Writing Makes Me Happy

Some of us have been blogged about the downside of writing, but I'm choosing not to go that route. I admit there are many downers, but I prefer to think positively. I love writing and slipping away into one romantic story after another. I've been writing for many, many years and most of that time I wove together stories just to please me. I still occasionally write little stories simply because I want to try something different. Or I think about some storyline that is just fun to play with. I like to indulge my fantasies.

One of my most enjoyable ongoing storylines involves a cow who has every bit as much imagination as I do, Blossom. So I'm going to share one of my early quickie stories about Blossom, a story that made me happy to write it.


Blossom wasn’t in the mood to trail after Elsie today as she led the herd of blind followers out to the same old field, for the same dull day they always spent. It didn’t matter how many times Elsie turned her big Jersey head to glare back at her, Blossom wasn’t going.

Music drifted from around the side of the dairy barn and she completely put Elsie and the others from her mind. She loved music. It gave her dancing hooves. It made her daydream about other times, other places, being more than just Blossom, the token Guernsey on the farm.

Now that she had some time to herself, she felt inspired to indulge her fantasies. To heck with old sourpuss Elsie. Always telling Blossom to learn to accept she was just a cow. Plain and simple. A cow whose only role in life was to produce milk for their owner. Well, Elsie might be content to spend her days thinking only of what batch of grass to chomp on next, of how full her udder would get in order to please Farmer Sam, but Blossom wanted much more out of life.

The spirit of adventure once more spreading through her, she dropped the hay she’d started munching on and light-hoofed her way out of the barn. She’d had her fill anyway. She’d only been eating out of boredom and habit. Besides, she’d had a little trouble squeezing through the hole in the fence on her last adventure. Losing a pound or two might be a good idea.

As she rounded the corner, she spotted Farmer Sam’s wife hanging laundry on the clothesline beside the main house. The music seemed to be louder now. It grew even louder the closer Blossom got to the side of the corral. She had a notion it came from the black box on the ground near the clothesbasket. The beat was good. Lively. Her tail began swishing back and forth in rhythm with the sound. Her back end swayed. Definitely a tune you couldn’t resist letting your whole body get into. Perfect. She couldn’t think of any other way to describe it.

The wind picked up, which Blossom didn’t mind at all. It kept those pesky flies from bothering her so much. But it also whipped something the woman had been trying to pin to the line away from her. The garment fluttered to the ground and she quickly bent down to pick it up. As she bent over, the woman’s low-cut top struggled to contain the abundant breasts she was blessed with. They looked ready to burst.

Blossom felt herself blushing. She didn’t particularly like it when her udder was so bloated with milk she was near to bursting and Farmer Sam saw her that way. Of course, her body was supposed to get that way. Still, she found it embarrassing at times, and she wondered if Farmer Sam’s wife ever felt that way when someone stared at her breasts.

She shook her head, shaking away the strange thought. Then she caught sight of the red dress at the end of the clothesline. Red, It was Blossom’s favorite color. Immediately she envisioned herself wearing a fine red ballgown, walking on her hind legs beside Ferdinand, that handsome stud of a Charlmaine bull from the neighboring farm. They were going to a barn dance. They’d spend the evening whirling and twirling around the sawdust covered barn floor. She’d bat her long lashes at him. He’d give her that saucy grin of his. And Elsie would be shooting daggers with her eyes at Blossom the whole night, because she had once considered Ferdinand her bullfriend. Not that Blossom could remember Ferdinand ever giving Elsie even more than a bored glance.

“Blossom,” Farmer Sam’s deep voice came from behind her. “Decided not to go out to the field today, I see.” He chuckled. “Well, I reckon that’s not a problem.”

He stepped beside her and gently patted the side of her neck. She was the only cow on the farm he talked to, touched more than to just get milk. She felt special. To show her appreciation, she winked at him as best she could.

He grinned. “You’re a flirt, aren’t you, sweetheart. It’s a dang good thing there’s a solid fence between our place and the Stanton’s. ‘Else I’ve a feeling their old bull would be paying you regular visits. Hot heifer that you are.”

Blossom beamed. Hot heifer. Wouldn’t Elsie just die of jealousy and annoyance if she heard that comment! Well, maybe when the herd wandered back tonight, she just might see to enlightening Elsie with that little tidbit.

Farmer Sam gave her one last pat and walked away saying, “At least you didn’t manage to get into the wine again.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Funniest thing I’ve ever seen. A drunk cow.”

She didn’t care that he was laughing at her for her last misadventure. No, she was still preening about his notion that Ferdinand would find her attractive, hot even. Oh, if only that were true.


Penny Rader said...

Thanks for sharing another Blossom story, Starla! Loved her flirty with Farmer Sam. I imagine she'd be quite lovely in a red ballgown.

Starla Kaye said...

Thanks for your comment on the story. Really my point was that a fiction writer has this special gift for pulling words together into something others can enjoy reading. Sometimes we work so hard at creating at saleable piece that it all becomes such a chore. The magic of creation we felt when we first began writing disappears. Sometimes you need to take a break from your more serious writing to do just that, let your imagination run wild and have fun. That's what these Blossom stories have become for me.

Joan Vincent said...

Enjoyed the story, Starla. You do pull words together very well.

Your point about writing for our own pleasure is also excellent and something we should all do more often.

Nina Sipes said...

Now that's a good story! And a hearty AMEN on the joy of writing!