onsdag den 27. marts 2024

Words for Wednesday :: Plant Edition

This challenge started a long time ago. Now it has turned into a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator; and the Words provided by a number of people.

The general idea of this challenge is to make us write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

 It is also a challenge, where the old saying
"The more the merrier" holds true.

So please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

-- 🧙 --

The Words for the Wednesdays in March are provided by
River, who has decided to use fewer words in the hope that more people might be tempted to join us.

Today's words are
:
Bewilderment
Gossamer
Previous
Umbrella
Survivor
Midnight
Windowless

I am busy plant dyeing, planting, weeding and growing. So a real life story must do.

To my bewilderment all 24 of my Dyers knotweed seeds sent up their gossamer sprouts. Previous attempts have only made one in three grow.
Now I'll have to invent some sort of plant-umbrella so that the sun won't scorch the pretties. Any and all survivors will eventually be transplanted into larger containers, and later into my garden - when the frost is wholly and totally gone. It won't be a midnight project, but sure a late evening one, so that the small ones - hopefully way larger by then - will be able to survive the jump from my windowsill to the great, windowless outdoors.

And a picture to prove my words:
I know, it looks like the three bottom left has not germinated. They have.

mandag den 25. marts 2024

Poetry Monday :: Happy News

Poetry Monday is a challenge, normally hosted by Diane at On the Border. But from Monday, January 8, 2024, Messymimi and I have conspired to keep the chair warm for her, as she's taking a break due to health issues. We will each set the topics for one month, I began with January, Mimi supplied for February, and so on until Diane returns.

Today is
Happy News.

Next Mondauy Mimi
is once again taking over with her prompts: Shelf (Apr. 1), Order (Apr. 8), Tape
 (Apr. 15), Running (Apr. 22), and Quiet (Apr. 29). I look forward to this, as I have had a hard time using my own.


Happy news is what we need
Lots of happy news indeed.
Happy news for you and me,
Happy news for land and sea,
For the bee and for the tree
and for prisoners and free.

Soon it will be Easter time,
Once again the bells will chime.
With this little poem of mine
I wish you all a lot of rhyme,
Lots of love, and lots of time
With your loved ones, and some wine.

 - - - - -

Next Monday  Shelf

søndag den 24. marts 2024

Sunday Selection :: Artichoke

Today I want to boast of my Artichokes - They are growing! I planted the seeds march 1st, look at them now!

I dag vil jeg bare prale med mine artiskokker - jeg såede frøene den 1. marts, se dem lige!


Og jeg er sikker på at de er olivengrønne - And surely they are Olive green.

torsdag den 21. marts 2024

Words for Wednesday ~ March 20 ~ Pippin's Sorrows

This challenge started a long time ago. Now it has turned into a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator; and the Words provided by a number of people.

The general idea of this challenge is to make us write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

 It is also a challenge, where the old saying
"The more the merrier" holds true.

So please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

-- 🧙 --

The Words for the Wednesdays in March are provided by
River, who has decided to use fewer words in the hope that more people might be tempted to join us.

Today's words are
:

1. Off the beaten track
2. Cheeky old fella's goin' fishin'
3. Bouquet
4. Marketing  
5. Cape
6. Crease

These words were not very well suited for my story. I used only some of them.
It is a small chapter happening in the future at Birch Manor. Maybe half a year after the - as yet unfinished - long Saturday. This story has been bubbling in my brain for a long time, these last days surfacing at the most inappropriate times, getting in the way of work and fun. I just had to write it down.

The first few lines are a summary of how things are now.


Pippin's sorrows
.
Things were running smoothly at Birch Manor. Helge was developing as a leader, My had arrived and taken over the teaching of potions, leaving Monica free to tend to the wine and party business in Oslo together with Olav, but their children and grandchildren were staying at the school, and they popped in at odd times for a visit or when needed, all this made easier by the now finished portals network.
Fiona handled the flying after Martine's demise, and Marit was the healing expert, sometimes helped by Fiona.
Susan and Knud of course handled the education in nature magic and the calling of animals. Some of the apprentices, among those mainly little Susan had asked for Familiars, but it was decided to postpone this question to a future day.
Heidi - now again using her old name, as did the twins, Tage and Lis - was master of transformation, while Jan handled the divination, assisted by the aforementioned Lis and her mother, Sandra, who was still alive and eager to help.
Finnbogi came as often as his job permitted and taught Portals and discernment magic and gave Mary extra education in discernment magic, simultaneously teaching her father, Rasmus quite a lot.

All seemed happy and busy. but one day when Susan had to check up on lil'Susan's bunnies, she found Lis' youngest grandson sobbing his heart out into the fur of the oldest, largest and most placid of Lil'Susan's many rabbits.
"But Pippin," Susan said and sat down on the bench next to him. "What happened? Did the old rabbit bite you?"
Pippin managed a shadow of a smile, the old rabbit was known to eat only grated carrots and shredded salad, as it had almost no teeth left.
"No," he sobbed, "it's ... do you promise not to laugh?"
"I'll do my very best," Susan promised.
"Ever since the day we had our wands sung, I have thought of how it was to listen to the tree's songs ..."
"That's no laughing matter," Susan said, while Pippin blew his nose.
"I ... I would like to ... but ... no," and he started crying again.
Susan put her arms around him, telling the rabbit to go home. Pippin sobbed on for a bit, and Susan dug some tissues from one of her pockets: "They're creased, but not dirty. Now wipe your eyes and blow your nose once again. I think I know what you want to say, but you have to tell me yourself."
Pippin looked at Susan with big, brown eyes, now red and swollen from crying. Susan met his eyes and smiled an encouraging smile. He took the proffered tissues. After using them as suggested, he closed his eyes and balled his hands and spoke in one breath: "I would so, so much like to be able to sing wands like you and My do it, but Dora and Milo, Mary and Roseanne and all the others say that only girls can be wandsingers!" He buried his curly head in Susan's lap and started sobbing again.
Susan stroke his unruly locks while thinking. All the wandsingers she knew and had known, had been female, Thora, Tähti, My, Rósa, Anna, Aamu, and herself, but was this a rule set in stone? She had never contemplated this aspect of wandsinging before.
"Am I that terrible. Are my siblings and Mary and all the others right?" Pippin asked, his voice flat and sad beyond tears.
"No, at least I do not think so," Susan said, still thinking. "I do not know many wandsingers, actually only the five of us here. And our teachers; and they were female as well. But I do not know if this is purely coincidental or what."
She lifted Pippin's head between her hands, and looked him squarely in the eyes. He did not look away or flinch, but withstood her scrutiny.
"Well, the only thing we can do is try," She said, "come with me. Do you remember which tree gave you your wand?"
"Do I?" Pippin answered, "I have been visiting it often." He pulled Susan along down to the small wood near the pond. "This one here, this Maple!"
"And what do you do when you visit the tree?" Susan asked, trying to keep the budding happiness out of her voice.
"I hug it, place my hands on the bark, and just listen," Pippin answered, his voice so quiet, Susan had to bend down and listen carefully.
"Show me!" she said.
Pippin looked at her, back at the tree, and as Susan nodded, he placed both hands on the tree. In a short while his face changed ever so subtly, a slight smile turned his mouth upwards, he closed his eyes, rested his head against the tree, and sighed a complacent sigh.
Susan placed her own hands on the tree and listened; it sang of the summer's sun, of rain and snow, of sweet sap and bitter frost. It told of the children playing rhinos with its fruits and of cheeky old fellas goin' fishin' in the lake. Susan laughed. Pippin looked at her: "Do you hear what the tree tells you as well?"
"Yes I do," she answered truthfully. "And some of those stories are quite amusing. Dear Pippin, we're off the beaten tracks here, try singing with me." Pippin nodded, and Susan taught him the wandsinging tune. He sang it loud and clear, and the tree quivered in response.
"Obviously Dora and Milo and who else said only girls can become wandsingers are wrong," Susan said, "you sure have it in you to become a wandsinger. We'll have to go and speak with My and possibly the other wandsingers as well. Come along."
Pippin jumped along and Susan had to run just a bit to keep up with him. "Sorry," he said and slowed down, "I just feel a bit like flying!"
As they waited for My to finish the lesson, Susan asked the still smiling and jumping Pippin how old he was. "I'm 11, 12 in August," Pippin answered.
"We might have a problem when your voice starts breaking, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Susan said. "But no matter what, I'm happy to know that we still will have wandsingers in the future."

mandag den 18. marts 2024

Poetry Monday :: Meaning :: Updated

Poetry Monday is a challenge, normally hosted by Diane at On the Border. But from Monday, January 8, 2024, Messymimi and I have conspired to keep the chair warm for her, as she's taking a break due to health issues. We will each set the topics for one month, I began with January, Mimi supplied for February, and so on until Diane returns.

Today is
Meaning.

And oops I did it again. I wrote a poem in my mind yesterday evening, thinking I sure would remember it.

I forgot all about it while sleeping and visiting the dentist this morning. And by all I mean ALL. Normally I do remember a line or two, and even what it was about, but this time around it evaporated in its entirety.

I'll try and write a new poem today, while biking, working an knitting. But as my brain now feels as empty as a pauper's purse, please do not hold your breath.

--
Meaning --

I'm sorry. I wrote the most corny poem ever. I cannot find anything else inside my brain.

Love gives meaning to every thing
Love sealed with a golden ring
Gives meaning to aching
Gives meaning to making
and even to baking.
 
 - - - - -

Next Monday: Happy news