Poetry Monday :: The Moon Tonight ~ Updated with Photo

Poetry Monday is a blogging game invented long ago. Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings and I are keeping it alive until Diane @ On the Border returns home from her break of health and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell.

We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home.

The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.

Today's prompt is: The Moon Tonight

The Moon at 7 pm.

The moon tonight
looks clear and bright -
at least I hope it will

It'll rise and shine
for me and mine
and sit upon the mill.

Then later on,
when night is gone
It settles on the hill

A little while
then dip and smile.
Give way for morning chill.

- - - - - - - - - - Coming Themes  - - - - - -

taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.

Apr 6 Passover
Apr 13 Fabulous
Apr 20 Superhero
Apr 27 Plaid
May 4 Back pack
May 11 Futuristic landscape

Sunday Selection :: Palm Sunday Edition :: Colour26 Søndagsbilleder :: Palmesøndag :: Colour 26

Today is Palm Sunday. As the Danish climate does not allow palm trees, we use boxwood branches instead.

-- ⸙⸙ --

I dag er det palmesøndag. Da klimaet i Danmark ikke er til palmer, bruger vi buksbomgrene i stedet.

For many years this cross had me mumbling not so nice words. It's just not made for tucking palm branches behind, neither through the hanger. This year I simply drilled a hole where the two parts meet and put the palm branch into the hole. Perfect!

-- ⸙⸙ --

Det her kors har irriteret mig hvert år til palmesøndag igennem adskillige år. Det duer bare ikke til at hænge palmegrene bag. Put den om bagved, og korset hænger og vingler, prøv at stikke dem gennem ophænget og alle bladene går af og det hænger alligevel sært. I år greb jeg boremaskinen og borede et hul der hvor de to dele mødes. Det virker bare!

Our combined work-, laundry-, and scullery needed a wall clock. This one was perfect. The only bother was that as soon as I had hung it up, I had to take it right back down to adjust it to that dang-blasted Daylight Saving Time, that began this night. Notice the small hand - it is the colour of the Month: Ocean Twilight Blue!

-- ⸙⸙ --

Der var også brug for et nyt ur ude i vores bryggers. Det her passer fint. Det eneste irriterende er at jeg straks jeg havde hængt det op, måtte pille det ned igen for at stille det om til den &%¤#£$€ sommertid, der startede i nat!
    Læg mærke til den lille viser, den er månedens farve: Ocean Twilight Blue!

Notice teh owl-hook. Finally I got them up. It and oits mate, shown below was a Christmas gift in 2024.

-- ⸙⸙ --

Læg mærke til ugleknagen. Den og dens makker nedenunder fik jeg også endelig hængt op. De var min julegave i 2024!

And Friday I found a new, children's rake. I use it in my greenhouse and mainly for the mucking of the chicken coop, where there's no room for full sized utensils. The old one was worn out - yes you can wear out a rake! The new one got some spray paint before its first job.

-- ⸙⸙ --

I fredags købte jeg en ny rive i børnestørrelse. Jeg bruger den af og til i drivhuset, men mest når jjeg muger ud hos hønsene, hvor der ikke er plads til at bruge almindelige redskaber. Den gamle var helt slidt op.
    Den nye rive skulle lige males inden den blev taget i brug, så jeg gik amok med et par spraydåser.

And today's Wordle was a word I did not know:

Wordle 1.744 6/6
⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜
⬜🟨⬜⬜⬜
⬜⬜⬜🟨⬜
🟩🟩🟩⬜⬜
🟩🟩🟩⬜⬜
🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Fredagsfrustration - folketingsvalget 2026 Friday Frustration - Election 2026

Valg er ikke for tøsedrenge.

Normalt er der ikke meget om politik og valg og den slags her på bloggen, men i dag gøres der en undtagelse.

Dette opslag vil forsvinde om kort tid, men forbliver som en side under "de glemte sider" neders til højre - sammen med mine andre politiske opslag.

Medens valgresultatet på landsplan kun var ubehageligt, var valget ved mit lille valgsted endog overvældende uhyggeligt.

Først resultatet på landsplan.

  -- ❎ --  ❌  -- 🇽 --

Elections aren’t for wimps.

Usually, there isn’t much about politics, elections and that sort of thing on this blog, but today I’m making an exception.

This post will disappear shortly, but will remain as a page under 'De glemte sider' (The Forgotten Pages) at the bottom right – along with my other political posts.

While the national election result was merely unpleasant, the election at my little polling station was downright scary.

First, the national picture

Vi plejer at sige, at der er  ca. 20 % af de stemmeberettigede, der er "grå stemmer" Dvs. stemmer, der enten er afgivet i pprotest eller i dumhed eller lignende og går til et parti. der ikke kan bruges til en eventuel regeringsdannelse. Et eksempel er Borgernes Parti. Denne gang nærmer den procentsats sig 30. Og det uhyggelige er her, hvor højt op de populistiske og nationalistiske partier er kommet.

Det bliver en gyser, hvis jeg ser på mit 'hood.

  -- ❎ --  ❌  -- 🇽 --

We usually say that around 20% of eligible voters are ‘grey votes’ – that is, votes cast either in protest or out of stupidity or similar reasons, and which go to a party that cannot be used to form a government. One example is Borgernes Parti (right wing populist - one man army). This time, that percentage is approaching 30. And the scary thing is just how high the populist and nationalist parties (O & Æ)have climbed.

The real horrors begin when I look at my neighbourhood:

Tænk at så mange af de pæne og normale mennesker, jeg hilser på, når vi går en tur i skoven, tømmer brevkassen, holder fastelavn i forsamlingshuset osv. virkelig stemmer på dem. Jeg går og undrer mig: Hvem er de mon, de 39, der har stemt på liste O? Og, og, og ...
    Så priser jeg mig lykkelig over at vi i den grad ikke er normgivende for Danmark som helhed.

Hvis jeg kigger lidt mere intenst og måske endda mistroisk på mine naboer i den kommende tid, er det vist ikke så sært.

  -- ❎ --  ❌  -- 🇽 --

To think that so many of the nice, ordinary people I greet when we go for a walk in the woods, empty the letterbox, celebrate Carnival at the village hall, and so on, actually vote for them. I find myself wondering: Who on earth are those 39 people who voted for O? And, and, and...
    Then I count myself lucky that we are by no means representative of Denmark as a whole.

If I look a little more closely – and perhaps even suspiciously – at my neighbours in the coming days, it probably isn’t that strange.

Colour of the Month ~ April ~ Månedens farve

The Colour of the Month for April is   ~   Månedens farve for april er

Words for Wednesday Peter's Time Travel ~ Part 7 and Last

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
    When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
    Now, after Sue's demise, River has taken the mantle of coordinator upon her shoulders.

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.

This month the words are supplied by River and are to be found on her blog.

If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.

 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.

And for today, Wednesday 25, we were given
Concoction 
Premises 
Smoky 
Genuine 
Stronger 
Grease

I used only strong, sorry maybe I should have worked in some of the other words, but I did not have the time. I am ending my dream-story of Peter's Time Travel here. If you want to read it in its entirety or just from one end to another without searching. it is here.

In the autumn I planted the two last eaves in the dry end of the field. Winter was spent mostly indoors, making tools and surviving the cold. In the end of winter, news from abroad told of Napoleon. I of course remembered having heard of him from my history lessons, but I had a hard time remembering more than general outline, and furthermore I had to take care not to know things, I could not know.

I wondered where the grandparents were, and I one day got up the courage to ask Elizabeth. She told a woeful story of diseases, accidents, and childbirth deaths.  I soon learned that life on a farm in the early 1800's was not without dangers, as the coming spring saw more accidents. In March one of the sows bit Hans in the hand, and it grew infected. He turned very ill and Lars and Anna discussed getting the doctor. He came and ordered poultices to pull out the infection. After this I asked Elizabeth to allow me to help her treat the wound. She accepted, and soon I had us both wash our hands, boil the rags and in general take hygienic measures. His condition did not improve, neither did it worsen, but he was getting weaker by trying to fend off the infection. Desperate measures were needed. I asked Elizabeth if her father could let us have a small measure of distilled spirits. He gave it to us, and I meticulously cleaned out the wounds, liberally pouring in spirits to the intense discomfort of poor Hans. Then we covered the wounded hand tightly with boiled rags, and repeated morning and evening.  After a few days the infected hand grew less red and swollen. and slowly, slowly he improved.

Some weeks later I fell off a wagon when the brakes suddenly failed, and broke my leg. It hurt a great deal, but thank God the skin was unharmed. The bone knit, and the swelling went down, but the bone was not set right, so from then on I needed a sturdy staff for walking. This was to my luck later on, when the Napoleonic wars swept through Europe and first Hans, and later young Christen was drafted, and I was rejected. Hans never returned, having been killed while saving the life of a well known general, and Christen returned, broken of body and mind, when finally the war ended.

One pretty August evening in 1807 we heard far off thunder in the air.  It repeated next evening, and rumours were afoot that it was not thunder, but the English bombing Copenhagen.  Next Tuesday the paper told us that this was in fact what had happened, and furthermore that the Danish king had decided to side with Napoleon against the English as a result. I knew from my earlier life that this would lead to no good end, but when, how much, and indeed if it would affect our small hamlet I had no idea.

Life went on mostly as it used to, but Elizabeth was not happy. I tried to discern why, but never quite succeeded. I had slowly fallen in love with the gentle yet strong girl. but my knowing that she was in fact a distant cousin or something like that kept me quiet. After remembering that my grandfather once told me that his family had "always" lived on that farm, I figured out that Lars and Anna had to be my ancestors. With the help of the slate, I found that they probably were my 6 times grandparents. It was a daunting thought.

One evening I found Elizabeth crying at the loom. I took her by the shoulders and held her sobbing form close to me. Quietly she told me that Lars would have her marry Mads, the young schoolteacher who taught me the lettering. He was not a bad one, but she did not want to.
"I don't want you to marry Mads either!" I said, a bit more vehemently than intended.
"Why not?" she asked, looking up at me with tears still flowing.
"Because I want to marry you, dang it," I said, throwing all caution to the winds. "But I'm a joke of a husband, lame, inept and no good for nothing."
"You are smart, clever and willing to learn."she replied, sobbing. "And what more is, I love you!"
"And I you," I said quietly, kissing her forehead.
The door opened and Lars came in. Elizabeth grasped my hand, and I held it tight. Lars looked at us, first in anger, then with a growing understanding.
"Do you want to marry that ... stranger?" he asked Elizabeth, "He is not a good farmer, being lame and ..."
"That's exactly what he said too," Elizabeth replied. "But yes, I would like to marry him, and he me!" I nodded vehemently, at a loss for words.
"But what am I going to say to Mads and his parents?" Lars said, looking for all the world just as my granddad looked when he had to scold me and did not mean it.
"Well," I risked, "Maybe ask them if they'd like to have an unhappy bride and if that's not enough you could tell them what you though had happened here tonight. How do you think they'd like to not be certain that Mads' offspring was really his own?" It was a statement at high stakes, I had learned the punishments for adultery during my work at the church registers, I had also learned that the monetary punishment was halved if the guilty parts married, which I had found a very wise solution.

"I have seen what you think of my 'It's not done'. And I'm sure you mean it now, but what about in the years to come, when war and diseases will graze the lands?" Lars asked.

"We will survive, and even prosper, just as my outlandish grains did,"  I replied, the certainty from knowing that I was destined to become my own several times great-granddad, colouring my voice.

Form then on it went smoothly. That same evening w stood in the gate, my arm around Elizabeth's slender waist, looking out over the lands and the view I had always loved as a child, 200 years in the future. I would never return to my old life. My destiny was to stay here, to become my own ancestor - how was this even possible? My head spun. But the view was as great as ever,  clear and bright in the pre-industrial air, Elizabeth was sweet as honey, perfect in every way, and my wheat was thriving in the small field I had made for it.

I was in the unique position of knowing beyond any doubt that my great-great-great-great-grandchildren would some day play in these very fields.

Life was, if not perfect, then at least very good.


* * * * * * *  *  *  *   *   *   *    *    *     *

Notes:
I dreamt this in the night from Sunday 15th to Monday 16th. It was a very vivid dream, and I woke up still feeling the semi-coarse fabric of Elizabeth's dress under my fingers and the worn timbers from the gate along my other arm. The dream stayed with me all of Monday; whenever I closed my eyes I was transported back to 1800 Riisbye. Tuesday and Wednesday residues still lingered; so much so that when we passed a barber shop Ash Wednesday - the 18th - I thought 'just fine, I do need a haircut!' Only it was my dream-person needing it, not me.

Normally I am not superstitious, or believe in earlier lives, messages from the afterlife or any such.
But ... a hamlet named Riisbye does in fact exist, consisting of four farms, along with a big parish church and an ancient baptismal font. Furthermore my paternal grandparents do come from somewhere around there ... I never succeeded in getting much traction with them, but now I think I'll have to do some genealogical search to see if I have any ancestors back there and then.