Manure in the Rain

I wake up and discover I’m on a two hour delay for work.  Yeah.  Because of the snow here I don’t have to report in until nine or nine-thirty if I am of a mind.  It’s like being back in grade school, only I don’t get a snow day if I don’t file my time.  The funny part is, it’s about three inches of snow total, which back home in Red State Indiana we call “Friday”, but has pretty much screwed up a lot of things here.  Such is it living in a broke-ass state.

The title of this post tells you exactly where I left my kiddies the day before:  standing before bags of manure:


(Excerpt from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

The Mórrígan student from Indonesia, Kalindi Kartodirdjo, noticed the writing on the bags and at the bottom of the pallets. “That’s . . .” Her voice climbed towards a shocked squeal. “That’s manure.”

Before Professor Semplen could answer it began to drizzle. He looked up at the sky for a moment, then turned back to the students as if it wasn’t a concern. “Yes, manure. I have it shipped in every year from Samarinda.” He turned and slapped his hand down on top of the nearest bag. “This is all for you.”

Collin—who was now in Bloeddewedd and had not spoken to either Annie or Kerry since arriving at the school—crossed his arms. “What do you mean it’s all for us?” He didn’t appear happy to be there, standing in the drizzle, looking at bags of manure. “What are we suppose to do with it?”

“Use it.” Holoč stepped between the pallets, pointing at them as he spoke. “Twenty-five kilo bags, twenty bags to a pallet. Five pallets each. That’s one hundred bags, twenty-five hundred kilos—” He looked up at the students. “Two and a half metric tons.

“This means each of you get three bags—seventy-five kilograms—of manure for uses during the school year. It is likely we may need more in the early spring, but for now this will do fine—”

Lisa had heard enough. “What are we suppose to do with this now?”

Holoč pointed towards the greenhouse. “Each of you has a storage bin in the greenhouse and another . . .” He pointed towards the building behind the students. “In the lower levels of the main building. Before the end of class today, you’ll move two of your bags to your bin in the greenhouse, and the other to your bin in the lower level. Should you finish before the end of class—”

Many of the students stopped listening after the professor’s statement about moving the bags, and several of the students—Lisa and Anna among them—appeared extremely angry. Lisa began venting. “Ahm not here to move crap!”

Holoč didn’t seem upset by her outburst. “Then why are you here?”


You’re a hard man, Holoč.  At least no one asked if it was dragon poop–yet.

There weren’t any distractions last night.  I did some reading and some research, and I wrote for about ninety minutes.  In that time I managed a little over fourteen hundred words, which is a good amount for that time.  It also felt good writing like that.

Tonight I’ll finish that scene.  Maybe I’ll start the next.  Now I have to figure out if I walk into work a little early and get there about eight-thirty, if I’ll get into the building.

You don’t have these problems if you moving manure. You just move it.

Dawn Patrol

There’s a reason I keep my alarm some distance from my bed:  it’s so I’ll get out of bed to shut it off.  If I didn’t, I’d be temped–like I was about twenty minutes ago–to stay in bed under the warm covers, which is where I really want to be today.

Strange dreams following me again.  I do mean strange ones, too.  Lots of running about and seeing unusual things, and at one point hiding from two girls in a trash bin.  Why?  Who the hell knows?  It’s a dream, and they almost never make sense.

More writing last night.  Another thousand words down over the course of a few hours, and it ended like this:


(Excerpt from The Foundation Chronicles, Book One: A For Advanced, copyright 2013, 2014, by Cassidy Frazee)

The followed the professor down a hallway that headed towards the greenhouse. They exited the building, entering a connecting passage. Rather than going into the greenhouse, they turned left and exited the passage.

The small courtyard was located to the east of the Life and Earth Sciences Building and north of the greenhouse. At the south end of the courtyard was a wide, slopping path leading to the now open entrance leading to the lower level under the classrooms. In the middle of the courtyard sat five pallets with large bags stacked upon them. Professor Semplen walked up to the pallets, then turned and addressed the students.

“Every year we being anew.” Holoč always spoke in even, measured tones, because while his English was good, his Czech accent sometimes proved troublesome for the students. “This class is as much about lectures as it is about leaning by doing. This year you will learn about plants, and about their biology, but you will also learn how to plant them, to nurture them, and what to harvest at the end of the cycle.

“To do this we require the basics: seed, soil, and nutrition. The seed and soil I have already acquired . . .” He stepped aside and motioned towards the pallets behind him. “The nutrients have arrived.”

The Mórrígan student from Indonesia, Kalindi Kartodirdjo, noticed the writing on the bags and at the bottom of the pallets. “That’s . . .” Her voice climbed towards a shocked squeal. “That’s manure.”


Yep!  Crap in a Bag.  Do you remember any of the students at Hogwarts dealing with this crap?  Ha!  Here, you’re slinging spells one day, and the next you’re deep in the shit–literally.  I’ll likely finish up this scene tonight.  Maybe tonight, probably tomorrow, I’ll start on the next scene, and that will finish Wednesday classes.  Just a couple of more days, then the Midnight Madness, then Saturday, and then . . .

That’s the end of this episode of the first book.  It doesn’t really seem like that far away, either, because there aren’t that many scenes–maybe a dozen or so.  And if I write twenty-five hundred words each–which I won’t–then . . .

Hum.  The end of this story isn’t as far off as I thought it was.

I would appear I’ve got thirty more writing days ahead of me.