Archive for August, 2014


Labor Day 2014
There is transition in the air. The nights are coming sooner. I have found leaves with a faint touch of color to them on my driveway. A few leaves have gently drifted down to rest like solemn boats upon the water in the birdbath. Every store has a sale on markers, crayons, pencils, and glue. School starts this week and life will change.

Late nights will become early mornings. Backpacks will be organized and lunches packed and another grandchild will go off to school. Like leaves falling from trees this is a time of letting go. Many days I feel my age and have a strong sense of the passing of time. How fast it has all gone by.

My Mom, I prayed for a wonderful summer for her. She was an outdoor girl with blond braids on a farm with a bucket in each hand, a young nursing student, a bride, a mother, a grandmother and a great grandmother to five. At 89 she is beginning to fade. My hope is that she will get to revel in the colors of autumn and the wonderful days of Indian summer and the sun on her face.



Closets!!!!! Do you ever leave your closet door open a crack? Does it seem to open or close just a little bit if you stare at it???

It is time to write your own story or poem. Or Draw your own version of where those odd critters like to hide… and are they going in or coming out???

Bwahahahaha!!!!! 🙂


Here is a close-up of my sweet black squirrel.

Cover - Glyph: The Journal of Fantasy and Legend, Issue 11, 2003

Cover – Glyph: The Journal of Fantasy and Legend, Issue 11, 2003

There are no mistakes in art. Be passionate about who you are, be passionate about what you love to do, and make it happen.

This is a recording of an excerpt from a blog I wrote on August 27, 2012. Background music is Don’t Turn Back by Silent Partner from the Youtube Audio Library.

Please feel free to share this.



death takes a vacationDeath creates his own Personal Watercraft.
Borell 2014

catfishToday use my illustration to write your won story or poem. Feel free to draw the next pictures that will go with this one. You may also paint it, add things to it, change it any way you want.  🙂



The fawns are growing up.  I will be moving the food to the back of the yard so that they become less accustomed to visiting houses for food. Enjoy your weekend.

Here is the video I posted on July 29, 2014 so you can see how much they have grown.  🙂



Water for Mr. Gray – A Twabble
By Marcia A. Borell

Ears alert my whiskers just above the water. I love the coolness of the leafy shade. One more sip then down to the feeders.


Eye of the Beholder
By Marcia Borell

I walk through the alien world recorder in hand. I am amazed at what I see. I have always loved plants and see them as living entities with their own energy and vibration. These plants are ancient with an eye that looks at me, studies me, and appears to be sentient.

I put out my hand to touch the closest one but it recoils folding its feathery petals inward protecting its eye. Inside my head I begin to hear a hum as once again it opens. Eye to eye I begin to understand its world. Its name is Lithyl. I am standing on a symbiotic world. All entities on this planet are alive including the rocks, water, and air.

I see visions of this world, the rise and fall of water, the splitting of rocks and growth of mountains, and the beginning of life.

Suddenly, I feel dizzy, my body begins to quiver, and my legs feel leaden. The peaceful hum has now become an erratic painful screech.

“Leave, leave, take nothing!” Lithyl’s words echo in my head as she begins to twitch and push me away.

Eyes blinking I begin to move my frozen feet. The further away I get from the field the more control I have over my body. Vines are beginning to weave their way around my ship. Our time is limited.

One by one I locate and rouse my crew until I have all but one. Opal is missing. The day is ending and we have just minutes to dump all of our samples and prepare to send out one final scout ship to look for her. She has not answered our call.

I can feel a tug on my uniform as my co-pilot raises his hand and points into the rising fog. It is Opal, a very altered Opal. Vines circle her body blending into her skin. Her eyes are no longer warm and dancing but enlarged without any whites. Her hair twists and flows away from her head more like flower petals than hair. She opens her arms in welcome.

“Stay and join this world,” she whispers. “I am living in peace.”

There is a shuffling of feet and some agitation in my crew. I study them looking for any physical changes. Some seem repelled by her appearance two others seem to fall under her spell. I have no guide, no rules to govern this event. Does this fall under contagion, insubordination, or the beginning of a new existence for us all? I remember how I felt as I fell under or into the spell of this planet.

“Opal, we must leave and send our report. Will you be alright here? Do you have any messages for anyone at home?”

Opal shook her head and turned away. I could feel Tomas run past me. He followed Opal into the woods.

“Load up, initiate decontamination when we clear the atmosphere.” I commanded.

I thought, Eve and Adam. . .Yes, I’ll classify this planet as restricted.