Sunday Selection

On the apple tree Pirate loved, we had very dew apples. First I saw only one then later on we found three more. Tw were rotten, Pirate ate the last one. Then this morning I looked out from our bedroom window and saw a red apple on that tree. I went there, fully expecting either yet another rotten apple or it to be places some hard to reach place. But no - I stretched out my hand and picked the apple for Pirate to eat. It had eluded us all for several days of looking for apples.

And I'm suresome ORIENT RED - the Colour of the Month - is t be found in the photo of the elusive apple.

Efterårsregn ~ Autumn Rain ~ Deszcz jesienny

Vejret i dag fik mig til at tænke på endnu et digt fra min studietid, Deszcz jesienny af Leopold Staff     Det er et meget billedskabende vers, hvor man i rytmen og ordene hører regnen slå mod ruderne.
     Og det er kun enmeget lille bid af et meget langt digt.
      Først på polsk - prøv at læse det bare for lydene - og så på engelsk og dansk. Jeg regner ikke mig selv for at være på niveau med Leopold Staff eller nogle af de andre poeter fra Młoda Polska, jeg gør mit bedste, men det er bare så meget bedre på polsk.

~ 💧 ~

The weather today made me think of another poem from my student days, Deszcz jesienny by Leopold Staff. It's a very evocative verse where you through the rhythm and the words hear the rain hitting the windows.

And it's only a small part of a very long poem.

First in Polish - try to read it just for the sounds - and then in English and Danish. I don't consider myself to be on the level of Leopold Staff or any of the other Młoda Polska poets, I do my best, but it's just so much better in Polish.

~ 💧 ~

O szyby deszcz dzwoni, deszcz dzwoni jesienny
I pluszcze jednaki, miarowy, niezmienny,
Dżdżu krople padają i tłuką w me okno...
Jęk szklany... płacz szklany... a szyby w mgle mokną
I światła szarego blask sączy się senny...
O szyby deszcz dzwoni, deszcz dzwoni jesienny...

~ 💧 ~

Rain rings against the windows, the autumn rain rings,
And splashes forever, unending, unchanging,
Raindrops fall and splash on my window ...
Glass moaning ... glass crying ...the windows wet with mist
And the grey light seeping drowsily through ...
Rain rings against the windows, the autumn rain rings ...

~ 💧 ~

Regnen rinder ad ruden, efterårsregnen rinder,
og plasker bestandigt, uforandret, uophørligt,
Dråber dunker mod ruden og smadres og løber ...
Glasset stønner ... glasset græder ... vinduerne er våde af tåge
Og det grå lys siver døsigt igennem ...
Regnen rinder ad ruden, efterårsregnen rinder ...

~ 💧 ~

A photo of the Autumn rain   ~ 💧 ~  Et foto af efterårsregnen ~ 💧 ~ Zdjęcie deszczu jesiennego

Poetry Monday :: Family

Every Monday is Poetry Monday. Mimi of Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over the hosting duties, mostly the supplying of the prompts - only temporarily we hope - while Diane at On the Border is taking a break for health reasons.

  I have something to ask of you: If you read this and the poetry of others via the links, would you please leave a comment.
  Half - if not more - the fun of these challenges is receiving the responses of others.

Today's topic is Family. But no, I'm not going to write a poem about Family in the normal meaning of the word, what about a work-family instead?

This poem needs a long preamble and some explanation ... bear with me.

  --  --  --  --

Saturday I went shopping as almost every day. In Helsinge we have a Polish bakery, and many years ago MotherOwl studied Polish at the University of Copenhagen.

I do not speak Polish any more, much to my frustration, because, bugger it, I still understand almost every word the baker and his customers say whenever they speak Polish. 

... well, back to the story and the poem. Saturday, as I entered the bakery, I smiled broadly, and pulled out my phone - I had forgotten my camera at home, double bugger, as the camera in my pone is lousy beyond measure.

Lousy photo - gets no better

... Anyway, as I shot a picture of the bags that had made me laugh, the baker said: "They contain bread crumbs."

I answered: "Yes, I know."

As the poor baker looked totally confused, I gave him a longish explanation, in Danish, English and a little Polish, the gist of which was:

Many years ago, as I studied Polish, we read a poem about six female cooks. The sixth was sour like a lemon (Danish and Polish both use vinegar here), and always scolded the other five.

I did not remember all the matters she went on about, but the fifth cook had trouble because of bułka tarta - exactly what was written on those bags.

Back in those days when I studied Polish, the internet was not a thing, so, not understanding bułka tarta I grasped my large dictionary:
Bułka was easy enough: It simply means Bun.
But tarta? I found out it was the passive adjectival participle of the imperfective verb "trzeć" (yes I did understand those fancy words - still do) which means "to make into small pieces, grate or shred". Anyhow, I was still mystified, Whatever happened to that poor bun, and why?

Of course I was given this exact sentence to read aloud and translate the next day.

I interpreted this expression as if the bun got pulled into small pieces by cook # 5 and 6. The other students and the teacher laughed at me, and told me that I should have gone for the "grated" meaning, and gone from grated bun to breadcrumbs. Totally obvious - only not to me 🙂

As I told all this to the baker, he laughed as well, and I promised to bring him the poem, which he did not know.

I have published the poem about the six cooks on my blog before (here), but only with a Danish translation. This time I try my luck in English.

Sześć kucharek
Wanda Chotomska

Było sobie sześć kucharek:
Jedna chuda jak sucharek,
jak bułeczka pulchna druga,
trzecia jak makaron długa,
czwarta miała mleczną cerę
i lubiła kluski z serem,
piąta niby pączek tłusta
i jak ocet kwaśna szósta.
Pięć kucharek w mlecznym barze
miało przez nią kwaśne twarze,
bo nic nigdy nie robiła,
tylko ciągle się kłóciła:
z tą najpierwszą o kakao,
co na blachę wykipiało,
a z tą drugą - o talerze
i o każdą dziurkę w serze,
o ryż - z trzecią, o sól - z czwartą,
z piątą zaś - o bułkę tartą...

My best try in English

Once upon a time there were six cooks,
The first one dry, thin as a rusk,
the second one as plump as any bun,
and the third like a spaghetti long.
The fourth one had a milky face,
and ate her food with cheeses mixed.
The fifth was sweet like doughnut glaze,
but sour as vinegar the sixth.
The five cooks in the milk bar old,
because of her had sour looks,
for never did she ever cook,
and always did she brawl and scold.
With the first one over the cocoa,
which was spilled onto the stove,
With the second over the plates
and every hole in all the cheese,
with the third over rice, with the fourth over salt,
With the fifth however over breadcrumbs ...

Not a very brilliant poem, I used my artistic freedom here and there, but I still could not make those last lines to my liking, sorry.

--  --  --  --  --  --

Next Monday for Intention I have every intention of doing better ;)

Sunday Selection, Colour24 & Bathroom EntomologySøndagsbilleder, Månedens farve & Badeværelsesentomologi

Først - for alle, der ikke vil se billeder af edderkopper og insekter, kommer månedens farve

For everybody not wanting to see spiders ... Colour of the Month.

Today we ate the very first bite of the very first ripe jalapeño.

-- 🌶 --

I dag spiste vi den første bid af den første modne jalapeño.

-- ENTOMOLOGY -- ENTOMOLOGI --

  I'm sorry, but entomology is not the study of ents - even if this would be a subject I would really like to study, I doubt even a single ent would fit into our tiny bathroom. Entomology is - as most of you probably know - the study of insects, spiders and such - in short bugology.

-- 🪲 -- 🕷 --

     Entomologi er desværre ikke ente-studier. Selvom det er en slags studier jeg gerne ville bedrive, tvivler jeg på at der ville være plads til bare en enkelt, lillebitte ente på vores ikke særligt store badeværelse.
     Nej, entomologi er - som de fleste sikkert ved - studiet af insekter, edderkopper og den slags.

-- 🕷 -- 🕸 -- 🕷 --

Some entomologic photos from our bathroom - no, I do not know why all bugs congregate there.

-- 🕷 -- 🪲 --

     Her er et par entomologiske billeder fra badeværelset. Gad vide hvorfor alle insekter og edderkopper godt kan lide at være der?

A pretty moth, probably Common carpet --  🦋  -- En fin natsværmer, nok en Almindelig bladmåler.

A lady Marsh cranefly, notice the pointy end -- 🪰 --  et hun-stankelben, det kan man se på den spidse ende.

And finally another spider. It is the same species as my itsy bitsy spider - a Walnut orb spider - but much smaller, probably a male one, and with distinctly hairy black and white banded legs.

-- 🕷 -- 🕸 -- 🕷 --

Og til sidst endu en edderkop. Den er af samme art som Lille Peter, en flad hjulspinder, men meget minder, så det er nok en han, og med meget fint stribede og behårede ben.

 -- 🕸 --

Ekstra, her til morgen var der denne edderkop på badeværeslet. Den tilhører helt sikkert slægten Halloween-edderkopper. Gad vide, hvor den er kommet fra.

-- 🕷 -- 🕸 -- 🕷 --

And this morning, I found this pretty specimen on the sink. It belongs to the Halloween spiders, I'm sure, and I wonder, how it got there, and where it has been hiding.

Words for Wednesday ~ Updated & IWSG

Once again I'm only bringing the prompts, but there's all of today yo catch up, I hope to make it -- I have a half-baked idea.
And I caught up! A real life tale again, and a recent one too.

- - A - - B - - C - - 

The Word for Wednesday challenge started a long time ago. Now it has turned into a movable feast with Elephant's Child as our coordinator; and the Words are provided by a number of people.
The prompts for September are provided by River @ Drifting through Life.

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.

This week's prompts are:
On the run
Belong
Street
Breakfast
Tent
     and this image: taken by "Genius" and allowed by Val.

The streets were deserted, a lonely car made its way home, hurrying to make it before the expected downpour. Even a dog on the run would have given up running. The clouds were dark and hung low, not a star could be seen and the thunder rolled ominously from afar. Already well before midnight the first heavy drops fell, splattering on the deserted tiles and tarmac. By 3 am the thunder was rolling in earnest, and lightening, thunder and rain did not let up until we sat at the breakfast table. The thunderstorm belonged to a larger frontal system passing our small country from the south to the north.

We were right under its path and the circuit breaker kept activating almost as fast as we reset it. In the end we gave up, and just stayed in our beds in the dark, that was continually sundered  up by bright lightening. It was kind of fun, because there was no wind at all, the curtains hung still, like a large tent, and the giant drops fell vertically, only to splatter on the window sill and send small drops all the way into my bed and onto my toes, until I drew the curtains all the way. 

Later in the morning I spoke with the Walrus, who is still living with us, and is over 95 years old, and he also never experienced a thunderstorm like this one.

Map from lightening.org, registering - I think - only cloud-to-earth-lightening strikes, and about half were cloud-to-cloud during this particular thunderstorm.

- - A - - B - - C - - 

Today is also the first Wednesday of the month. Time for the monthly Question from the Insecure Writers' Support Group

September 4 question - Since it's back to school time, let's talk English class. What's a writing rule you learned in school that messed you up as a writer?

My answer: As English is my second language, and schooling in my school-time was rather lax, I never learned any rules for written English. Only as I reached secondary school did I receive any formal grammar and language education in English. As our teacher was old fashioned, formal and stiff, I chafed as I learned. And as she was not a stickler for grammar, but for Freudian interpretation of texts, I did not really learn that much.
I learned much more by reading, by listening to music and by watching TV, which is not dubbed in Denmark. And I think these media broke any and all rules.

My teacher in Danish taught us to structure our texts using the simple: introduction, main body with sub-themes, and conclusion structure. We had to hand in the written work with this structure written at the very beginning. I found this hard to do until she told me to leave a blank half page for the structure, then first write the text, then split it up into the relevant sections, and then see if any of these needed thinning or fleshing out. It felt like cheating, but actually it did work ;)  I have kept very much to this model whenever I need to write a structured text.

Poetry Monday :: Height ~ a Non-Poem

Yesterday was once again crazy busy. And when finally I sat myself down at the computer, I opened all the new posts according to my blogroll. Oops big mistake, as I have a hard time writing a poem after having read the contributions of others's.

I wrote a comment at Mimi's blog - after I wrote it, it hit me that it was almost a poem, and I said so in a comment to my first comment -- meaning to post it here as well. But upon publishing this second comment, comment #1 disappeared, which made me write a third comment hoping it was just eaten by the spam monster, and had not disappeared forever in the depths of the 'web.  ... confused yet?

This morning my first comment -- that one I think was in some way a look-alike poem - had returned, and the other two were there as well -- thanks Mimi for rescuing my comment from the jaws of the spam monster. Now I can cite it here as my Poetry Monday contribution, but a day late.



Funny poems - I love them, but now I am undone,
I read your poems before writing my own,
which is the height of stupidity -
at least it seems like that to me.


--  --  --  --
Next Monday: Family.

Colour24 September ~ Orient Red

Thank you, River, for asking. The colour for September is:

-- 🎨 --

River spurgte om jeg ikke havde nogen farve for september, jamen det har jeg da:

Og jeg brugte den i mine billeder i går. Jeg gentager.

-- 🎨 --

And I even used it in one of my Sunday Selections photos. Repeated here.


Ude i domen var der knækket en snor, og det havde hevet et par grene af en tomatplante, så nu plukker vi tomater inde i køkkenet

-- 🍅 --

A string broke in my greenhouse and severed a branch laden with tomatoes in different stages of ripeness. Now we can pick tomatoes in our kitchen.

Lots of Orient Red tomatoes.
Orientalsk rød passer på tomater.

Sunday Selections ~ Growing Things ~ Søndagsbilleder

No more spiders, but other creepie crawlies, and some who doesn't.

-- 🍅 🪰 🍑 --

Ikke flere edderkopper, men et par kriblekrabere og nogle der ikke krabler.

This one is not crawling anywhere, but can still sting. It sure liked some TLC, and rewarded us by flowering.

-- 🌵 --

Denne her krible-krabler ingen steder, men den kan altså godt stikke. Den kunne godt lide lidt kærlig pleje og belønner os med at blomstre.

Denne her stikker til gengæld ikke. Stankelben er faktisk pænt store, større end min husedderkop. Her fotograferet indefra, så den står skarpt mod den lyse himmel.

-- 🪰 --

This one does not sting. Marsh craneflies are large, larger even than my giant house spider. Here snapped from inside our living room, and a nice black contrast to the bright skies.

It's a male, females have pointy ends. Here with my wounded index finger for scale. Snapped from outside with cranefly and skies mirrored in our double layered windows.

-- 🪰 --

Det er et han-stankelben, hunner er spidse bagtil. Her med min forbrændte pegefinger til sammenligning. Både stankelben og himmel spejler sig i vores dobbelte vinduer.

Dammuslinger - de er til gengæld små. De skal ud og rense vores gadekær

-- 🐚 --

Duck mussels, these are small specimen, destined to clean the waters of our local pond.

 - - - o 0 o - - -

Ude i domen var der knækket en snor, og det havde hevet et par grene af en tomatplante, så nu plukker vi tomater inde i køkkenet

-- 🍅 --

A string broke in my greenhouse and severed a branch laden with tomatoes in different stages of ripeness. Now we can pick tomatoes in our kitchen.

And once again I'm making prunes from home grown plums

-- 🍑 --

Og nok engang laver jeg svesker af vore egne blommer.