We Have a Ghost

Last month, I started writing posts from prompts in the Writing Down the Bones Card Deck by Natalie Goldberg, shared with me by my friend Barb Edler of Iowa. I’m continuing this month so that I can experience the entire deck of prompts. Goldberg’s book was among those recommended at the top of my reading list by the chair of my doctoral committee a decade ago, and the messages about writing remain timeless.

Today’s topic: How are you invisible?

I’m not invisible, but our ghost is the closest thing to invisible around here, even though the presence is translucent. It’s an orb.

We’ve done a lot of unearthing of things around here lately. First, all the trees came down and I wonder whether some poor Civil War soldier is still looking for the missing button on his coat. Maybe he thinks it is in our garage.

Next, we lost Dad in June and have had to clear out seven storage rooms and his house, and in the process of preparing for the estate sale, I’ve brought home things to price – – such as old coins and all my great grandfather’s briarwood pipes and other relics that might have conjured up a spirit following them here with me.

I knew we had this invisible ghost when my eyes flew open, wide awake suddenly from a deep sleep where I thought I’d heard a noise. I turned on the camera in the garage, certain I was going to have to call 911 for an intruder. But that’s not what I saw.

I saw an orb. It was hovering and floating around just as you’d expect any ghost to do, all ethereally, very demure out there, not rattling any chains or slamming any objects around. It floated over between the camper and the truck like it was planning for how to pack when we go camping, and then it went off screen toward the Home Depot clearance sale fig tree before returning to the garage and floating unhurriedly in between the cars.

My husband woke at this point and asked what I was doing.

“We have a presence,” I told him. I added, “Don’t think me crazy, please. I have proof.”

When I explained I was waiting for the ghost to come back out of the garage, he pointed out it might have slipped through right underneath the camera where I couldn’t see it exit. Then, as an afterthought, he pulled up the camera in the living room – the one we use to check on the dogs – and there was no orb floating around in there. Good thing – – that’s just on the other side of our bedroom door.

I snapped a few photos, but then realized I needed to renew the Ring subscription to capture any video.

Flash forward to two nights ago, and I now see two orbs in one of the videos.

And last night, I captured sound for the first time. We’d gone to bed shortly before the time on the two videos that prompted the camera to record. I will check those out today and post them another day so that you can hear the clicking and breathing of this ghost. Perhaps this evening we will move more cameras around to this side of the house so that we can see from other angles as well.

Here on the Johnson Funny Farm, we continue to attract all the quirky animals, people, and spirits. We look forward to finding out who this is and how we can help. We feel it’s a friendly presence with some kind of unsettled business. And like all the wildlife around here, it has come to a safe place to find some peace.

#VerseLove Day 26 with Scott McCloskey of Michigan – Minor Ailments

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Scott of Michigan is our host for the 26th day of VerseLove2025, inspiring us to write poems about minor ailments. You can read his full prompt here. He gives these directions:  Choose a minor ailment – I just googled it to find a list – and spend a bit of time with it.  Write a poem about it. 

Blurred Vision Apparition

glancing out the living room

window in the early morning

after a night of fierce storms

I see it ~

there behind a tall pine

its left half still obscured

by the tree

an alien-looking specter

with a long right arm

peering in my window

eyes so real they’re trying

to tell me something

I remove my glasses,

rub each lens between the soft

cotton fold of my pajama shirt

and look again

the apparition is still there

with a sense of urgency

in its eyes

but as the sun rises

I realize

it is only the dry bark

of a tree that

didn’t get rain-saturated

but still

I can’t help wondering

its message

for me