Flere overlevende -- More survivors

Den ukendte  --  The unknown

    Til start stod den i en balje vand på terrassen, men jeg læste, at den ikke tålte frost og væde, så jeg satte den tæt op ad huset. Den overlevede vinteren i fineste stil, som her man ser.
     Nu ville jeg så se, om den kunne plantes ud. Og så var skiltet væk ... og det er jo ikke en lykkekløver, som jeg huskede.
     En bøn om hjælp på Havenyt afslørede den som Trifolium repens purpurascens alias Trifolium repens atropurpureum, som jeg kunne genkende, da jeg så det.Det er en sort af hvidkløver med røde aftegninger, så den er allerede plantet ud.

---

This one lived in a bowl of water. I read on the plastic with name and so on, that it was not tolerant of frost or too much water.  I placed it right beside the door, watering it sparingly all through winter. And as can be seen it not only survived, it thrived.
Then I wanted to see if I could transplant it, or it had to be kept in a pot. The piece of plastic had flown away or been stolen by some animal. At least it was not there. And the name, I remembered, did not give this plant upon searching. I asked for help and got it at Havenyt (Gardening News - a forum etc. for organic gardening.) It is a Trifolium repens purpurascens alias Trifolium repens atropurpureum, the last name was the one on the pot - i recognized it. it's a clover and I'm sure very hardy. It has already been transplanted.

--- 📷 ---

De gamle kendinge --  The usual suspects

     Laurbærplanten overlevede sit sædvanlige vinterophold i vores badeværelse. Og som det kan ses på den lyserøde tandbørste overlevede skjoldlusene sammen med den.

---

The  Laurel survived its usual winter visit to our bathroom. My old nemesis - the wax scales - survived as well, as can be deduced from the presence of the pink toothbrush.

De overlevende -- Survivors

     Apropos Television, temaordet til Onsdagsord (Words for Wednesday) bringer Uglemors TV nu et afsnit i den fortsatte serie: De Overlevende, (De gode, de uventede og de uudholdelige). Og nej det har intet ud over navnet til fælles med med TV-serien af samme navn fra 1976.

--- 📺 ---

Apropos Television - Prompt for Words for Wednesday - OwlTV now presents Survivors, (The good, the unexpected and the insupportable). And it has nothing except the name in common with the British TV-serials from 1976, one of my childhood memories.

--- 📷 ---

Vi begynder med de gode --  We begin with the good ones

Løvstikken overlevede, og den har fået nogle påskeliljer til at holde sig med selskab.

---

The lovage survived, and has gotten some daffodils to keep them company

Min gode mynte overlevede igen. 

--

My tasty mint survived as usual

Den endnu bedre mynte overlevede heldigvis også

-- 

The even tastier mint survived as well.

 De nye hvide ribs overlevede begge to

---

Both of the white redcurrants survived. Yay. 

--- 📷 ---

Og så til de uventede -- and now; the unexpected

Fenniklerne overlevede begge to. Nu håber jeg på masser af frø, for det er dem, jeg bruger. 

---

 The Fennel survived - hoping for lots of seeds, as that's the part I use.

Den arktiske hindbær var væk i efteråret, men den har da tilsyneladende overlevet. 

---

Arctic strawberries. They went missing last autumn, but here they are again. 

 Dette her er ægte kamille - håber jeg. Jeg såede millioner af frø (de er bittesmå - tænk på kamiliethe) og der kom 2 usle planter. De skal måske ligge og lure

--

Chamomile for tea I hope. I sowed thousands of seeds last year (think of chamomile tea - that small) and had two measly plants. They might need a cold spell.

Midt i kamillerne (?) kommer der søreme en valmue. Velkommen igen. Der var ingen sidste år. 

--

And in between all the Chamomiles a poppy's growing. Yay, welcome back. We had no poppies last year.

Den brogede syre overlevede. Jeg troede den var enårig :)

--

The  sorrel survived. I thought it was annual.

 Og jeg håber ... måske er det endelig lykkedes at få lakridsen til at overleve. 

---

Hoping that I finally succeeded in having the licorice plants  survive. 

--- 📷 ---

 Og så den uudholdelige --  And now the insupportable. 

 Lægekulsukker! Uglemor vil meget gerne have kulsukker, men ikke lige dér! hun har gravet bedet igennem mindst 5 gange, plukket ethvert fremspirende blad i flere måneder, men den overlever bare!

---

Comfrey! MotherOwl is growing comfrey. But not right here! She bug the bed at least three times, picked every sprouting leaf for months, and still it grows!

Køreplaner - sidste opdatering

Kære venner, kære Movia og co.

Nu giver jeg op. Jeg har nu fundet ud af, at der i stedet for køreplaner vil komme intervaller. Altså "Mellem 8.00 og 16.00 kører bussen hver 5. minut" eller hvad der nu måtte være relevant.
Her hos mig vil det faktisk være værre end ingenting
     Den ene retning vill se sådan ud:

          Rutenummer
     Rute Helsinge St. - Tisvildeleje st. Stoppesteder (gider ikkke remse op)
     Mandag - fredag mellem 5 og 19 - 1 gang i timen
     Lørdag mellem 8 og 16  - 1 gang i timen
     Søndag - Kører ikke.

Forestil dig at du skulle med den bus herfra og kom hen til stoppestedet lørdag klokken 16.08. Ville du gætte på at bussen ikke var gået endnu og vente?
Hvis ja, ville du få en lang næse, Bussen gik 16.01. Den næste går mandag morgen 5.30.
Du kunne løbe ud til hovedvejen og nå bussen dér 16.13. Det kræver at du er hurtig på tasterne og ret hurtig til at finde den rette vej. Den næste bus derfra går 17.13.

Det er åbenbart ikke meningen at vi skal kunne bo på landet og ikke have en bil.
Siden jeg for godt 22 år siden flyttede på landet, har jeg kæmpet for at overbevise familie, naboer, venner og bekendte om at man godt kunne bo på landet uden at have bil.

• Jeg kæmpede, da de smarte køreplanshæfter udgik i '14
• Jeg kæmpede, da indførelsen af Rejsekortet og udfasningen af klippekort i 2015 fik prisen på vores korte rejser til at stige til det dobbelte.
• Jeg kæmpede, da det nye, uretfærdige Takstzone Sjælland fik prisen på vores lange rejser til at stige med godt 30 % i 2017.
• Jeg kæmpede videre, da Rejseplanen gik fra uduelig til næsten ubrugelig også i 2017.

Men  efter den seneste "serviceforbedring" i 2018-19 føler jeg, at jeg har tabt kampen. Gudskelov at jeg stadig kan cykle.

Jeg har naturligvis - og også for sidste gang - opdateret En tur med bussen

Words for Wednesday - Unicorn Farm - The Beginning 1

Delores at Mumblings  is supplying the prompts for Words for Wednesday for the last time today. She gave us Television. Thank you for giving us a fresh take batch of prompts, Delores!

The only episodes of Unicorn Farm where television plays a part - albeit only as a supporting actor - is right in the beginning. The first visit to Unicorn Farm. It might be time to write that chapter out in English as well. 
There's not much magic in this first part, but with patience - and good prompts - it will eventually come. 

To allay any confusion - I hope - the chapters will be captioned with the words: Unicorn Farm-The Beginning 1 - ...

You know, if I carry on like this, I'll have to send my manuscript to an English publishing house - then you can have the honour of being my proof readers ;)  Please point out any mistakes you find. I love getting better.

Aunt Dina and uncle Kurt had finally finished building their new summerhouse. Last summer Susan and her little sister, Linda, had been watching, while uncle Kurt laid the first bricks for the house, not one but many times. He had tried different ways to lay the bricks in patterns and chose the best, not the one Susan liked best of course, but not the one Linda voted for either.The summerhouse was brand new all right, but it was ever so boring. The adults found it was practical and compact. It was mostly just a big cube with glass on the side facing the water. To the right when you entered was a bathroom and Kurt and Dina's bedroom. The rest was one large room with lots of airy space and a fireplace on the wall opposite the bathroom. The garden was as boring as the house. Newly planted ornamental trees with support rods and windblown hedges bordering the plots on two sides where the neighbouring plots looked just the same. The fourth side was open, leading to a big, rolling field of some grain and behind that the cliffs and finally the beach. Last summer, they all had still slept in the small wooden shed that now had been downgraded to a garage and fortunately also to a guest rooms for the girls.
Susan and Linda were warmly welcomed by their aunt and uncle. Then they helped carry things from the car into the house. When that was done, they rushed to see if everything was as it used to be. The summerhouse was totally uninteresting, just a base for hiking trips in the area. The excitement began where the hedges and the yellowing lawn stopped. Out in the corn field that everybody was allowed to play and walk in! You could build intricate complexes in the style of beaver holes, but you could also just go for a walk, picking grains and wild flower bouquets. You could sit quietly hidden, hoping that a rabbit came by. They often raced the rabbits, but the rabbits always won. Or you could just lie on your back and look past the slowly moving ears of corn up on drifting white clouds, that created always new patterns and pictures.

At first they played in the grain field, making the almost ritual tunnel from the path down to the water. Then they ran down the path to see if the stairs leading to the water was still there. It was. Solid railroad sleepers curved down towards the shore. They ran down the sleepers loudly counting the steps 29, 30, 31, 32! Yes, they were all there. They did not go for a swim, only waded in the water, because the waves were big that day. Big enough to push over a little girl. The water was wonderful, Susan loved the big waves, it was wonderful to skip through them, and over them tumbling like a dolphin. But this pleasure had to wait.
Out at sea, a boat sailed past, loaded with strange looking people in Icelandic sweaters and with looking glasses around the neck.
"It's probably the ornithologists, aunt Dina talked about," Susan said, feeling relieved to have remembered the strange word.
"Oy," Linda replied, "why do yo always have to use all those big words. It's just a boat full of bird watchers." Susan resisted the temptation to answer that she had read it in a book somewhere, partly because it was not true, partly because she did not want to start the holiday with a quarrel.

The two sisters were very different. Susan, the eldest, had just turned 13, her hair was straight, common dull blonde and almost always tousled, the elastic bands fell out, or broke, or got lost, she almost always ended the day with both braids gathered in one hair band. She was tall, not very slim nor fat. Just plain. Unlike Linda, she loved reading books. Linda would rather sit on the back of a horse, or dress up in new clothes, or play with baby dolls. Her hair was fair and wavy, her hair bands - the fashionable ones with two balls in them - never got lost, her teeth were neat and white, and she never had any cavities. She had many girlfriends, and they talked and giggled in her room. Right now she was only 11, This was the half of the year when Susan was two years her senior, and she was not happy with that. She was more than 6 months away from her 12th birthday.

After having reassured themselves that their large stones were still there at the water's edge where they used to, they went looking for belemnites in the rubble below the cliffs. Today, Linda was lucky and  found the first one, but a little later Susan found a petrified sea urchin half hidden in a stone. They agreed to go home again, it would soon be time for dinner. Linda and Susan raced one another on the paths back to the summerhouse.

After supper, the television was turned  on. The Olympics had just begun and the adults sat watching drinking soda and Campari and cheered on all the Danish participants, whether they were good or not. Susan took a red soda and a book went outside to sit on the terrace. She pondered the strangeness of adults in general and more specifically her parents. Why did they cheer on someone, just because he was a Dane. That swimmer was not even very good. And the stuff they were drinking! By accident, Susan had happened to drink from her mother's glass. Even diluted in lots of soda, it was awful! And to boot Mom and Dad and the others just became stupid from drinking it. Susan would remember this. She did not want to grow up and behave like that. She wanted to live alone in a small cabin near the forest, with a large, lovely garden and a wood burning stove inside. And people would only be allowed inside if they were nice. Susan sat with the book in her lap and her legs stretched out on the terrace boards. The stars began popping out in the sky, and with them the mosquitoes. She hurried into the garage and into bed.

Poetry Monday :: Monkeys

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Monkeys. (courtesy of Jenny).
What to do with such a theme?
 I had to monkey around, monkeying an old counting rhyme.

-- 🐵 --

Sock monkey, Brass monkey, Grease monkey, Thief.
Desk monkey, Code monkey, Funky monkey, Chief.

-- 🐒 -- 

Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey skiftes til at opkaste et tema til et mandagsdigt. Dagens tema er Aber.

-- 🐵 --

Hvad kan man gøre  med sådan et tema andet end at abe efter? Digtet efterligner en en engelsk tælleremse.

🙈 🙉 🙊

Køreplaner - igen-igen!

Ja, når de løber tør for strøm, skal vi tjekke køreplanen - det er en ommer DOT.
Og jeg har selvfølgelig opdateret En tur med bussen

WfW - the Positive Half - Unicorn Farm 28

fresh, growing, alive, active, hope, dreams.

Susan and Tue donned their winter gear once again. They held one another' hands tightly, as Tue teleported them to the Unicorn Farm. Fresh air hit Susan's face and she opened her eyes to the whiteness of the meadow behind the farm. It was deserted. During the winter holidays everybody left before sunset. Susan and Tue walked hand in hand over to the small kitchen entrance. They were careful to obliterate their footprints and close the door behind them. They opened the door to the storage room and found everything as Susan had left it. The blue shimmer of an active portal looked reassuring in the gloom. Anyway it was strange being alone in the big room. Susan was happy that Tue was around, and Tue admitted to himself that he found Susan very brave for coming here all alone the day before.
Together they jumped through the portal and stood beneath the huge walnut tree. The weather was different here, no snow, but rain and sleet coming hard at them. "Oh. I forgot that the weather here is often warmer." Susan said. "Although warmer in this case means more unpleasant."
Tue asked if she was sure they were all alone here, and at Susan's affirmation pulled out his wand and cast an umbrella spell on them. "Phew, thanks!" Susan said. "I want to learn that one."
They took the shortcut to Susan's house. Everything was dark. Together they went up the driveway leading through the front garden and along the house.
"Do you have the main entrance at the back," Tue asked.
"Yes," Susan said. There was an entrance at the front as well, but it was some sort of agency long ago, and lead directly into our living room. My father built a wall instead of the door when I was small. Oh, I hope nobody's at home tonight. Saturday is normally their night out."

Tue went alone around the corner while Susan stood pressed against the wall. He rang the bell. Twice. Nothing happened. They waited for a long time. Then Susan went to a niche in the back wall, fumbled behind the statue and pulled out the spare key. She opened the door and led the way up the stairs to the attic. As was her wont she took the key to the attic with her and hung it on the spike near the ovoid hole in the insulation. She pulled Tue with her into the small room and sat by the table there:
"Percy," she said softly. "I have brought you a visitor, we need your help." Susan repeated this a couple of times phrased in different ways. Suddenly Tue shivered, Susan put a warning finger to her lips.
"Who is this?" a transparent voice asked.
"His name is Tue, and if we're right, you know his mother."
"His mother, I don't know very many mothers. My own left me some years ago."
"Do you remember moving?" Susan asked.
The white shape shivered.
"Was that a yes?" Susan asked. "You're very immaterial tonight."
Percy became more girl-like, less transparent, and now they could see her nodding.
"In the place, where you lived earlier. Did you have a friend there?"
Percy nodded again.
"Was her name Cassandra, normally known as Sandra?" Susan asked. Percy nodded again and threw herself to the floor, putting her arms around Susan's legs. She felt like she was immersed in a creeping fog, but she kept still.
"You have to help us. That bad man, you know, the one in the photo. He's up to more of his bad tricks. Sandra is in danger."
Percy was growing steadily less ghostlike, more solid, and she asked: "How, what, I mean. How can I help you. I'm not alive any more. I can't do anything."
"Yes you can. You can draw. You can come along and answer a lot of questions. Tell us what we need to know." Susan said in a steady voice.
"Can I come along?" Percy wondered "I can't go anywhere, or can I. And how."
"Well," Susan asked. How do you get around in this house?"
"Like this," Percy answered, got up and glided over the floorboards.
"And can't you go just anywhere like that?"
"No, only to places I know."
"You could go with us?" Susan said. "Tue and I can hold your hands, then we could go together and help Sandra fight the bad, bad man. You know, I'll tell you a secret. Tue here, he's a wizard. He can bring us everywhere he wants to."
"My daddy was a wizard too. He was big and strong and not afraid of anything. I always dreamed of being like him. I'll come."

"Let's get outside,"  Tue said. "Maybe your parents will be home soon."
Susan went down the stairs with Percy and then Tue following her. While she locked the door and put the key back in place, Tue scouted the surroundings. They were just about to leave, when Tue came back. "Somebody's coming." he whispered loudly. A car came up the narrow path to the house. "It's my parents' car. Quickly. Let's climb the fence to next door." It was not the first time Susan had climbed that fence, but she had never done so in the dark and rain before. The top was slippery and wet. "Oh, this is stupid," she gasped and pulled out her wand. Tue did the same, and quickly they soared over the fence, down into the neighbouring backyard. It was a mirror image of the one they just left. They stood for a while, until their hearts stopped racing. They heard the sounds of slamming car doors and Susan's mom's voice telling Linda to get inside "But I saw something." Susan recognized Linda's voice. "I saw Susan's stupid ghost over there in the corner by the fence."
"Oh, don't get started on that again." Mom said. "I'm sure it was the white cat from across the street. I'm not even sure that ghost is real at all. Susan can be very peculiar, you know."
Susan blanched. Tue and Percy both squeezed her hands.
"Let me go!" Linda's voice was loud an petulant. "I want to go and see for myself!"
"With all our noise, and your yelling that cat is far away by now." Susan's father said. "Let's get inside. It's late already."
"Let me go!" Percy whispered. "Susan's stupid ghost! I'll show them!"
"No!" Susan whispered, terrified. "Don't. You'll just ruin our chance at stopping the bad man."
"Stay, oh please stay here, Percy," Tue implored.
Finally they heard the door closing. When they were sure nobody was coming they quietly went out to the street, Susan and Tue each holding one of Percy's ghostly hands. Safely out on the street they turned left, aiming for the least busy road to the portal.

Forårsdag 2 -- Spring Day 2

     Uglemor tog på indkøb på cykel, vejret var fint og der skulle købes et ny vandtårn til hønsene. Den gamle var blevet smadret af en uforsigtig Uglemor i frostvejr.
     Undervejs var der mange spændende ting at se.

 -- 🌤 --

MotherOwl went shopping by bike. The weather was nice and she had to buy a new chicken waterer. MotherOwl broke the old one on a frosty winter's day.  
She saw some interesting things on her way.

Blomstrende mirabeller. Kun dette ene træ blomstrede endnu i det kilometerlange levende hegn. 

 -- 🌸 --

 Cherry plum tree flowering. Only this one tree was flowering in a very long hedgerow. 

Flotte støttepinde til hindbærbuske i lange rækker. 

 -- 🐌 --

 Pretty supports for raspberry plants.

Tjørnebuskene står på spring. 

  -- 🌸 --

 The hawthorn bushes will be flowering very soon.

Hjemme igen blomstrede vores troldhassel meget smukt. 

. -- 🌰 --

 Back home the corkscrew hazel was flowering with long green catkins.

Fuglebolde i net er normalt ikke nogen god idé. Nettene flyver rundt og vikler sig ind i alt muligt. Men hvis man nu binder en snor i, så flyver plastnettet ingen steder, de er nemmere at hænge op, og snoren kan genbruges.

 -- 🐦 --

 Bird feed with plastic netting is not very good, The netting gets blown away, spreading plastic and getting caught up in birds' nests, choking the small birds. But if you tie a string to the netting it does not fly away, it is easier to hang, and the string can be reused all winter.

Haveuglens rede inden lugning. 

 -- 🦉 --

 GardenOwl's nest before weeding.

Krydderurtebedet fik også en omgang.  

-- 🍀 --

The herbal bed had a much needed weeding as well.

Hønsene og deres nye vandtårn. De fik mange spande ukrudt i dagens løb.
Men de er altid sultne. 

-- 🥚 --

The hens and their new waterer. They had many bucketfuls of weeds today.
But they are always hungry.

Og endelig. Haveuglen er på plads i sin rede.  Parat til at herse med os alle sammen hele sommeren.
Til højre for Haveuglen har Uglemor plantet tudseliljer.

-- 🐸 --

And finally GardenOwl is king of the garden once more.
To the right of GardenOwl MotherOwl planted some toad lilies.

Forår igen - Spring once again

     Hvert år overvælder foråret mig med sin farvepragt og grokraft. Det føles som om jeg slår de samme billeder op igen og igen, men de her er altså taget i går efter et par timers intensivt havearbejde.
     I dag kommer Haveuglen ud igen, efter at jeg har luget og pyntet reden, naturligvis.

-- 🦉 --

Every year spring feels bigger than life. So many colours! so many things sprouting, growing and budding. I feel like I am posting the same photos every year, bu these are a brand new batch, snapped yesterday after several hours of intensive gardening.
Today GardenOwl will be carried out to the nest again. After I have weeded the nest and made it pretty.

Chilierne blev sået den 14. marts. Mange af dem er allerede spiret. Dem uden navn ved er citronchilier.
--

The chillies were sown March 14th. Many of them had sprouted yesterday. The nameless ones to the right are lemon chillies.

De her blomstrer allerede til glæde for de vilde bier - Rød Tvetand
--

Flowers for the wild bees: Red dead-nettle

og lungeurt
-- 
and lungwort

For en gangs skyld har vi martsvioler i marts.
--

Sweet violets are called March violets in Danish.
They seldom bloom in March (normally April) but this year it happened.

Rabarberene gror
--
 The rhubarbs are growing

Ramsløgene gør også deres bedste.
--

The ramsons are doing their very best.

Mine stjålne scillafrø er endelig blevet til blomster. 

My stolen scilla seeds have finally turned into flowers.

Uglemor er begyndt forfra igen på at strikke sin trøje - nej, farven er ikke karry-fesen. Det han noget med lys og plantefarvet garn at gøre. Den er solgul i virkeligheden. 

Neverkont på rundpinde. Kom så, Uglemor!

-- --

MotherOwl once again began over knitting the jumper in plant dyed yarn. No it is not a dirty curry yellow. Light and camera not liking plant dyes are to blame. It is bright sunshine yellow. Entrelac in the round. Come on, MotherOwl!

Hønsene lægger æg. Jeg nyder de smukke farver. 

-- 

The chicken are laying. Pretty colours here as well.

WfW - the Negative half - Unicorn Farm 27

As I wrote yesterday. Delores'  prompts did not speak to me at all. But then, after having written a  chapter of my story, I just had to write a bit more, and the first half of the prompts - the negative ones - all fit the story.

1. blasted
2. withered
3. derelict
4. broken
5. chained
6. ground


We just continue right where we laid off yesterday. Maybe tomorrow or later a new chapter will be written, containing all the positive words. 

1. fresh,
2. growing,
3. alive,
4. active,
5. hope,
6. dreams.



Kai handed Sandra the folder. "Fonts de Jouvences" she read, "That place is called 'The fountain of youth'. So very phony." She held her wand over the paper, and it quivered like a hungry dog. Then black smoke sprang from the tip.
"Yup, suggestive paper. Heidi get me some brandy, 6 small glasses and a copper plate - and a teaspoon."
Sandra placed the folder in the middle of the table on the copper plate, "Kveik!" she commanded. The folder burst into multicoloured, almost hypnotic flames. When they had burned down, Sandra ground the paper with the spoon, poured a small amount of brandy in each of the six glasses, and put a pinch of the still hot ashes into each of them. She distributed the glasses and raised her own: "Skilum!" she said, and emptied her glass. Kai, Tue and Lis were quick to follow her example, but Susan and Heidi looked at her with distrust. Normally they were forbidden to touch alcohol, and now Sandra bade them drink it.
"Oh, go on and drink it!" she said with a stern look. "That small amount won't hurt you!"  They raised their glasses and drank. It tasted awful. It burned, it scorched their throat. Susan started coughing. and Heidi looked as if she was choking. Tue and Lis did not look happy either, their faces were drawn and their mouths clenched tight. But Susan felt her mind clearing.
"Thank you, my love!" Kai said. "You have broken the chains that held me. I am now the master of my own mind again."
"Oh what a perfectly awful thing to do. Is this what happened to my parents with the invitation to Unicorn Farm?" Susan asked.
"No, or rather at least not as forcefully. Gilvi and I only used a mild suggestion, they still were free to say 'no' if they wanted to."
"Boy, I'm glad to hear that. I hate that magic gives us such power over other peoples' mind."
"Yes this was bad." Sandra said. "It was black magic. I hope that we're the only ones having studied that folder closely, but I fear not." We'll have to convene all the teachers here tonight.

"No." Susan exclaimed. "Do not call Torben. He's in league with the owner of the Fontes-whatever place. Remember what we said about the person on that blasted folder being the villain in the movie? Wait a sec."  She ran upstairs and got her folder: "Look at this!" she said as she pulled the photo from her folder and threw it at the table. "This is the owner, and Torben shaking his hand."
Sandra snatched the photo and stared at it for a second, then she passed it on to Kai. "What is this? Where do that photo come from? What more do you know? Now is the time to tell everything!" Sandra looked more angry than any of the children ever had seen her. Heidi cowered in fear, and a tear rolled from her eyes. Susan took her hand and gave it a squeeze.
"Oh Heidi, I'm not angry at you, but at that ... idiot there." she said pointing at the photo in Kai's hands.
Lis began telling the story from an end. Beginning way back with things Sandra and Kai had heard before; their suspicion that David was doing things he should not have been able to. She told the story of the derelict powerhouse where the withered fronds had hidden them while they watched Torben and David brewing up the strange potions. She told of Helge's part in their adventure and the happenings at Unicorn farm. Then Tue took over;  telling abut their useless tracking of Torben at the railway station. and adding more details to the strange Christmas party at the Unicorn farm. "I wonder why nothing came off it," Tue said. "I think personally that it was some kind of alibi and test run. Maybe those fumes installed some false memories in the rest of the teachers"
Then Susan rose, opened her folder and told about Stellan and his photos, "... and then Percy warned me, that he was a bad man!"
"Percy?" Sandra asked, "who is he?"
"Percy is not a he, she's a she. Her real name is Persephone, and she is a ghost in my home."
"Persephone? A girl, a bit taller than you. Long, flowing hair, big eyes, rather shy?"  Susan nodded, and Sandra went on. "I once knew a girl like that. And Persephone is not exactly a common name. It could very well be the same girl. She was my friend for a time, we lived next to one another, then she moved to your town. We wrote letters at least once a week, and she even visited me a couple of times. I think she was a witch as well, although we didn't  speak about it. Then one day my letters returned, unopened. I never found out what happened."
Susan looked up: "She told me, her mother would not answer her questions about that man, whom she - the mother - called very bad. Now I'm speculating. Maybe that man killed Percy ...  I don't think she realized she was dead until long after the fact. And her mother did not answer, because she never heard her questions at all. I don't know anything, but it fits."
"Everything fits if you try hard enough. Could you please go home and persuade Percy to come here tonight?" Sandra asked.
"Now?" Susan asked. "But ... I mean ...  my parents. What if they're at home? They are going to ask a zillion questions if I suddenly come home, and I have to go back to the Unicorn Farm to use the portal."
"Tue can 'port with you there and go with you home as well." Kai said. Then he can go and see if they're at home or not. Your parents are much more apt to remember Lis or Heidi, than Tue, girls' parents are just that way until the girls get old enough for boyfriends."

Words for Wednesday -- 20 february - Unicorn Farm 26

The prompts for March are provided by Delores at Mumblings. She has been treating us to a bunch of opposites this time.

1. blasted,
2. withered,
3. derelict,
4. broken,
5. chained,
6. ground

and/or

1. fresh,
2. growing,
3. alive,
4. active,
5. hope,
6. dreams.

Once again I wrote a small chapter from my magical autobiography. I did not use any of the words as far as I know. Maybe a new chapter will surface tomorrow. This has happened before.

During the break where all were treated to hot cocoa and steaming buns, Susan tried to keep an eye on David. He seemed quite normal, and Torben was also back to his cordial self. After the break all the teams met in the barn for a session on languages. "Icelandic," Gilvi began, "is alike to all the other Nordic languages. This makes it possible to guess the meaning of many of the words. But the grammar is different enough to make it necessary for you to use your brain. Today you'll have to learn how to count. It will be easy for most of you. Sorry Marja, Aamu, Jouka, Nata, and  Josta. You'll have to work a bit harder."
Gilvi's wand swished rhythmically, and words sprang from the tip, soared over his head and fastened themselves to the blackboard:
Einn - tveir - þrír - fjórir - fimm - sex - sjö - átta - níu - tíu - ellefu - tólf - þrettán - fjórtán - fimmtán - sextán - sautján - átján - nítján - tuttugu.
It was a challenge, and soon all the apprentices knew how to count to twenty in Icelandic.
"And why do you have to learn Icelandic?" Gilvi asked. "Because it is the language Thora and I speak?" he asked with a twinkle; and many of the apprentices laughed. "No, of course not. Icelandic is the key to all other Nordic languages, and furthermore one of many vehicles of magic. Latin is another one, ancient Greek, Church Slavonic, Pali or Sanskrit or even Pig Latin or music are some of the other. It is mostly dependent on the tradition in the land you come from. I'm sure Taavi and Tähti can - and do - cast spells in Finnish as well. But we have decided to go with Icelandic."

Susan began thinking. She had always felt attracted to languages like Pig Latin and Robber's Language (Røversprog) She remembered how angry Linda had been when Susan and one of Linda's classmates spent days learning Røversprog and talking faster and faster with one another.
"Susan!" Gilvi's voice woke her from her reveries. "What are you thinking of?"
"Røversprog," she answered. "I became quite good at it some years ago. Would that really be useful for casting of spells?" she asked.
"Yes it would." Gilvi answered soberly. "But before you consider casting and making your own spells, I'd suggest that you learn how to cast the basic ones properly. What was the words for today's snow magic, and how do you explain their meaning?"
Susan had listened closely in the morning, she wanted to learn everything, and she had a good memory for words. "The first half was the spell: 'Létt eins og snjór'," she answered; pronouncing the Icelandic syllables slowly and distinctly. "And this means 'light as snow', thus expressing my wish to flow and soar through the air, like a snowflake driven by the wind. To do this, I have to angle my wand downwards, so that the small jet of air is carrying me upwards. If I happen to point it upwards, I'll fall down, maybe hurting myself. The other half of the snow magic was the heating of the air just around me ..."
"Stop!" Gilvi said. "I am convinced. Would you please pay as good attention always!"
"Yes," Susan said. "I will."


The short winter days were not long enough to allow full program, everybody had to be home by nightfall.
Susan and Heidi left The Farm a bit late. They crossed the magical line of trees, and ran over snowclad fields. Tue and Lis waited for them at the barrier at the end of the road. As they caught up with them, Heidi came up to walk besides Susan instead of following behind her.
"Did you notice David and Torben today?" Susan asked.
"Yes, they seemed totally normal to me. Maybe even too normal. It was a bit spooky to see them smile and eat buns just like the rest of us."
"Yes. I see what you mean. But villains can't just be villainous all the time, I think," Susan said. "My granny once lived in a boarding house where she befriended a criminal master mind - she did not know he was a criminal of course. She always told us that he was such a fine man, a real gentleman. And she was shocked when he was arrested."
"Sounds right." Tue said. "Villains do not go around laughing an evil laughter all day, like in the comics. They would be found out far too easy at that."
They walked through the falling darkness and reached the yellow house just as the street-lamps lit. They happily shed all their coats and mufflers and gathered round the table.
  
"I'd like to go to that French holiday resort sometime," Susan said. "It sounds as if it is a place to relax among fellow wizards."
"Didn't you say that resorts like that one were artificial and no fun, when we talked about it this morning?" Heidi asked.
"Maybe I did," Susan said, "but then again, it could be nice. I'd like to pat a shark."
"It sounds like a nice enough place," Kai said dreamily. "Maybe we could go there some time?"
"Mum," Heidi said. " I think dad and Susan have been hypnotized or something. That awful place! This morning they did not want to go."
"Out of the mouth of infants!" Sandra burst out. "Suggestive paper I dare bet." Let me have it. 

Verdensfrødagen -- World Frog Day

Uglemor vidste ikke at der fandtes en verdensfrødag. 

Det skal da fejres.

-- 🐸 --

MotherOwl did not know that such a thing as a World Frog Day existed. 

We have to celebrate!

Messymimi

Poetry Monday :: Blessings

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey is taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Blessing.
I looked at a page, where you can find rhymes, and the rhyme words for blessing led me astray. Here goes. 

-- ✋-- 

Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey skiftes til at opkaste et tema til et mandagsdigt. Dagens tema er velsignelser / fordele / goder / positive ting. Denne gang er det ikke blevet til noget digt på dansk. Det kan være, det kommer senere.

-- ✋-- 

Remember to count all your blessings,
Not your hurts, all your bad times, and fears
Forget all the bad persons messing
with everything you hold dear.

Remember to count all your blessings.
Ev'ry one of them, even the small.
All the babies you've been caressing
even though they're big now and tall.

Remember to count all your blessings!
It is hard, but I'm trying my best
to remember the good, and expressing
the need of forgetting the rest.

Remember to count all your blessings.
You must use all your fingers ... and toes. 
If you try, I'm sure, although guessing,
That you will never even get close

Remember to count all your blessings.
Do you really remember them all?
Excuse me if I am digressing.
Most are surely beyond your recall.

Quest Helper in WoW

Earlier I have been agonizing over Blizzard's lack of writing skills. Today I met up with another example. Darnassus, daily cooking: Remembering the ancestors.

(This screenie is taking with my main (level 114) looking at the Quest - I did not take a screenie first time around, as I thought it was a straightforward Quest)

As I always do, when meeting a new to me Quest, I read the Quest description carefully before accepting.  I went to the Temple of the Moon, got the rice cakes, and then I went back to the trainer. Qua Quest objectives: "Collect the blessed rice cakes from the Temple of the Moon."

He did not want to talk to me. The text reads: "... presenting them to the ancestors". Well yes, I thought that was your job, as it is not part of the objectives. But if I should do that part as well, a pointer to where the ancestors want their cakes would have been much appreciated.

Nothing to it but to open Quest-helper-cum-map.

Oh - there's a golden ❔  up there!

I've never been up there before.Only passing on my way in and out of the Capital.

" ... the shrine the trainer mentioned." Oh, no, he did not mention any shrine.

Does it hurt to write a Quest text in a way that I can do the Quest without having to resort to using Quest-helper?

Køreplans-kaos - næste afsnit

A new chapter in the continuing story of missing bus timetables and service"improvements". 

-- 🚌 --

     I går kom så vores lokalavis med dette indlæg fra Movia. Det er meget langt fra den virkelighed, jeg oplever.

    Jeg oplever frustrerede og forvirrede passagerer, der spørger en flink, men fortravlet buschauffør om noget, han ikke kan svare på. De har nemlig heller ikke køreplaner i bussen! Jeg oplever turister, der ikke kan forstå, at de er nødt til at downloade "Rejseplanen" for at finde rundt - og alle turister erå heller ikke bevæbnede med smartphones; SMS-tjenesterne kræver en dansk mobiludbyder!
     Jeg oplever børn, der ikke kan finde ud af at relatere stoppestedets mangelfulde oplysninger til deres mobilers skærme og tilbage til virkeligheden igen. Jeg oplever folk, der ikke længere bevæger sig uden for deres vante baner. Ældre, der bliver mere begrænsede, unge, der ikke tager i byen, let handicappede, der ikke længere tør tage bussen, fordi de er bange for ikke at kunne klare sig selv.

      Det kan godt være at det digitale øjebliksbillede er nok, hvis man bor i en større by med liveopdaterede skærme ved stoppestederne og ikke mindst busser hvert 5. minut og natten igennem. Men her ude på landet, hvor der ofte kun går en bus i timen, og ikke alle busser går hver dag, har vi brug for faste tider, trykte køreplaner og ordentlig oplysning.  Vi har brug for at vide, om bussen stadig går om 4 timer, om den kører, når vi vil hjem, om tiderne er anderledes efter 6 om aftenen, eller om lørdagen, eller et af de mange andre spørgsmål, som kun en trykt køreplan kan give et let og overskueligt svar på.
     Der er bred enighed om at Movia virkelig har gjort i nælderne denne gang.

Words for Wednesday -- 13 March -- Unicorn Farm 25

The prompts for March are provided by Delores at Mumblings. She has been treating us to a slew of rhyming words.
 
1. despair 
2. frizzy hair 
3. hot air 
4. impair 
5. repair 
6. midair
   
 This was exactly what was needed to bring my writing mojo back again. Thank you. 

Once again I wrote a small chapter from my magical autobiography. I did not use the words in the
order they were given, neither did I use them in the exact form. But they fit. 
The story continues almost where it left off last.  

Susan was about to despair. The snow was still swirling, whirling and dancing around her. She was suspended mid-air by ice rings, produced by Gilvi's magic and the snow was relentlessly whipping her all over. All her futile spells had only made the ice rings become thigther and more solid and made her hair go frizzy and wild, impairing her vision and adding to the whipping sensations. She was cold, not uncomfortably so, her feeble warming spell saw to that, but she felt the cold from the many small pin points where snowflakes brushed and melted against her skin.
All of a sudden it dawned upon her; She was trying too hard. She relaxed, trying to imagine a small jet of hot air emerging from the tip of her wand, warming her from top to toe, melting the ice rings and letting her free to move again. She looked down through hair and swirling snowflakes, saw green-white swirls beginning to form at the tip of the wand. Smiling she cheered them on, and they grew, caressing her arms, tingeing the swirling snow a gentle green, tickling her just a little bit. And first slowly then faster and faster the ice rings melted. Susan pointed her wand downwards, as she had been told to do, and descended, more like a snowflake dancing and swirling than like a human child.
Susan was comfortably hot now in the snow, she danced with the snowflakes in the meadow, over the fences and into the small copse of rowans near the school. This was snow magic! She had been told not to overdo her first trip, and she softly returned and came to rest near the big bales of straw on the other side of the barn. Some of the apprentices already stood there, only clad in the striped shirts or trousers and green tunics. All had small threads of lightly tinged snowflakes swirling from their wands, encasing them and keeping them warm. It was an eerie and wonderful sight. 
She saw a silver-white shower of snow coming at her over the bales, and My, the slim Norwegian girl, softly descended beside her. They smiled at one another, but kept quiet. Shortly after Rósa landed in a shower of golden snowflakes, and in a massive gust of bluish purple snow Terje alighted beside them. He was not the last one. For once Anna was the last. Her reddish snow was the most violently coloured of all, and she looked very tired. Martine expanded her swirls to encompass Anna as well, as her reddish swirls sputtered and died off. "I think you overdid it." Martine said. "Did you not hear Gilvi's warning?" Anna looked embarrassed, but was spared the pain of answering as Gilvi came up to them, pointing his wand at them. 
"That was impressing!" Gilvi's voice rang out. "You all did very well. Now get inside, there's hot cocoa and steaming buns for everybody." As an afterthought he added, "And no panic, Helge, I'll repair that fence!" Helge looked at him, rubbing his backside with a lopsided smile. 

Håb -- Hope

     I går kiggede Uglemor på sine laurbær der overvintrer på badeværelset og opdagede at der var skjoldlus igen-igen. Senere, medens hun skrubbede bladene med den lyserøde tandbørste, opdagede hun noget meget bedre - nye skud!
     Der er forår på vej!

-- 🌱 --

Yesterday MotherOwl looked at the bay laurel wintering in our bathroom. She discovered that the poor plant once again is beset by wax scales.
Later, while using the pink toothbrush, MotherOwl found something much better on the laurel. New shoots!
Spring will come!

Poetry Monday :: Music

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey is taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Music. This time as well I have a drawing (yes, I posted it before, but it fits today) and an ELFJE:

-- 🎶 -- 

Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey  skiftes til at opkaste et tema til et mandagsdigt. Dagens tema er musik. Jeg fandt både en tegning som vi godt nok har set før, men som passede til temaet, og så et ELFJE.

-- 🎶 -- 

Music.                                                                                                                                             Musik.
Just notes,                                                                                                                              Bare noder -
Eight little notes.                                                                                                             Otte små noder -
But when they combine:                                                                                      Men sammen skaber de
Magic!                                                                                                                                             Magi!

Nye tider - en tur med bussen - 3. og sidste opdatering

A fictional, but not unrealistic story about what could happen with the "service improvement" on the bus front. Only in Danish, sorry.

-- 🚌 --

Status:
     Det er åbenbart ikke meningen at vi skal kunne bo på landet og ikke have en bil.
     Siden jeg for godt 22 år siden flyttede på landet, har jeg kæmpet for at overbevise familie, naboer, venner og bekendte om at man godt kunne bo på landet uden at have bil.

• Jeg kæmpede, da de smarte køreplanshæfter udgik i '14
• Jeg kæmpede, da indførelsen af Rejsekortet og udfasningen af klippekort i 2015 fik prisen på vores korte rejser til at stige til det dobbelte.
• Jeg kæmpede, da det nye, uretfærdige Takstzone Sjælland fik prisen på vores lange rejser til at stige med godt 30 % i 2017.
• Jeg kæmpede videre, da Rejseplanen gik fra uduelig til næsten ubrugelig også i 2017.

     Men med denne her "serviceforbedring" i 2018-19 føler jeg at jeg har tabt kampen. Gudskelov at jeg stadig kan cykle.

-- 🚌 --

8. marts -  Serviceforbedringen af 8. december 2018
Dette er ikke en sand historie, men helt realistisk efter "serviceforbedringen". 

Uglemor tager til loppemarked ude ved stranden sent lørdag formiddag. Det har hun ikke gjort før, men en gang skal jo være den første. Og Uglemor elsker loppemarkeder. Hun tager selvfølgelig bussen, for det er for langt og især for farligt på cykel, og bussen går næsten lige til døren.
    Hun kommer frem, og tjekker stoppestedet, for at se, hvornår bussen går hjem igen. Nåh, nej det kunne man jo ikke. Vi er på landet, og de digitale oplysningstavler er ikke nået herud endnu. Uglemor har for en gangs skyld ikke køreplanerne med, A4 mappen med dem i ligger hjemme på skrivebordet - øv! I dagens anledning ofrer Uglemor en SMS på sagen, og får at vide, at næste bus går 21 minutter over. Det er om knap 20 minutter, så det går ikke. Det er for kort tid. Uglemor ved jo godt, at bussen kører en gang i timen og tænker, at en time og 20 minutter ikke er for meget til det her marked.

     Der er mange mennesker, mange stande med spændende ting, og Uglemor får efterhånden fyldt rygsækken og en pose eller to med fine fund. Kvart over løsriver hun sig fra en samtale med en veninde og haster ned gennem boderne. Hun er næsten fremme ved stoppestedet, da bussen kører. 17 minutter over. Det var jo den ordinære afgangstid, og den Uglemor slog op for en god time siden, var forsinket på grund af et eller andet ved stranden. Det sker ofte for denne linje om sommeren.
     Uglemor vender tilbage til markedet, efterhånden træt og sulten. Markedet lukker, men på vejen ud møder Uglemor et par venner, hun ikke har set længe, og de sætter sig godt tilrette på en nærliggende café med kaffe og kager. En lille time går heldigvis hurtigt i hyggeligt selskab, og deres lille pige er virkelig charmerende.
     Uglemor går ned til stoppestedet i god tid denne gang, men der kommer ikke nogen bus. Til sidst sender hun en SMS igen. Næste bus: 05.47 mandag morgen!
     Valget står nu mellem en mindst 6 km lang vandretur eller en taxa hjem.

     Dette eller noget lignende er allerede sket flere gange, og det skal nok ikke ske så mange gange endnu, før Uglemor begynder at overveje om vi kan spænde livremmen så meget ind, at vi har råd til en bil.

-- 🚌 --

10. marts - opdatering
Så skete det igen! Jeg tog på indkøb søndag formiddag, vi havde nemlig glemt noget meget vigtigt. Men jeg havde glemt mine udskrifter (en tilbudsmappe i A4 størrelse). Jeg skulle af, inden vi nåede helt ind i byen, så et par ærinder og så hjem fra et andet stoppested.
Bussen kører to gange om hverdagen, men kun én om søndagen. Hvilken af dem er det nu, der kører hjem om søndagen? Det havde jeg glemt.
Jeg spurgte derfor chaufføren, om han havde fået de trykte køreplaner, DOT har lovet os. Nej, det havde han ikke. "Hvornår skal du tilbage igen?" var mit næste spørgsmål. "Jeg skal videre ad en anden rute," var hans svar.
SMS? Nej, man skal kende stoppestedets nummer. Og det kan man jo ikke se når man netop ikke står ved stoppestedet.
Der var ikke strøm på min mobil til at hænge i "Du er nu nummer ... 6 .. i køen".

Efter nogen hovedregning og omtanke kom jeg frem til et tidspunkt, der heldigvis for mig var det rigtige. Men det er ikke den slags, man har lyst til meget af.

-- 🚌 --

24. marts - 2. opdatering
DOT er vel nok morsomme i dag.

Ja, vi tjekker da lige den køreplan, der ikke er der.

-- 🚌 --

29. marts  - 3. og sidste opdatering
Nu giver jeg op. Jeg har nu fundet ud af, at der i stedet for køreplaner vil komme intervaller. Altså "Mellem 8.00 og 16.00 kører bussen hver 5. minut" eller hvad der nu måtte være relevant.
Her hos mig vil det faktisk være værre end ingenting, for sidste bus går nøjagtigt 1 minut over 16. Den næste går mandag morgen 5.30. Man kunne så løbe ud til hovedvejen og nå bussen dér 16.13. Det kræver at man er hurtig på tasterne og ret hurtig til at finde den rette vej. Den næste bus derfra går 17.13.

-- 🚌 --

8. april - Storkøbenhavnsk opdatering
I går var jeg i Storkøbenhavn. Ikke inde i centrum, bare ved Femvejen. Der var togbusser, så derfor tog vi en vej, vi ikke plejer at tage. Vi skulle ankomme med 179 til Femvejen 10.47. Vi var lidt forsinkede. Vi skulle videre med 185 fra samme stoppested 10.53 - altså 6 minutter senere end planlagt ankomst. Der stod en dame og ventede på den samme bus. Hun havde ventet fra godt 5 minutter før planlagt afgang. Nu var klokken efterhånden blevet 10.56.

På stoppestedet, som var et af dem med liveopdaterede countdownskærme, stod med store, digitale bogstaver: Næste bus 179 om 55, 54, 53, 52, 51 minutter.
Så kom linje 185, og vi tog med den.

Liveopdatering?
Fra det stoppested kørte ifølge mine papirudskrifter:

•  179 en gang i timen -  53.
•  169 en gang i timen - 53
• 185 to gange i timen - 23 og 53

Når klokken så er 10.57 er det da indlysende at næste bus må være linje 179 klokken 11.53!
Heldigvis var det helt forkert. Linje 185 afgik (forsinket) 10.57, Og jeg går ud fra, at den også afgik 11.23 eller deromkring, og at både 169 og 179 afgik igen 11.53.

Er det ikke netop det, Movia siger:

"Vi ved fra kundeundersøgelser, at pålidelig og brugbar information om køreplaner, og hvornår busser og tog faktisk kører, er vigtigt for kunderne. Med liveopdateret trafikinformation kan vi give kunderne her og nu information om, hvornår bussen ankommer til stoppestedet – også hvis den bliver forsinket."

"Movia ønsker at give kunderne den mest præcise og sammenhængende trafikinformation. Vi har gode digitale produkter, som kunderne allerede kender og bruger i stor stil. F.eks. SMS 1250, DOTs hjemmeside og Rejseplanens app. Der hvor bussen kører tit er der count down skærme, hvor man kan se liveopdaterede ankomsttider." (Begge citater fra https://dinoffentligetransport.dk/trafikinfo/her-og-nu/stoppested/)

Det var da godt, at jeg havde medbragt alle mine flagrende papirudskrifter, og at vi troede mere på en dame ved stoppestedet end på busstoppestedets "liveopdateringer".

Dementi

 Mine gode nyheder den 1. marts holder desværre ikke. Det er IKKE køreplanerne, der kommer tilbage på busstoppestederne, kun ruteplanerne.

-- 🚌 --

Unfortunately my good news from March 1 were not true. It is only the plans over busstops that are returning, not the time tables. 

Det her vil ikke ske igen. -- 😌 --  This won't will happen again.

???

BAH!