lørdag den 27. juli 2019

Sommerferie -- Summer Holidays

Uglemor har ikke lyst til at sidde foran computeren, når der er Ugleunger der har sommerferie, blomster og bær i haven og lunt vand og is på stranden. 
Derfor holder Ugleboet sommerferie indtil videre. 
Måske kommer der et enlet indlæg eller to på en regnvejrsdag eller en sen aften. 
Men Uglemor vil kun love, at hun vender tilbage. 
Hav en god sommer indtil da.
MotherOwl do not want to sit in front of her montor when the Owlets are home from school, the garden (and surroundings) abounds in flowers, herbs and fruits, and the beach is calling with wonderful water and ice cream cones. 
Maybe I'll post now and then on a rainy day, or a late night, but I make no promises other than: I'll be back! 
Have a nice summer until then.


mandag den 22. juli 2019

Poetry Monday :: Things that cool you down

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Things that cool you down (courtesy of Delores). 

It's mostly my temper that needs cooling, as I love hot Summers' days.

A cup of tea cools me down, when my tempers are hot,
My husband he brews it, and he swings the pot.
A smile from my children, and maybe a hug
Will make me forget it, and just smile and shrug.

A shell and a book on a warm summers day
will make me as cool as a wellspring in May.
My garden in sunshine with birdsongs and  trees
Will cool me more surely than winter's cold breeze.


How to make a neat link in a comment:

 Go to this page and make a new post - easy, you do this often ;)

Write a relevent word: I choose "Link":

Mar the word, and choose Link in the menu bar: 

Copy the relevant link from somewhere (here from wikipedia on butterflies) and paste it in the empty box next to "Web  adress". Select OK or hit Enter
I use "Ctrl + C" to copy and "Ctrl + V" to paste.

Now your post looks like this:

Press HTML. Your post looks like this:
Mark the text - all of it - and copy (Ctrl + C).
- Press Compose again to make this look normal next time around.

7. Go to the other blog, or wherever you're writing something needing this link. Write your comment / post / whatever.
At the right place paste your link using "Ctrl + V".  It'll look like this:
 Choose "publish" and voila.

fredag den 19. juli 2019

Overflod af uld -- Lots of Wool

Mandag var Piraten og jeg ude for at købe uld. Måske fik vi en smule for meget med hjem?  Uldgarnet var gulnet af at have ligget i flere år. Det bliver spændende at se, om vi får det hvidt igen.

-- 🐑 --

Monday the Pirate and MotherOwl went shopping for wool. Maybe we went a bit overboard. The wool had become yellow from laying around for many years, let's see how, and if, we make it white again.

--- 🌨 ---

Her bliver det først vasket grundigt i badekarret.

-- 🐑 --

First a thorough washing in the bath tub.
Nej, så gult var det ikke. Vandværket havde haft problemer, og der var okker i vandet.
No, the wool was not this yellow. The colour is due to ochre from pipe repairs.

Så en skånsom centrifugering - ja, maskinen er næsten fuld.

-- 🐑 --

Then a gentle spinning; yes our washing machine is almost full.

Tørring på et stavær, Uglemor og Piraten lavede til formålet. Det er herligt at have træ osv. på lager.

-- 🐑 --

Drying on a rack the Pirate and MotherOwl made for this purpose. We're happy to have wook and spikes laying around.

Uglemor kunne naturligvis ikke lade være med at lege. Her har hun samlet alle havens farveplanter - og et par testere, til et forsøg. Dampet i toppen af den vidunderlige gryde - medens flere nøgler blev bejdset.

-- 🐑 --

MotherOwl would no be MotherOwl if she could refrain from playing. Here she raided her garden for all known dye plants, and some testers. The result were steamed in the top of the wonderful pot while more skeins were mordanted below.
Dagens skuffelse: Vild gulerod, der slet ikke farver ved kontatkfarvning.
Today's bad: QAL does not give any colour at all when contact dyeing.

Senere plukkede Uglemor og Piraten planter på en tur hjem fra byen, fra en lille tur rundt i vores landsby, og senest hentede vi tagrør nede på engen. De køler af nu ... det bliver spændende.
-- 🐑 --

 Later MotherOwl and the Pirate picked some flowers on their way home from shopping, and from a stroll through the village, and finally they picked reed flowers on the meadow.
More to come when they are cool enough to touch ...

onsdag den 17. juli 2019

Words for Wednesday - Easter Holiday 4

In June 2019 WiseWebWoman is providing the prompts. 

I continue the story where I left off yesterday.
I did not use all the words, in fact only two or three of them, but maybe, just maybe another chapter will pour from my holiday--infected brain. The prompts this week a photo and two times four words:



If any of you wonder - especially after checking up on Easter Fire in Wikipedia - No we do not celebrate Easter with fires in Denmark, Wikipedia is wrong there. We celebrate the birth of St. John the Baptist - the vigil that is - on June 23th. Only almost nobody knows that's what we're celebrating.

Josta reluctantly left the room, Kalle rose, cleared his throat and begun: "Ever since ... well forever, we have been celebrating the victory of Light over Darkness at Easter night. We make a great, big bonfire, the oldest among us recite an ancient text and light the fire with flint and tinder.  It has to be a new fire.
We all are solemn and just stand looking until the fire burns brightly. Then people start dancing and singing. Some leap through the fire, it is supposed to clean the jumper from evil, illnesses and such, almost everybody do it. Only not the very small or very old. I still remember being allowed to leap for the first time. It was great.
Standing in the fire is something for the young, foolhardy or brave. You really stand inside the fire, the sport is to get out before your spellpower gives in, else you get burned. No, Knud, no one ever died. some of the older witches and wizards stand by, ready to save your skin, if not your face."
"Let's go and read the poster," Marja said. "We'll learn no more from sitting here."

They poured into the barn, the other four teams were there as well. All milling around in front of the poster. Veronika found her sister, Fiona. Not a hard job as she had one leg in a cast and both arms in a sling. Veronika put an arm around Fiona's waist and gave it a squeeze. "Now, you're not doing any jumping this year are you?" "Not with these," Fiona answered with a wry grin, lifting her arms. "But maybe I could fly through the fire. Would that count, you think?" Fiona began giggling, and Veronika looked at the poster: Big letters stated:
 Easter Fire ~ Saturday
The poster was split in two. The left part said
Jump through the fire
- If you wish to jump through the Easter fire, you must sign your name here below. Apprentices under 12 years of age as of Easter Sunday need their parents' written approval.
The right half said almost the same. Only the age limit was higher. They needed to be 14 or more to stand in the fire without their parents' consent.

"You can't do it, thank God: I was almost certain you would." Veronika said in a lighter mood.
"I can." Susan said.
"But do you want to?" Knud asked. "I can even stand in the fire if I want to. But I don't know how to do it, or if I should do it at all."
"You do not need to make up your mind right now." It was Martine, the Japanese-looking Norwegian witch. "This poster will stay here until Friday when the last school bell chimes. If you need a permission, you can hand it to any of the professors."

"Oh, I hope I cam have Mum's permission to jump through the fire," Heidi said as she, My, Rosa and Kirstin sat in a sunny nook between two strawbales eating their lunch. "I've done it for three years already, but only at home."
My, a redhead and the smallest of all the apprentices, looked at her with envy. "My parents always say I'm too small."
"So do mine," Rosa said. "What about you, Kirstin? Are you allowed to jump through the fire?"
"I will this year. Mum and Dad said that after the 'Icelandic plague' as you call it, we all need cleansing in the Easter Fire."
"Great!" Rosa said. "I'm off to write to my parents, maybe they did nor think of it!"

tirsdag den 16. juli 2019

Words for Wednesday ... on a Tuesday - Easter Holiday 3

In June 2019 WiseWebWoman is providing the prompts.  

Better late than never ... and before the new Words for Wednesday are published tomorrow, I continue the story where I left off last Wednesday: the first Easter holiday at Unicorn farm, Studies in magic has been taking place all through Summer holidays, Autumn week, Christmas holidays and Spring week. The Easter Holiday "term" brings with it exams and tests and new subjects.  

This week's prompts are a picture of fire
and these two groups of 5 words each:

Gas Pump


Back on Unicorn Farm the green team met in their room, Hilde and Josta conspicuously absent. Thora came in with the two in tow. Wordlessly she pointed to the empty table in front and placed her coffee cup on the table. When everybody was seated she grasped her wand and still without a word turned to the blackboard where two 3D paintings of a hipppocampus emerged. One in their land form, and one in their aquatic form."Veronika," she snapped, and she looked up, clearly expecting an attack of some kind, "you asked, whether hippocampi normally had fish tails. As you all can see, their aquatic form do indeed have a fish tail. Now I'll have you all draw these two forms in your notebook, and write down the differences you see. You may add any observations you did today, while feeding the live specimens carrots, stroking, examining and not least riding them." she said with a furious glance at Hilde. All twelve heads bowed over notebooks; pencils, crayons, pens, and other writing utensils were busy at work.
Thora meanwhile stood at the blackboard, emitting a cold, an iceberg would have been proud of; normally she would have been passing around, looking over the shoulders of the apprentices, correcting a detail here, praising a perfect line here or a good turn of phrase there. The atmosphere in the classroom was so quiet, cool and fiercely concentrated, that they all jumped when the doorbell rang.
Torben came in, carrying an enormous square board with a big sheet of paper tacked to it.
Everybody looked at him. "We're having the traditional Easter Fire a week from now," he said, holding the board aloof. "Whomsoever wants to jump through the fire or stand in it, must write their names on this board which will be hung in the barn under the hayloft."
Susan, Knud, Terje and Veronika looked bewildered. In normal circumstances they would have been asking their neighbours what an Easter fire was, and why someone would want to jump through it or stand in it; but they dared not face Thora's wrath.
"Class dismissed! Hilde and Josta, you are in the cellar by two o'clock!" Thora said, turned around and left.

"What's an Easter fire, and why would anybody want to stay inside it?" It was Veronika who expressed the question burning in their minds. Hilde began giggling, then shut her mouth and left.
All the apprentices whose families were wizards and witches began explaining at once.
"Don't you know .." Kalle began
"We do it every year ..."  Marja said in a loud voice.
"It's a competition ..." Kirstin added.
"We celebrate the victory ..." Rosa said
"Stop it," Torben said. "Nobody's able to hear much less understand anything. You," he said pointing at Kalle, "you seem to know what you're talking about. You tell those of non-magic parentage what it's all about." Torben then hefted the sign and left. 

mandag den 15. juli 2019

Poetry Monday :: Notes

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Notes (courtesy of Jenny). 

It's Summer holidays in the Owlery and surroundings. We're busy doing nothing and everything. MotherOwl is also still busy gathering her notes for last Wednesday's chapter of Unicorn Farm ... still thinking, writing and deleting. If this was in the days gone by, my eraser would be worn down by now.  

It's Summer holidays.
All my notes have blown away.

Gardening notes,
Magical notes,
Musical notes,
Weaving notes ...

All my notes are blown away.
I hope they will be back some day.

♫ 🎶 ♬ ♬ ♫ 🎶 🎝 🎜 ♬ ♫ 🎶

mandag den 8. juli 2019

Poetry Monday :: Gardening

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Gardening (courtesy of Delores). 

Last Monday's Italian verses are still with me, and this Monday's poem is an amalgamation of the idea behind the lines "il muratore non murerà, il pescatore non pescherà ... Il fumaiolo non fumerà, il girasole non girerà" from Nonna-ni-nonnina and the tune from one of the other songs Pescatori del Canada (originally Fellow from Fortune) and the theme, gardening.  

Oh I am gardening in my garden,
Some kind of schooling happens at school.
But I'm not housing when I work indoors.
Now I am feeling kind of a fool.

Yes I am gardening in my garden,
I am shopping inside a shop,
But I'm not lifting inside a lift, no
Oh my dear maybe it's time to stop

When I am gardening in my garden,
I am weeding, pulling my weeds,
But I wonder if I am seeding
Carefully sowing precious seeds.

søndag den 7. juli 2019

Words for Wednesday - Unicorn Farm - Easter Holiday 2

In June 2019 WiseWebWoman is providing the prompts. 
I continue the story where I left off last Wednesday: the first Easter holiday at Unicorn farm, Studies in magic has been taking place all through Summer holidays, Autumn week, Christmas holidays and Spring week. The Easter Holiday "term" brings with it exams and tests and new subjects.  

This week's words are: 



Fountain Pen

When all the apprentices on the green team had changed into their school wear, they crossed the narrow moss clad bridge at the far end of the school meadows. It was cool, actually it was cold. It was a clear, crisp Spring morning. The lilac bushes at the far side of the bridge was filled with buds in promise of the coming summer, and the skies were blue; but a wind was blowing in from the sea, and it was bitterly cold. Rosa and Kirstin began shivering in the wind. "Stop!" Thora said. "don't you remember your snow magic lessons. There's no reason to be cold, and maybe even ill again," she said with a stern glance at Kirstin and Rosa. With an embarrassed smile many of the apprentices drew their wands and soon steaming jets of green, red, golden, white and blue tinted swirls kept them all warm.
Inside the paddock on the far side of the bridge were some of the most beautiful horses Susan had ever seen. "Those are hippocampi," Thora said. "We have an exceptional breed of hippocampi here on this island. We're very lucky that this part of the island has been declared a nature reserve, and people are discouraged from going here with chains and official signs. This small part of the reserve does not contain any of the protected bird species. We have grasped the chance to have a breeding station for hippocampi and other magical beasts here. This is where your lessons in cryptozoology will take place whenever it's not raining. 
"But," Veronika said speaking for more than one of them, "don't hippocampusses normally have fishtails and webbed hooves?"
"The correct plural is hippocampi, which you should have heard Thora using only a short while ago," Hilde said in her loud, grating voice.
"Yes, Hilde, they're correctly called hippocampi or hippocamps. And now to the far more interesting questions. Why do our friends here look almost like normal horses? Because they do indeed normally have fishtails, or tails like a whale or porpoise. That's what make this breed of hippocampi so very special, they are shape-shifters. Now try and make friends with them, you will find stacks of bamboo canes, a roll of string, scissors and small sacks of carrots by the fence, grab sack and a cane and tie a carrot to it with some string. And then slowly come close to one of the seahorses. They are not wild, but not used to many people at once, so please keep your voices low and avoid sudden and jerky movements. And do not try to ride them!" She looked over the paddock and back at the apprentices and called in a low, soft voice: "As there's not enough sea horses you've got to pair off." She pulled out an old fashioned ledger and a fountain pen. "Anna and Helge, Hilde and Josta, Kalle and Kirstin, Knud and Marja, Rosa and Susan, and finally Terje and Veronika."
After a momentary, quiet confusion, the apprentices were equipped with either a sack or a carrot on a stick.

They placed themselves in pairs some distance apart and dangled the carrot close to the nearest sea horse. The one closest to Susan and Rosa was a big bay. Its black tail and mane blew in the wind and they could see its nostrils quivering as it smelled the carrot. Slowly it came closer. "Do you know anything of horses?" Susan quickly asked Rosa in a low voice.
"Not much," Rosa admitted, "of course we have lots of horses in Iceland, but we live in town. Kirstin's father, my uncle, breeds a few horses, but he always told me I was too small for riding them." The beautiful horse came closer and Susan slowly pulled the carrot closer and closer. Rosa held a carrot on the palm of her hand, and obviously that one smelt better, because the horse nimbly picked the carrot from Rosa's hand and started munching it with a very loud crunching sound. Both girls giggled softly at the surprisingly loud noise, The horse whinnied back, It sounded like it too laughed at them. The horse came closer still and started sniffing Rosa,s clothes and hands.
"Oh, horsie, you're tickling me," Rosa said quietly. Susan took another carrot from their  small sack and emulating Rosa she presented the carrot on her extended palm.
"Yes!" Thora sad behind them, "That's the way to go. Rosa, I'm sure you can place a hand on his neck now. Nice and easy." Then she was gone again. Rosa gingerly extended her hand and placed it on the neck of the sea horse.
"Wow, it feels wet and seaweedy to my touch," Rosa said.
Susan fed the horse yet another carrot and placed her hand on it's neck as well. The sea horse's mane fell over her hand, stiff and wet to the feel. "Yes, he feels like he has just come out of the sea, not at all as he looks. I wonder if they are true shapeshifters, or only good at illusions?"
While Susan fed the horse even more carrots in small bites, Rosa went to the side of the horse, She patted its back and rump, all the while emitting soothing sounds. "Well his hind quarters feels like a normal horse's down here," Rosa said, "although all his skin has the same wet feel and his tail feels even more like seaweeds."
"Like the mane does also," Susan answered.
A commotion made them both look up. Hilde and Josta had lured their horse close to the fence, and now Hilde tried to mount it.
"Stop it. Now!" Thora called in a soft yet penetrating voice, startling the sea horses nearest to her. Terje and Veronika's white mare reared, Terje ducked, but the dancing hooves hit his chest with enough force to push him over in the grass. Anna let go of the horse she and Helge had been examining. It turned around and cantered off to the left where the fence went down to the water. Susan, Rosa, Helge, Anna and some of the others saw the brown form ripple and flow like water and a tail grew where the hindquarters had been moments before. Then the sea horse took to the waves.
Susan had her hands entwined in the weedy mane of the horse, her mouth close to its ear, singing small crazy songs to it. It startled at the sound of Thora's voice, but did not flee. Rosa praised it, calling him a sensible, beautiful horse, and Susan handed him another carrot.
Thora stood, her wand in her hand, casting a spell at the hippocampus carrying Hilde away towards the water. It stopped, in it's tracks as hit by something heavy. Then Thora ran to the horse and pulled Hilde off its back with more force than seemed to be in her smallish form. "Hilde, you foolish girl. You are a terrible know-all. and then you do not even know the bare essentials on hippocampi.  Didn't you listen when I told you not to mount them?" Hilde murmured something inaudible and Thora pulled her back to where Josta stood by the fence. You two go back to the Farm now and wait for us in the barn. As Hilde and Josta left, she freed the sea horse from the spell, and stroked its mane, speaking gentle words and feeding it sugared kelp bites from a pocket in her cloak. When it had quieted down, she sent it off with a gentle pat on the rump. The she went over to where Kalle and Kirstin stood. Kirstin still had a grasp on their grey stallion, it neighed and tossed its head, but it was obvious that Kirstin knew how to handle a horse.
"You're doing fine Kirstin. It looks as if sea horses are not that different from the ones your father breeds," Thora said in a kind voice.
"They do not look that different, but the feel of him is not as he looks."
The other apprentices drew closer, the pairs still tending a sea horse leading them with a hand in the mane or a dangling carrot. Knud looked extremely uncomfortable, Marja did not look much more happy with the situation, but luckily their hippocampus was a young, grey mare, docile and curious.
"And here we end this lesson," Thora said. Pat your sea horse gently, give it one last carrot, and then we gather in the green room. You have 15 minutes to get there, and bring writing materials and paper. You'll need it.  And Terje, you come with me, you'll need some peroxide on those scratches. And I need some coffee, preferably an espresso before we meet again."
The big boy nodded, and followed Thora.

The other apprentices hurried over the bridge, through the meadows and inside the farm. Susan, Knud, Rosa, Helge and Kirstin walked together, talking.

Jeg vokser alligevel -- Defiantly growing

     For nogen  tid siden fik vi øje på dette træ. Det groede ovenpå en stop-bom for enden af et spor på Hillerød station.
     Vi diskuterede hvor længe det mon havde groet der og undrede os over hvordan det havde overlevet sommeren 2018, der jo var lang, varm og tør. Og vi fantaserede om venlige togmænd, der delte deres vandflasker med det stakkels træ.

-- 🌳 --

Some time ago, we noticed this tree. It sure was defiantly growing on top of a stop-thingie at the end of a train track at the train-station in Hillerød. We talked about this growing tree, how old it might be, and how it survived the very hot and dry Summer of 2018, and had different solutions, including kind train persons sharing their water bottles with the poor, thirsty tree.

     I dag skulle vi så igen med toget, og skulle selvfølgelig lige kigge til det trodsige træ. Men det havde fået en ulykkelig ende med det. Nogen ... vandaler eller måske en sur banemand ... havde knækket træet over helt nede ved bommen.

-- 🌳 --

Today we once again passed this tree, and of course we had to check on the defiant tree, to see how it thrived.
But it had come to a sad ending for the defiantly growing tree. Somebody, either a scoundrel or an angry train person, had broken off the tree at its base.

     Og sådan endte endn et trodsigt træ sit liv.

-- 🌳 --

And this was the end of another defiant tree.

mandag den 1. juli 2019

Poetry Monday :: Drone

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Drone (courtesy of Jenny). 

And today MotherOwl is a bit crazy. The Summer holidays have begun, and the only thing drone made me think of, was an Italian children's song. 
Many years ago, when Big Sister and Big Brother were small, we went on a holiday to Italy.  To keep those two amused during mass, we bought some Italian kids' magazines - as the two did not yet read it was no problem that they were written in Italian ;) And as all that kind of magazines, these also had small gifts enclosed. I don't remember the other ones, but one of them was a CD with Zecchino d'oro. When we arrived back home we listened to the songs and laughed and learned from the amusing tunes it contained.  
One of the songs was called Nonna ni nonnina (link to YouTube to hear the song) where the chorus tells of a humming granny. And now we finally reached the connection to today's theme. Drone.
Here's my try at a translation:

Nonna ni nonnina
 In the sofa the cat's asleep,
all alone like me,
'cause my mamma's not staying with me.
She's out working with my papa,
it's not bad you see,
Nonna here she takes good care of me.
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear nonna she will surely drone away. 

Tell me, Nonna it's true that once,
long, long time ago.
That my Papa he also was small
Is it true that you carried him
in your arms like me,
just as great and big as he is?
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear nonna she will surely drone away. 

All the children, you say to me,
Why, but Nonna why,
they are all so much better than me.
When my Mamma arrive tonight
Nonna, tell her that
I have been such a good girl today.
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear Nonna she will surely drone away. 

     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     And all the smokestacks will stop to smoke
     And all the pokers will stop their poke
     But my dear Nonna she will surely drone away

     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear Nonna she will surely drone away.