pinpricks, punched in the cold dark sky. Suddenly a hand came down on my shoulder. A familiar voice said “Dinner's almost ready”. I smiled and replied “Ok.” tomy father as I turned and started walking back to the campsite. As i walked back to our campsite I spotted My friends and fellow scouts Jonah, and Max. We were on the first night of a guided canoeing trip of the Allagash River in northern Maine with Jonah's grandfather, and my father. It had been a long first day and everybody hungrily staring at the pot where our guide Michael was boiling the pasta for our dinner. When the pasta was finally lifted off the fire and Michael scooped the steaming food into our eagerly awaiting bowls we tore in, barely speaking a word other than everyones compliments to the chef.