Luscious
Motel Wheelbarrow Jogging trail
and/or:Suspicion
Speedboat
Graveyard
Iris
The ending - at least for now of the story of Susan and the strange, demanding bird. I only used the struck out words.
Susan looked sternly at the bird. "OOP-OOP-OOP!" it screamed.
Susan lost her temper and squawked back at it "Oop-oop-OOOP to you as well, stupid bird! I cannot help you if you won't collaborate and tell me where those dratted eggs fell from your nest!"
The birds looked stunned at Susan, raised its luscious, yellow crest and said Oop-opp-ooop, varied and softly, and in the scrying water Susan saw a tree she knew, The tree with the old wheelbarrow down below, near the beginning of the jogging trail to the beach.
"Now I know where," Susan said, looking once again squarely at the bird. "Meet me there!" With those words she turned around and ran down the stairs from the attic room. Down by the tree the bird was waiting for her, it Oop'ed softly, and Susan picked up the eggs , she found ten, light blue but dirty and carefully collected then in her hanky. Then she looked questioning at the bird, she could see no nest in the tree above her. The bird raised its crest again and flew as slowly as possible up along the trunk and disappeared into a hole near the top. Luckily Susan was a wizard, and the simply gathered the hanky in one hand, swing her wand with the other and gently soared up to the nesting hole. She placed the eggs in the soft moss - but what a smell, she peered into the nest, but she saw nothing that did not belong in a bird's nest, moss, a few feathers and leaves. The bird quickly placed herself over the eggs, and Susan noticed that the stench became more pronounced as the bird settled. "I'll keep an eye on you, Opp-bird," Susan said and carefully descended from the tree. She could hear the bird answer with soft Oop-oops.
Home at The Farm, Susan went to the library and found out that the bird was an hoopoe and that the fetid stench was an anti-predator measure, exuded by the brooding bird. "Phew," she thought to herself, "I'm happy that my suspicion about something rotting in the nest was wrong. I am going to keep an eye on that crazy bird. But now I'd better go back to writing." She put the bird books back on their shelves and hurried along the corridor and up the short flight of stairs to the room in the attic.
onsdag den 10. december 2025
Words for Wednesday December 10
tirsdag den 9. december 2025
Verdens måske bedste vanter
med god pasform og asymmetrisk afslutning.
... med noter, forklaringer, et par regnestykker og småsnak.
As promised a pattern - in Danish only - for the probably best mittens.
Den oprindelige opskrift er: Give a Hoot fra Kelbourne Woolens (hvor mønsteret ikke er tilgængeligt længere) via Jorun Holmens blog til Statistrikks blog. Her dog strikket uden hverken ugler eller statements.
Materialer
2 nøgler uldgarn.
Pinde ½ - 1 nummer mindre end angivet på banderolen.
Omkredsen på din/modtagerens håndled.
Dine hænder, eller (et omrids af) modtagerens hånd.
En hjælpepind, maskenål, maskewire, en rest tråd eller lignende.
Maskemarkører.
Strik en prøve på pinde ½ nummer mindre end på banderolen og strik rib 2 ret 1 vrang et par pinde og derefter glatstrikning. Se om det ser pænt og tæt ud. Hvis det virker for løst, så trevl op og prøv med 1 nummer mindre. Når du er tilfreds, regner du din strikkefasthed ud - altså hvor mange masker, der går på 10 cm.
Antal masker - regnestykke
Regn ud, hvor mange m der skal til at nå rundt om håndleddet. Rund ned til nærmeste tal i 3-tabellen og læg en til.
Jeg bruger normalt 37 m, derfor er det brugt som eksempel i denne opskrift.
Begge vanter
Slå det beregnede antal masker op, for eksempel 37.
Strik så første pind fra vrangen *en ret, to vrang* og slut med en ret. Det bliver naturligvis til to ret, en vrang på retsiden, og der er altså en ekstra vrangmaske i den ene ende. Når maskerne så sættes på strømpepinde for at strikke rundt, strikkes den første og den sidste vrangmaske vrang sammen på 2. omgang. Der er nu et antal m deleligt med tre på pindene, for eksempel 36.
Strik rundt i rib 2r, 1vr indtil der er strikket mindst 6 cm.
Strik 5 omgange ret. Hvis selve vanten skal have en anden farve, så skift efter 2. omgang her.
Tommelfingerudtagning:
Denne form for udtagning er lidt kringlet. Det hjælper at kigge på et foto af vanterne.
<
Her er den venstre under udførelse på min hånd.
Venstre vante
Udtagningen til tommelfinger.
Der tages ud ved at tage en m op i forkanten af masken på forrige omgang. Se tegningen hos Statistrikk.
Tag 1 m ud som beskrevet, strik en maske og sæt en maskemarkør på pinden.
Fortsæt med at tage ud i masken lige inden maskemarkøren indtil der er taget (1/3 af maskeantallet) m. ud. Jeg tager 36/3 = 12 m ud.
Strik to omgange ret
Sæt de (1/3 af maskeantallet) efter de udtagne masker på en hjælpepind. Se mit foto. Det lyder ulogisk, men er det, der giver den gode pasform. Anbring en maskemarkør 3 m efter tommelhullet på venstre hånd.
Strik videre i glatstrikning til midt på knoerne.
Højre vante
Tag en m ud i bagerste del af masken på pinden under - for at gøre det, er det nødvendigt at strikke masken først. Se tegningen hos Statistrikk.
Gentag til der er taget i alt (1/3 af maskeantallet) m ud.
Strik 2 omgange glatstrikning og sæt de (1/3 af maskeantallet) før de udtagne masker på en hjælpepind (lige så ulogisk som den venstre). Sæt en maskemarkør 3 m før tommelhullet på højre hånd.
Strik videre i glatstrikning til midt på knoerne.
Bedre plads over håndryggen:
Når man når til midt på knoerne, strikkes der en venderække: Lad håndfladens masker hvile og strik en venderække over håndrygggen.
Maskemarkøren er "grænsen" mellem håndryg og håndflade og man strikker venderækken over håndryggens halvdel af maskerne - hvis det ikke går op, skal de overskydende masker strikkes med. (For eksempel hvis man har 33 m i alt, strikkes der 17 m).
Vend og slå om, strik vrang tilbage, vend og slå om. Strik nu rundt igen og strik omslagene sammen med de masker, der ikke blev strikket. Maskemarkøren skal blive siddende.
Strik nu videre indtil vanten er ca. ½ cm kortere end yderste led af lillefingeren. Mål på dine egne hænder eller på tegningen.
Asymmetrisk aflukning:
Bemærk at højre og venstre vante er spejlvendte. Vær opmærksom på, hvilken side, der er lillefinger- og tommelfingersiden og hvilke pinde der er håndrygs- og håndfladepindene.
Venstre vante
Fordel maskerne jævnt på 4 pinde, sådan at masken lige efter maskemarkøren er 1 maske på 1. pind.
- Pind 1 og 2 er håndrygspindene. Pind 2 er lillefingersiden
- Pind 3 og 4 er håndfladepindene. Pind 3 er lillefingersiden
Højre vante
Fordel maskerne jævnt på 4 pinde, sådan at masken lige efter maskemarkøren er 1 maske på 1. pind.
- Pind 1 og 2 er håndfladepindene. Pind 2 er lillefingersiden
- Pind 3 og 4 er håndrygspindene. Pind 3 er lillefingersiden
NOTE: Hvis maskeantallet ikke går op, er det igen håndrygspindene der skal have de 1 eller 2 ekstra masker.
Tag nu ind på lillefingersiden på hver anden omgang sådan her:
Strik de to sidste masker på pind 2 drejet ret sammen. Strik de to første m. på pind 3 ret sammen.
Gentag denne lillefingerside-aflukningsomgang på hver anden omgang indtil der er så mange masker tilbage på håndfladesidens lillefingerpind som regnestykket herunder angiver.
Næste gang der skal tages ind på lillefingersiden, påbegynder man indtagningerne på hver omgang på tommelfingersiden. Det vil sige, man tager ind sådan her:
- Strik de to første m. på pind 1 ret sammen. Strik de to sidste masker på pind 2 drejet ret sammen. Strik de to første m. på pind 3 ret sammen. Strik de to sidste masker på pind 4 drejet ret sammen.
På næste omgang tager man kun ind på tommelfingersiden:
Strik de to første m. på pind 1 ret sammen. Strik de to sidste masker på pind 2 drejet ret sammen.
Gentag disse to indtagningsomgange til der er 2 m. tilbage på håndfladepindene - der kan nu være 3 og 3, 2 og 3 eller 2 og 2 masker tilbage på håndrygspindene, det er helt korrekt.
Bryd garnet og træk enden gennem maskerne.
Tommelfinger:
Fordel m fra hjælpetråden på 3 p, og saml 2 ekstra m op i mellemrummene i alt 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - m. Strik r til tommelen er ca ½ cm kortere end din/tegningens tommelfinger. Tag ind ved at strikke 2 ret sammen hele omgangen rundt. Træk tråden gennem de sidste m og stram til.
Hæft ender.
... med noter, forklaringer, et par regnestykker og småsnak.
As promised a pattern - in Danish only - for the probably best mittens.
Den oprindelige opskrift er: Give a Hoot fra Kelbourne Woolens (hvor mønsteret ikke er tilgængeligt længere) via Jorun Holmens blog til Statistrikks blog. Her dog strikket uden hverken ugler eller statements.
Materialer
2 nøgler uldgarn.
Pinde ½ - 1 nummer mindre end angivet på banderolen.
Omkredsen på din/modtagerens håndled.
Dine hænder, eller (et omrids af) modtagerens hånd.
En hjælpepind, maskenål, maskewire, en rest tråd eller lignende.
Maskemarkører.
Strik en prøve på pinde ½ nummer mindre end på banderolen og strik rib 2 ret 1 vrang et par pinde og derefter glatstrikning. Se om det ser pænt og tæt ud. Hvis det virker for løst, så trevl op og prøv med 1 nummer mindre. Når du er tilfreds, regner du din strikkefasthed ud - altså hvor mange masker, der går på 10 cm.
Antal masker - regnestykke
Regn ud, hvor mange m der skal til at nå rundt om håndleddet. Rund ned til nærmeste tal i 3-tabellen og læg en til.
Jeg bruger normalt 37 m, derfor er det brugt som eksempel i denne opskrift.
Begge vanter
Slå det beregnede antal masker op, for eksempel 37.
Strik så første pind fra vrangen *en ret, to vrang* og slut med en ret. Det bliver naturligvis til to ret, en vrang på retsiden, og der er altså en ekstra vrangmaske i den ene ende. Når maskerne så sættes på strømpepinde for at strikke rundt, strikkes den første og den sidste vrangmaske vrang sammen på 2. omgang. Der er nu et antal m deleligt med tre på pindene, for eksempel 36.
Strik rundt i rib 2r, 1vr indtil der er strikket mindst 6 cm.
Strik 5 omgange ret. Hvis selve vanten skal have en anden farve, så skift efter 2. omgang her.
Tommelfingerudtagning:
Denne form for udtagning er lidt kringlet. Det hjælper at kigge på et foto af vanterne.
<
Her er den venstre under udførelse på min hånd.
Venstre vante
Udtagningen til tommelfinger.
Der tages ud ved at tage en m op i forkanten af masken på forrige omgang. Se tegningen hos Statistrikk.
Tag 1 m ud som beskrevet, strik en maske og sæt en maskemarkør på pinden.
Fortsæt med at tage ud i masken lige inden maskemarkøren indtil der er taget (1/3 af maskeantallet) m. ud. Jeg tager 36/3 = 12 m ud.
Strik to omgange ret
Sæt de (1/3 af maskeantallet) efter de udtagne masker på en hjælpepind. Se mit foto. Det lyder ulogisk, men er det, der giver den gode pasform. Anbring en maskemarkør 3 m efter tommelhullet på venstre hånd.
Strik videre i glatstrikning til midt på knoerne.
Højre vante
Tag en m ud i bagerste del af masken på pinden under - for at gøre det, er det nødvendigt at strikke masken først. Se tegningen hos Statistrikk.
Gentag til der er taget i alt (1/3 af maskeantallet) m ud.
Strik 2 omgange glatstrikning og sæt de (1/3 af maskeantallet) før de udtagne masker på en hjælpepind (lige så ulogisk som den venstre). Sæt en maskemarkør 3 m før tommelhullet på højre hånd.
Strik videre i glatstrikning til midt på knoerne.
Bedre plads over håndryggen:
Når man når til midt på knoerne, strikkes der en venderække: Lad håndfladens masker hvile og strik en venderække over håndrygggen.
Maskemarkøren er "grænsen" mellem håndryg og håndflade og man strikker venderækken over håndryggens halvdel af maskerne - hvis det ikke går op, skal de overskydende masker strikkes med. (For eksempel hvis man har 33 m i alt, strikkes der 17 m).
Vend og slå om, strik vrang tilbage, vend og slå om. Strik nu rundt igen og strik omslagene sammen med de masker, der ikke blev strikket. Maskemarkøren skal blive siddende.
Strik nu videre indtil vanten er ca. ½ cm kortere end yderste led af lillefingeren. Mål på dine egne hænder eller på tegningen.
Asymmetrisk aflukning:
Bemærk at højre og venstre vante er spejlvendte. Vær opmærksom på, hvilken side, der er lillefinger- og tommelfingersiden og hvilke pinde der er håndrygs- og håndfladepindene.
Venstre vante
Fordel maskerne jævnt på 4 pinde, sådan at masken lige efter maskemarkøren er 1 maske på 1. pind.
- Pind 1 og 2 er håndrygspindene. Pind 2 er lillefingersiden
- Pind 3 og 4 er håndfladepindene. Pind 3 er lillefingersiden
Højre vante
Fordel maskerne jævnt på 4 pinde, sådan at masken lige efter maskemarkøren er 1 maske på 1. pind.
- Pind 1 og 2 er håndfladepindene. Pind 2 er lillefingersiden
- Pind 3 og 4 er håndrygspindene. Pind 3 er lillefingersiden
NOTE: Hvis maskeantallet ikke går op, er det igen håndrygspindene der skal have de 1 eller 2 ekstra masker.
Tag nu ind på lillefingersiden på hver anden omgang sådan her:
Strik de to sidste masker på pind 2 drejet ret sammen. Strik de to første m. på pind 3 ret sammen.
Gentag denne lillefingerside-aflukningsomgang på hver anden omgang indtil der er så mange masker tilbage på håndfladesidens lillefingerpind som regnestykket herunder angiver.
Asymmetrisk aflukning - regnestykke:
Del antallet af masker på en håndfladepind med 2 (jeg har 9 m pr. pind: 9:2 = 4,5)
Fjern eventuelle halve (4,5 = 4)
Læg 2 til (4 + 2 = 6)
Tag ind på lillefingersiden til der er (resultatet af regnestykket) m tilbage på håndfladesidens lillefingerpind (for mig 6 masker).
Del antallet af masker på en håndfladepind med 2 (jeg har 9 m pr. pind: 9:2 = 4,5)
Fjern eventuelle halve (4,5 = 4)
Læg 2 til (4 + 2 = 6)
Tag ind på lillefingersiden til der er (resultatet af regnestykket) m tilbage på håndfladesidens lillefingerpind (for mig 6 masker).
Næste gang der skal tages ind på lillefingersiden, påbegynder man indtagningerne på hver omgang på tommelfingersiden. Det vil sige, man tager ind sådan her:
- Strik de to første m. på pind 1 ret sammen. Strik de to sidste masker på pind 2 drejet ret sammen. Strik de to første m. på pind 3 ret sammen. Strik de to sidste masker på pind 4 drejet ret sammen.
På næste omgang tager man kun ind på tommelfingersiden:
Strik de to første m. på pind 1 ret sammen. Strik de to sidste masker på pind 2 drejet ret sammen.
Gentag disse to indtagningsomgange til der er 2 m. tilbage på håndfladepindene - der kan nu være 3 og 3, 2 og 3 eller 2 og 2 masker tilbage på håndrygspindene, det er helt korrekt.
Bryd garnet og træk enden gennem maskerne.
Tommelfinger:
Fordel m fra hjælpetråden på 3 p, og saml 2 ekstra m op i mellemrummene i alt 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - m. Strik r til tommelen er ca ½ cm kortere end din/tegningens tommelfinger. Tag ind ved at strikke 2 ret sammen hele omgangen rundt. Træk tråden gennem de sidste m og stram til.
Hæft ender.
mandag den 8. december 2025
Poetry Monday :: Peace ☮
Beklager, ikke noget på dansk i dag
Poetry Monday - what's that? It is a blogging game, that 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 and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell. We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home.
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt: Peace ☮
I was a child and young in the 70es - peace movements were a part of my everyday life back then.
I have a hard time taking peace seriously. And when hearing the word peace, up comes posters in big psychedelic letters.
"Make Peace, not War" or even "Fighting for Peace"
And now, feeling the vibes and mourning that on this day forty-five years ago (1980) John Lennon was shot outside his own house, I can only hear Give Peace a Chance for my inner ear:
Ev'rybody's talking 'bout
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, that-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Hit it
C'mon, ev'rybody's talking about
Ministers, sinisters, banisters and canisters
Bishops and Fishops and Rabbis and Popeyes and bye-bye, bye-byes
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Let me tell you now
Ev'rybody's talking 'bout
Revolution, evolution, masturbation, flagellation, regulation, integrations
Meditations, United Nations, congratulations
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Ev'rybody's talking 'bout
John and Yoko, Timmy Leary, Rosemary, Tommy Smothers, Bobby Dylan, Tommy Cooper
Derek Taylor, Norman Mailer, Alan Ginsberg, Hare Krishna, Hare, Hare Krishna
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
Poetry Monday - what's that? It is a blogging game, that 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 and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell. We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home.
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt: Peace ☮
I was a child and young in the 70es - peace movements were a part of my everyday life back then.
I have a hard time taking peace seriously. And when hearing the word peace, up comes posters in big psychedelic letters.
"Make Peace, not War" or even "Fighting for Peace"
And now, feeling the vibes and mourning that on this day forty-five years ago (1980) John Lennon was shot outside his own house, I can only hear Give Peace a Chance for my inner ear:
Ev'rybody's talking 'bout
Bagism, Shagism, Dragism, Madism, Ragism, Tagism
This-ism, that-ism, is-m, is-m, is-m
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Hit it
C'mon, ev'rybody's talking about
Ministers, sinisters, banisters and canisters
Bishops and Fishops and Rabbis and Popeyes and bye-bye, bye-byes
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Let me tell you now
Ev'rybody's talking 'bout
Revolution, evolution, masturbation, flagellation, regulation, integrations
Meditations, United Nations, congratulations
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
Ev'rybody's talking 'bout
John and Yoko, Timmy Leary, Rosemary, Tommy Smothers, Bobby Dylan, Tommy Cooper
Derek Taylor, Norman Mailer, Alan Ginsberg, Hare Krishna, Hare, Hare Krishna
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
All we are saying is give peace a chance
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
fredag den 5. december 2025
Modulstjerner igen
For my English readers: This is more speculation on Modular stars from my Blogtober. I found out that I was right after all; 16 mocules are the maximal number.
Det er efterhånden en del tid siden, jeg så ideen hos Bellas bedrifter, men ind i mellem går tiden for hurtigt. Den dag, jeg læste hendes blogopslag, var jeg ikke spor i julehumør, og jeg var ved at rydde op - og derfor let at distrahere. Det, jeg ryddede op, var gamle turfoldere og kort, og det kunne da mageligt blive til en stjerne. Jeg kan nemlig lide stjerner året rundt.
Dengang skrev jeg:
Videre fortalte jeg om det maksimale antal moduler, man kunne bruge:
Senere fandt jeg ud af, at jeg havde ret. Jeg pillede stjernen fra hinanden og glattede alle folderne med et falseben - en teske eller lignende kan også bruges. Og så kunne der lige præcis blive plads til 16 moduler:
16 moduler er måske lidt i overkanten, og 8 lidt vel lidt.
Siden har jeg foldet et par stykker til. de fleste af dem har ni takker som den grønstribede, men der er også flere med otte og enkelte med et andet antal. Der kommer nok mere om dem senere.
De to er foldet i tebrevsposer, som jeg jo har en overflod af.
De kan foldes i næsten alt papir, men man gør det afgjort lettere for sig selv, hvis man limer den lille flap bagpå fast på det første modul, når man forsøger sig med de helt små.
Trekanten markeret med gult, limes fast inden jeg folder færdig.
Det er efterhånden en del tid siden, jeg så ideen hos Bellas bedrifter, men ind i mellem går tiden for hurtigt. Den dag, jeg læste hendes blogopslag, var jeg ikke spor i julehumør, og jeg var ved at rydde op - og derfor let at distrahere. Det, jeg ryddede op, var gamle turfoldere og kort, og det kunne da mageligt blive til en stjerne. Jeg kan nemlig lide stjerner året rundt.
Fordi Instagram ikke kan lide mig, og fordi jeg godt kan lide
skrevne vejledninger, valgte jeg at følge den norske bloggers
anvisninger (jeg har ingen problemer med at læse norsk).
Hvad jeg ikke lige havde set, var at både Bella og den Instagram-vejledning hun anbefalede, foldede en stjerne med ni moduler, hvor den norske kun havde otte. Så jeg snuppede en gammel kortfolder, delte den i otte og foldede løs. Det var ret enkelt, kun lidt bøvlet at sætte den sammen.
Hvad jeg ikke lige havde set, var at både Bella og den Instagram-vejledning hun anbefalede, foldede en stjerne med ni moduler, hvor den norske kun havde otte. Så jeg snuppede en gammel kortfolder, delte den i otte og foldede løs. Det var ret enkelt, kun lidt bøvlet at sætte den sammen.
Videre fortalte jeg om det maksimale antal moduler, man kunne bruge:
Modulerne kan altså skubbes tættere
sammen eller hives ud, så de danner en mere åben stjerne. Hvor mange
moduler kan der mon blive plads til, hvis man skubber dem helt tæt
sammen? Jeg gættede på 16, det dobbelte af de minimale 8 moduler. men
jeg kunne kun få plads til 15 lige meget hvor meget, jeg skubbede.
Senere fandt jeg ud af, at jeg havde ret. Jeg pillede stjernen fra hinanden og glattede alle folderne med et falseben - en teske eller lignende kan også bruges. Og så kunne der lige præcis blive plads til 16 moduler:
16 moduler er måske lidt i overkanten, og 8 lidt vel lidt.
Siden har jeg foldet et par stykker til. de fleste af dem har ni takker som den grønstribede, men der er også flere med otte og enkelte med et andet antal. Der kommer nok mere om dem senere.
De kan foldes i næsten alt papir, men man gør det afgjort lettere for sig selv, hvis man limer den lille flap bagpå fast på det første modul, når man forsøger sig med de helt små.
Trekanten markeret med gult, limes fast inden jeg folder færdig.
torsdag den 4. december 2025
Verdens (måske) bedste vanter
Possibly the best Mittens ever
My how to knit "Norvegian" asymmetrical mittens are ready to be posted in their third and hopefully perfect version in a few days. This is a preview.
Lige nu er jeg i gang med at strikke verdens måske bedste vanter.
Den gang jeg startede på det, kaldte jeg dem mine norske vanter. Den særligt norske ting var den måde, tommelfingeren er lavet på. I
stedet for en kile, er det ... tja sådan lidt kræmmerhusagtigt.
Men efter at have forfulgt sporene fra Statistrikks blog over Jorun Holmens blog til Give a Hoot fra Kelbourne Woolens - hvor mønsteret ikke ligger længere ... så er det lige før, jeg må sige at de er mere amerikanske end norske, altså!
Men derfor måtte jeg nu prøve alligevel.
Men jeg ville ikke være mig, hvis jeg ikke lavede om på opskriften. Næste forsøg var den asymmetriske aflukning i toppen.
Nu er jeg i gang med endnu et par forbedringer - mere plads over knoerne og lidt bedre asymmetri ... det vil sige, at jeg efter at have sat tommelfingermaskerne på en hjælpepind, sætter en maskemarkør 3 m efter tommelhullet på venstre hånd og 3 m. føre tommelhullet på højre hånd. Det gør at asymmetrien passer bedre til tommelfingerens placering i forhold til resten af fingrene.
Opskriften kommer om et par dage, når jeg har strikket den anden vante færdig og dermed testet opskriftens læselighed.
Lige nu er jeg i gang med at strikke verdens måske bedste vanter.
Den gang jeg startede på det, kaldte jeg dem mine norske vanter.
Men efter at have forfulgt sporene fra Statistrikks blog over Jorun Holmens blog til Give a Hoot fra Kelbourne Woolens - hvor mønsteret ikke ligger længere ... så er det lige før, jeg må sige at de er mere amerikanske end norske, altså!
Men derfor måtte jeg nu prøve alligevel.
Men jeg ville ikke være mig, hvis jeg ikke lavede om på opskriften. Næste forsøg var den asymmetriske aflukning i toppen.
Nu er jeg i gang med endnu et par forbedringer - mere plads over knoerne og lidt bedre asymmetri ... det vil sige, at jeg efter at have sat tommelfingermaskerne på en hjælpepind, sætter en maskemarkør 3 m efter tommelhullet på venstre hånd og 3 m. føre tommelhullet på højre hånd. Det gør at asymmetrien passer bedre til tommelfingerens placering i forhold til resten af fingrene.
Opskriften kommer om et par dage, når jeg har strikket den anden vante færdig og dermed testet opskriftens læselighed.
onsdag den 3. december 2025
Words for Wednesday & IWSG
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually
taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied byWiseWebWoman and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Ambulance
Bluebell
Sacristy
Fountain
and/or:
Magnificent
Connemara
Castaway
Trumpet
I used the first set only, and as usual in the order they were given, to continue my tale of Susan and the strange bird.
Susan heard the siren of a far off ambulance, and remembered the "day of the Bluebells" when Kirstin fell and hurt her leg. At that day she had learned how to listen to bigger mammals, like cows and horses, and they were about to practice bird talking when Kirstin broke her leg, and the lesson was prematurely ended. They had not yet arrived at the subject again since, and remembering her bouts of synaesthesia after talking to toads*), Susan was loath to try bird talking unaided. But she had to do something, she had to try. The strange bird in front of her was seemingly agitated over something!
"Wait here!" she told the bird. It Oop'ed once, softly and seemed to understand. Susan ran down to the stable, where everything concerning animals, and everything too big to be placed elsewhere, and everything somebody might need during classes - in short almost every thing imaginable except books were kepi at the Unicorn Farm. Susan tiptoed to the corner where an old holy water fountain now contained their supply af scrying water. It still smelled of old books, incense and snuffed out candles from the small sacristy where she had helped fetch it. The smell made Susan feel better, more calm and with a thankful thought she opened a nearby cupboard an took one of the small bowls. Then she poured a tiny amount of water into it.
Quickly she returned to the bird in the deserted classroom. She took a deep breath, concentrated on the spell, the bird and the water. Then she swished her wand and said "Vötn tala" She looked at the bird, who began with its Oop-opp-opp once again. Susan looked at the water, she saw a series of pictures seen from a bird's eye. Big, grey wings nearing, the Oop-bird getting scared and leaving its nest with a big jump, then the eggs from the nest, falling to the ground, lying in the grass, getting cold! Susan understood the urgency and tried to tell the bird to lead her there. But it just went on screaming OOP-OOP-OOP, creating flickering pictures of grey wings, falling eggs and cold! in the water.
What now, Susan? Time will tell ...
*) If you're curious, the chapters are here: Synaesthesia & After the visit to the minister.
December 3 question - As a writer, what was one of the coolest/best gifts you ever received?
My reply - With the danger of repeating myself. The best gift, I was ever given was an old typewriter when I was around five years old. There was no special occasion, it was just old, decrepit rather, and my mother needed a new one. I was given the old one, and wrote away on it for years. I still regret throwing it out in a move.
You can see the typewriter and read a poem written in its honour here: My partner in Crime.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of coordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied byWiseWebWoman and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Ambulance
Bluebell
Sacristy
Fountain
and/or:
Magnificent
Connemara
Castaway
Trumpet
I used the first set only, and as usual in the order they were given, to continue my tale of Susan and the strange bird.
Susan heard the siren of a far off ambulance, and remembered the "day of the Bluebells" when Kirstin fell and hurt her leg. At that day she had learned how to listen to bigger mammals, like cows and horses, and they were about to practice bird talking when Kirstin broke her leg, and the lesson was prematurely ended. They had not yet arrived at the subject again since, and remembering her bouts of synaesthesia after talking to toads*), Susan was loath to try bird talking unaided. But she had to do something, she had to try. The strange bird in front of her was seemingly agitated over something!
"Wait here!" she told the bird. It Oop'ed once, softly and seemed to understand. Susan ran down to the stable, where everything concerning animals, and everything too big to be placed elsewhere, and everything somebody might need during classes - in short almost every thing imaginable except books were kepi at the Unicorn Farm. Susan tiptoed to the corner where an old holy water fountain now contained their supply af scrying water. It still smelled of old books, incense and snuffed out candles from the small sacristy where she had helped fetch it. The smell made Susan feel better, more calm and with a thankful thought she opened a nearby cupboard an took one of the small bowls. Then she poured a tiny amount of water into it.
Quickly she returned to the bird in the deserted classroom. She took a deep breath, concentrated on the spell, the bird and the water. Then she swished her wand and said "Vötn tala" She looked at the bird, who began with its Oop-opp-opp once again. Susan looked at the water, she saw a series of pictures seen from a bird's eye. Big, grey wings nearing, the Oop-bird getting scared and leaving its nest with a big jump, then the eggs from the nest, falling to the ground, lying in the grass, getting cold! Susan understood the urgency and tried to tell the bird to lead her there. But it just went on screaming OOP-OOP-OOP, creating flickering pictures of grey wings, falling eggs and cold! in the water.
What now, Susan? Time will tell ...
*) If you're curious, the chapters are here: Synaesthesia & After the visit to the minister.
- - A - - B - - C - -
December 3 question - As a writer, what was one of the coolest/best gifts you ever received?My reply - With the danger of repeating myself. The best gift, I was ever given was an old typewriter when I was around five years old. There was no special occasion, it was just old, decrepit rather, and my mother needed a new one. I was given the old one, and wrote away on it for years. I still regret throwing it out in a move.
You can see the typewriter and read a poem written in its honour here: My partner in Crime.
mandag den 1. december 2025
Colour of the Month :: December :: Månedens farve
I had written this, and pre-published it for yesterday evening. Mysteriously it has disappeared insteead of publishing. Strange things happen in the 'web.
-- 🩷 --
Jeg havde skrevet og planlagt Månedens farve til i går aftes. Men i stedet for at udgive sig selv, synes det at have slettet sig selv. Jeg har ledt, både i slettede opslag og på mine andre blogs, det er bare væk. Så nu prøver jeg igen.
-- 🩷 -- 🗑 -- 🩷 --
Already back when I began the year, I had decided on the colour for December, the one that began it all.
-- 🩷 --
Allerede tilbage i januar havde jeg besluttet mig for december måneds farve, nemlig den, der gav startskuddet til denne serie.
Poetry Monday and Catching up
Mandagsdigt og nyt
Today is December 1, We're given Moles eye view as a prompt. It's the opposite of Birds eye View it seems. I got this mixed up with "Making a mountain out of a mole hill" and wrote a haiku.
If you are a mole
every mole hill really is
big as a mountain.
If you are a mole
every mole hill really is
big as a mountain.
-- ⼭ --
I dag, den første december, er vores stikord: Mole's eye view. Det betyder frøperspektiv. Men jeg fik det blandet sammen med det engelske ordsprog "Making a mountain out of a mole hill (gøre et muldvarpeskud til et bjerg)" altså En storm i et glas vand.
Men de der muldvarpe blev ved at spøge og det endte med dette haiku:
Er du en muldvarp
er et muldvarpeskud jo
så højt som et bjerg.
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
-- 🕯 -- 🕯 -- 🕯 -- 🕯 --
And now for something entirely different: Advent. Yesterday was time for lighting of the first candle, but poor MotherOwl had been busy and was not prepared. Bustling through our Advent and Christmas crate she found four only slightly used purple candles.
Some clay, found during cleaning, had become hard as a brick and was left out in the frost and rain to turn soft and malleable; and it actually was - sticky in the extreme, but serviceable. The same cleaning had also procured some decorative mushrooms. Greens came from a hedge in the vicinity - yes The Writer asked first - and voila Advent decoration ready for tea time.
-- 🕯 --
Og så til noget helt andet. I går var det jo første søndag i advent. Men Uglemor havde haft travlt, og været slatten, så der var ingen adventskrans. Dalsgaard i Skivholme belærer mig ganske vist om at det ikke er en adventskrans, hvis den ikke er rund, men det tager jeg ikke så tungt.
Ved at stå på hovedet i vores advents- og julekasse fandt jeg fire kun let brugte lilla lys, måske tre år gamle, måske mere.
Udenfor i en gammel bakke, havde jeg lagt noget ler, fundet under oprydning og hårdt som sten. Det endte derude i håb om at regn og frost kunne blødgøre det, og søreme, det var blevet til ler igen; mega-klistret ler, men ler der kunne bruges. Under samme oprydning havde jeg også fundet nogle pyntesvampe. Men der skulle også noget grønt til. Vi kiggede på vores gamle juletræ, helt fra 2016, men blev enige om, at det kunne fældes og genbruges i år. Så kiggede vi på naboens hæk og på hinanden. Skribenten greb en rosensaks, og efter at have vekslet et par venskabelige ord med naboen, kom han hjem med pyntegrønt. Så vores adventskrans er altså totalt genbrugs i år.
søndag den 30. november 2025
Godt nytår ~ Happy New Year
Nej, jeg er ikke blevet senil og roder rundt i år og måneder. Men i
dag er det jo 1. søndag i advent. Kirkens nytår. Vi starter på et helt
nyt kirkeår.
Jeg fik også pudset det store vindue og gjort andre ting, men billeder må vente. Jeg tøvede, og pludselig var det for mørkt.
No, I have not yet turned senile and is mixing up days, months and years. But today we began a new liturgical year. A reason to celebrate,
I also cleaned the big window and did some other thing, but pictures will have to wait. I forgot, and suddenly it was too dark.
Jeg fik også pudset det store vindue og gjort andre ting, men billeder må vente. Jeg tøvede, og pludselig var det for mørkt.
-- 🕯 -- 🕯 -- 🕯 -- 🕯 --
No, I have not yet turned senile and is mixing up days, months and years. But today we began a new liturgical year. A reason to celebrate,
I also cleaned the big window and did some other thing, but pictures will have to wait. I forgot, and suddenly it was too dark.
torsdag den 27. november 2025
onsdag den 26. november 2025
Words for Wednesday ~ November 26
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually
taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise River at Drifting through Life has taken over as our new coordinator. Thanks!
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Bird
Window.
Wings
Span
Open
and/or:
Time
World
Laugh
All
Get
The words led me astray. I had sworn not to. I started a new story about Susan. Earlier; I thought I did so because Elephant's Child urged me on. Now I don't know any more ... Maybe she still does. Sometimes I felt like I wrote my stories for her alone, when time were tough and hot in Australia. ... I still miss her gentle presence in the blogosphere ...
A bird was pecking at the window. At first Susan did not notice, busy as she was with today's assignment on transformational magic and herbs. But as the poor creature beat its wings in time with the pecking, Susan noticed the sound. She looked up, and in the short span of time she noticed that it was a bird, she had never seen before and then a span of great, grey wings hovering in the near background. She jumped up and opened the window.
Now she had all the time in the world to look at the bird. It sure was a strange one. A bit larger that a blackbird, but cinnamon coloured, with black and white banded wings, a long, slender beak and a feather crest reminding Susan of a stegosaurus. The bird folded its crest onto a long, tapering plume with a black end. It looked at Susan with one of its black eye, then turned its head and looked with the other eye.
Then it opened its beak and squawked Oop-oop-oop.
Susan did not laugh at it, but she smiled widely. "What did you say?" was all she managed. Once again the bird opened its beak
"OOP-OOP-OOP!" it said loudly, clearly impatient now.
"Sorry bird, Susan said, " I don't get it."
And as always now having used all the words in the order they were given, this is where I stop and hope to continue next Wednesday.
The bird in this chapter is an Eurasian hoopoe, a rare guest in Denmark. and the bird of the day on my Birds of Denmark calendar day before yesterday - today it's the blackbird.
Bloglegen Words for Wednesday blev startet af Delores og udviklede sig til en flytbar fest med mange deltagere, der leverede ordene. Da Delores lukkede sin blog for altid på grund af diverse problemer, overtog Elephant's Child (Sue) rollen som koordinator.
Nu, efter Sues bortgang, er det stadig uklart, hvem der vil overtage denne rolle. River gør det i resten af 2025, men måske bliver Lissa vores nye koordinator.
Uanset hvad, hvordan, hvor eller hvem, er målet med ordene at opmuntre os til at skrive. En historie, et digt, hvad end der kommer os i tankerne.
Denne måneds ord bliver leveret af Sean Jeating og kan findes på Rivers blog.
Hvis du poster et indlæg på din egen blog, så skriv en kommentar på Rivers blog, så vi kan komme forbi og læse det og tilføje et par opmuntrende ord.
Det er også en udfordring, hvor det gamle ordsprog "Jo flere, jo bedre" holder stik.
Så husk at følge linkene, gå tilbage og læse andres historier. Og skriv gerne en kommentar, når du har læst dem. Udfordringer som denne trives med interaktion, feedback og opmuntring. Og vi har ALLE brug for opmuntring.
Vi fik disse ord:
Fugl
Vindue
Vinger
Spændvidde, vingefang, omfatte,
Åben, åbne, åbn
og/eller:
Tid, gange
Verden
Latter
Alt
Få, fatte, forstå
Ordene lokkede mig. Jeg havde lovet mig selv ikke at gøre det. Men ... jeg begyndte på en ny historie om Susan. Tidligere troede jeg, at jeg gjorde det, fordi Elephant's Child ansporede mig. Nu er jeg ikke sikker ... Måske gør hun det stadig. Nogle gange følte jeg, at jeg skrev mine historier kun for hende, når tiderne var hårde og varme i Australien. ... Hendes stille - eller ikke såå stille entusiasme var nogen gange nok til at bringe mig til tasterne.
Jeg savner stadig hendes blide tilstedeværelse i blogosfæren ...
Eftersom jeg skriver på engelsk først, og så oversætter til/gendigter på dansk, er nogle af stikordenen uigenkendelige. For eksempel span i dette afsnit. Jeg oversætter det med vingefang, spændvidde eller omfatte, men det kan også bruges om tid, ligesom det gamle danske et spand af år. Det blev bare til i det korte øjeblik på dansk.
En fugl hakkede på vinduet. Først bemærkede Susan det ikke, hun var opslugt af dagens opgave om transformationsmagi og magiske urter. Men da det stakkels dyr også begyndte at slå med vingerne i takt med sin hakken, bemærkede Susan lyden. Hun kiggede op, og i det korte øjeblik, det tog hende at bemærke, at det var en fugl, hun aldrig havde set før, så hun også et par store, grå vinger i baggrunden. Hun sprang op og åbnede vinduet.
Nu havde hun god tid til at se på fuglen. Det var en meget underlig fugl. Lidt større end en solsort, men kanelfarvet, med sort- og hvidstribede vinger, et langt, slankt næb og en fjerkrone, der mindede Susan om en stegosaurus eller en punker. Fuglen klappede sin fjerkrone sammen til en lang, pids fjerting med en sort ende. Den kiggede på Susan med det ene sorte øje, vendte derefter hovedet og kiggede med det andet øje.
Så åbnede den næbbet og skreg Uup-uup-uup.
Susan lo ikke ad den, men hun smilede bredt. »Hvad sagde du?« var alt, hvad hun fik frem. Fuglen åbnede igen næbbet
»UUP-UUP-UUP!« sagde den højt og tydeligvis utålmodig.
»Undskyld, fugl,« sagde Susan, »det forstår jeg ikke.«
Og som altid, nu hvor jeg har brugt alle ordene i den rækkefølge, de blev givet, stopper jeg her og håber at kunne fortsætte næste onsdag.
Fuglen i dette kapitel er en hærfugl, en sjælden gæst i Danmark og fuglen i min kalender »Danmarks fugle« i mandags. I dag har vi en solsort.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise River at Drifting through Life has taken over as our new coordinator. Thanks!
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Bird
Window.
Wings
Span
Open
and/or:
Time
World
Laugh
All
Get
The words led me astray. I had sworn not to. I started a new story about Susan. Earlier; I thought I did so because Elephant's Child urged me on. Now I don't know any more ... Maybe she still does. Sometimes I felt like I wrote my stories for her alone, when time were tough and hot in Australia. ... I still miss her gentle presence in the blogosphere ...
A bird was pecking at the window. At first Susan did not notice, busy as she was with today's assignment on transformational magic and herbs. But as the poor creature beat its wings in time with the pecking, Susan noticed the sound. She looked up, and in the short span of time she noticed that it was a bird, she had never seen before and then a span of great, grey wings hovering in the near background. She jumped up and opened the window.
Now she had all the time in the world to look at the bird. It sure was a strange one. A bit larger that a blackbird, but cinnamon coloured, with black and white banded wings, a long, slender beak and a feather crest reminding Susan of a stegosaurus. The bird folded its crest onto a long, tapering plume with a black end. It looked at Susan with one of its black eye, then turned its head and looked with the other eye.
Then it opened its beak and squawked Oop-oop-oop.
Susan did not laugh at it, but she smiled widely. "What did you say?" was all she managed. Once again the bird opened its beak
"OOP-OOP-OOP!" it said loudly, clearly impatient now.
"Sorry bird, Susan said, " I don't get it."
And as always now having used all the words in the order they were given, this is where I stop and hope to continue next Wednesday.
The bird in this chapter is an Eurasian hoopoe, a rare guest in Denmark. and the bird of the day on my Birds of Denmark calendar day before yesterday - today it's the blackbird.
- - A - - B - - C - -
Bloglegen Words for Wednesday blev startet af Delores og udviklede sig til en flytbar fest med mange deltagere, der leverede ordene. Da Delores lukkede sin blog for altid på grund af diverse problemer, overtog Elephant's Child (Sue) rollen som koordinator.
Nu, efter Sues bortgang, er det stadig uklart, hvem der vil overtage denne rolle. River gør det i resten af 2025, men måske bliver Lissa vores nye koordinator.
Uanset hvad, hvordan, hvor eller hvem, er målet med ordene at opmuntre os til at skrive. En historie, et digt, hvad end der kommer os i tankerne.
Denne måneds ord bliver leveret af Sean Jeating og kan findes på Rivers blog.
Hvis du poster et indlæg på din egen blog, så skriv en kommentar på Rivers blog, så vi kan komme forbi og læse det og tilføje et par opmuntrende ord.
Det er også en udfordring, hvor det gamle ordsprog "Jo flere, jo bedre" holder stik.
Så husk at følge linkene, gå tilbage og læse andres historier. Og skriv gerne en kommentar, når du har læst dem. Udfordringer som denne trives med interaktion, feedback og opmuntring. Og vi har ALLE brug for opmuntring.
Vi fik disse ord:
Fugl
Vindue
Vinger
Spændvidde, vingefang, omfatte,
Åben, åbne, åbn
og/eller:
Tid, gange
Verden
Latter
Alt
Få, fatte, forstå
Ordene lokkede mig. Jeg havde lovet mig selv ikke at gøre det. Men ... jeg begyndte på en ny historie om Susan. Tidligere troede jeg, at jeg gjorde det, fordi Elephant's Child ansporede mig. Nu er jeg ikke sikker ... Måske gør hun det stadig. Nogle gange følte jeg, at jeg skrev mine historier kun for hende, når tiderne var hårde og varme i Australien. ... Hendes stille - eller ikke såå stille entusiasme var nogen gange nok til at bringe mig til tasterne.
Jeg savner stadig hendes blide tilstedeværelse i blogosfæren ...
Eftersom jeg skriver på engelsk først, og så oversætter til/gendigter på dansk, er nogle af stikordenen uigenkendelige. For eksempel span i dette afsnit. Jeg oversætter det med vingefang, spændvidde eller omfatte, men det kan også bruges om tid, ligesom det gamle danske et spand af år. Det blev bare til i det korte øjeblik på dansk.
En fugl hakkede på vinduet. Først bemærkede Susan det ikke, hun var opslugt af dagens opgave om transformationsmagi og magiske urter. Men da det stakkels dyr også begyndte at slå med vingerne i takt med sin hakken, bemærkede Susan lyden. Hun kiggede op, og i det korte øjeblik, det tog hende at bemærke, at det var en fugl, hun aldrig havde set før, så hun også et par store, grå vinger i baggrunden. Hun sprang op og åbnede vinduet.
Nu havde hun god tid til at se på fuglen. Det var en meget underlig fugl. Lidt større end en solsort, men kanelfarvet, med sort- og hvidstribede vinger, et langt, slankt næb og en fjerkrone, der mindede Susan om en stegosaurus eller en punker. Fuglen klappede sin fjerkrone sammen til en lang, pids fjerting med en sort ende. Den kiggede på Susan med det ene sorte øje, vendte derefter hovedet og kiggede med det andet øje.
Så åbnede den næbbet og skreg Uup-uup-uup.
Susan lo ikke ad den, men hun smilede bredt. »Hvad sagde du?« var alt, hvad hun fik frem. Fuglen åbnede igen næbbet
»UUP-UUP-UUP!« sagde den højt og tydeligvis utålmodig.
»Undskyld, fugl,« sagde Susan, »det forstår jeg ikke.«
Og som altid, nu hvor jeg har brugt alle ordene i den rækkefølge, de blev givet, stopper jeg her og håber at kunne fortsætte næste onsdag.
Fuglen i dette kapitel er en hærfugl, en sjælden gæst i Danmark og fuglen i min kalender »Danmarks fugle« i mandags. I dag har vi en solsort.
mandag den 24. november 2025
Poetry Monday :: Pot of Tea for Two
Beklager, ikke noget på dansk i dag
Poetry Monday - what's that? It is a blogging game, that 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 and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell. We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home.
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt, Pot of Tea for Two, inspired me to write an Epulaeruy - long tome since I last wrote one.
The Epulaeryu poem is about delicious food (The name is, I think, a mixture of Greek and Japanese).
It consists of seven lines and thirty-three syllables.
The form is 7/5/7/5/5/3/1 syllables, and the seventh line ends with an exclamation mark.
We lay the table neatly.
cups, knives, plates, and spoons,
crackers, chese, and haw's jelly,
everything just rigth.
But don't forget the
centre piece:
Tea!
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
Poetry Monday - what's that? It is a blogging game, that 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 and relaxation, travelling the world with her husband as far as we can tell. We just hope she's going to take back over once she returns home.
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt, Pot of Tea for Two, inspired me to write an Epulaeruy - long tome since I last wrote one.
The Epulaeryu poem is about delicious food (The name is, I think, a mixture of Greek and Japanese).
It consists of seven lines and thirty-three syllables.
The form is 7/5/7/5/5/3/1 syllables, and the seventh line ends with an exclamation mark.
We lay the table neatly.
cups, knives, plates, and spoons,
crackers, chese, and haw's jelly,
everything just rigth.
But don't forget the
centre piece:
Tea!
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
søndag den 23. november 2025
Sunday Selections ~ November 23 ~ Søndagsbilleder
Although we've had some sunshine this last week, it's been cold and the skies have only been a watery blue.
-- 🩵 --
Godt nok har solen skinnet den seneste uge, men det har været så lkoldt., at himlen ikke har være rigtig himmelblå, kun vandblå.
On the other hand I picked the last of the flowers from the Fern-leaved beggarticks before putting them into the renovated shed for the winter. I tried an ecoPrint again.
-- 🩵 -- 🩵 --
On the other hand I picked the last of the flowers from the Fern-leaved beggarticks before putting them into the renovated shed for the winter. I tried an ecoPrint again.
-- 🩵 --
På den anden side fik jeg plukket de sidste blonster fra min havebrøndsel, før jeg satte den til overvinting i luksus-skuret. De blev til endnu et PlantePrint.-- 🩵 -- 🩵 --
Fresh from the dyepot - 🩵 - frisk fra gryden:
And dry - 🩵 - Og tørret
-- 🩵 --
Jeg er ked af, at jeg ikke kan få de klare efterrsfarver til at komme over på papiret.
onsdag den 19. november 2025
Words for Wednesday 19 November 2025
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually
taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise River at Drifting through Life has taken over as our new coordinator. Thanks!
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Squad
Cemetery
Flowers
Painted
Cross
and/or:
Barely
Money
Eat
Freedom
Courage
The election yesterday gave the expected outcome. So excuse this dreary monologue. My municipality is as yet undecided, but it'll be right-wing and nationalistic.
The squad I expected to be in, is in and the powers of the dark dance at the cemetery and kick the flowers away. The crosses are painted dark or red and white (national colours of Denmark).
The powers that be share the fame and the money among themselves, growing fat and bloated like the tyrants of old, while poor people barely have enough to buy something to eat.
We need to find the courage to once again fight for our freedom, for the nature, for the needy, and for the future.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise River at Drifting through Life has taken over as our new coordinator. Thanks!
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Squad
Cemetery
Flowers
Painted
Cross
and/or:
Barely
Money
Eat
Freedom
Courage
The election yesterday gave the expected outcome. So excuse this dreary monologue. My municipality is as yet undecided, but it'll be right-wing and nationalistic.
The squad I expected to be in, is in and the powers of the dark dance at the cemetery and kick the flowers away. The crosses are painted dark or red and white (national colours of Denmark).
The powers that be share the fame and the money among themselves, growing fat and bloated like the tyrants of old, while poor people barely have enough to buy something to eat.
We need to find the courage to once again fight for our freedom, for the nature, for the needy, and for the future.
mandag den 17. november 2025
Poetry Monday :: In a Cave
Mandagsdigtet :: I en hule
Poetry Monday - what's that? It is a blogging game, that 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 and relaxation, travelling the world with
her husband as far as we can tell. We just hope she's going to take
back over once she returns home.
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt is In a Cave. Sometimes I think it is too obvious that our prompts are really drawing prompts. This is one of the occasions. But well, Poeming must happen.
I do not often talk politics on my blog, but tomorrow is election day for the local elections.
Election days are per tradition Tuesdays in Denmark.
Sometimes I would like to live in a cave
Tomorrow's election, and we must be brave.
We must venture out, cast a vote on our fave
Alas I am fearful, the future is grave
Too many mean ones, too many to stave
with my single ballot, but I must be brave
If I just do nothing the way I do pave
For evil, pollution and slave.
Hvad er Mandagsdigtet? Det er en blogleg, som Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg har overtaget - midlertidigt! - fra Diane, der slapper af og rejser verden rundt med sin mand. Vi håber hun er parat til at tage over igen, når hun kommer hjem.
Stikordene kommer nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe, der udgiver et stikord til hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være at finde både her og på Mimis blog.
Dagens stikord er: In a Cave - I en hule. Nogen gange er det næsten alt for tydeligt at det er stikortd til at tegne efter, også i dag. Men digtes, ja, det skal der!
Jeg drømmer nu om at bo i en hule
Jeg frygter i morgen, jeg kan ikke skjule
at valget i morgen med alt dets ballade
er over os. Jeg frygter for skade
på marker og enge og fugle.
Det skræmmer en granvoksen ugle!
Det her er et eksempel på det, der skræmmer mig -- 😟 😶 -- This poster scares me
Smuk farve - skræmmende budskab -- 😟 😶 -- Beautiful colour - scary message
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Nov 24 Pot of tea for two
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt is In a Cave. Sometimes I think it is too obvious that our prompts are really drawing prompts. This is one of the occasions. But well, Poeming must happen.
I do not often talk politics on my blog, but tomorrow is election day for the local elections.
Election days are per tradition Tuesdays in Denmark.
Sometimes I would like to live in a cave
Tomorrow's election, and we must be brave.
We must venture out, cast a vote on our fave
Alas I am fearful, the future is grave
Too many mean ones, too many to stave
with my single ballot, but I must be brave
If I just do nothing the way I do pave
For evil, pollution and slave.
- - A - - B - - C - -
Hvad er Mandagsdigtet? Det er en blogleg, som Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg har overtaget - midlertidigt! - fra Diane, der slapper af og rejser verden rundt med sin mand. Vi håber hun er parat til at tage over igen, når hun kommer hjem.
Stikordene kommer nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe, der udgiver et stikord til hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være at finde både her og på Mimis blog.
Dagens stikord er: In a Cave - I en hule. Nogen gange er det næsten alt for tydeligt at det er stikortd til at tegne efter, også i dag. Men digtes, ja, det skal der!
Jeg drømmer nu om at bo i en hule
Jeg frygter i morgen, jeg kan ikke skjule
at valget i morgen med alt dets ballade
er over os. Jeg frygter for skade
på marker og enge og fugle.
Det skræmmer en granvoksen ugle!
Det her er et eksempel på det, der skræmmer mig -- 😟 😶 -- This poster scares me
Smuk farve - skræmmende budskab -- 😟 😶 -- Beautiful colour - scary message
 |
| This message translates roughly to: "There's most of us." The party behind this poster advocates for remigration and more freedom for farmers. I hope there's more of the rest of us, but I really fear for the future. |
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Nov 24 Pot of tea for two
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
søndag den 16. november 2025
Sunday Selections ~ Søndagsbilleder
Dagur íslenskrar tungu
I dag burde jeg skrive mit opslag på islandsk, da det er det islandske sprogs dag, og islandsk, der jo er magiens sprog på Enhjørningegården, altid har haft en stor plads i mit hjerte. Men jeg tror jeg afholder mig, dels ville det nok tage mig resten af dagen, dels ville det nok være så fuldt af fejl, at det ville være næsten ulæseligt.
Så jeg nøjes med at sige til hamingju með daginn íslenskrar tungu - tillykke med det islandske sprogs dag.
Today, I ought to write my post in Icelandic, as it is Icelandic Language Day, and Icelandic, the language of magic at the Unicorn Farm, has always had a big place in my heart. But I think I'll refrain from doing so, partly because it would take me the rest of today, partly because it would probably be so full of errors that it would be almost unreadable.
So I'll just say til hamingju með daginn íslenskrar tungu - Happy Icelandic Language Day.
Tilbage i januar 2024, da jeg fik fjernet min galdeblære, spurgte jeg om jeg kunne få stenene med hjem. Jeg havde ingen idé om, hvad jeg ville med dem, hvis jeg fik dem. Jeg fik én, den største, på 2½ x knap 2 cm, resten var for smuldrende ... men der var mange. Lige siden har den ligget i en pose på mit skrivebord, ligget i vejen, er måske det rette ord, for hvad skulle jeg egentlig med den? Jeg ville ikke bare smide den ud. Endelig i går, da det var smukt, klart vejr, og himlen en fortryllende lys himmelblå, plantede jeg en lægealant i et hul ovenpå galdestenen. På engelsk har planten meget sjovere navne, elvertidsel eller heste-helbrederen. Det tiltaler mig, og nu håber jeg på at blive stærk som en hest 😃
Back in January 2024, when I had my gallbladder removed, I asked if I could have the stones. I had no idea what I would do with them if I got them. I got one, the largest, measuring 2½ times just under 2 cm; the rest were too crumbly ... but there were many. Ever since then, it has been lying in a bag on my desk, getting in the way really, because what was I to do with it? I didn't want to just throw it out after all the trouble.
Finally, yesterday, when the weather was beautiful and clear, and the sky was an enchanting light sky blue, I planted a plant in a hole on top of the gallstone. The plant was an elecampane also known as elfdock or horse-heal. I hope to grow healthy as a horse now 😃
Den historie tæller også som månedesn farve Plantekassen øverst til højre er ikke helt ved siden af i hvert fald
Så jeg nøjes med at sige til hamingju með daginn íslenskrar tungu - tillykke med det islandske sprogs dag.
Today, I ought to write my post in Icelandic, as it is Icelandic Language Day, and Icelandic, the language of magic at the Unicorn Farm, has always had a big place in my heart. But I think I'll refrain from doing so, partly because it would take me the rest of today, partly because it would probably be so full of errors that it would be almost unreadable.
So I'll just say til hamingju með daginn íslenskrar tungu - Happy Icelandic Language Day.
--- 💙 ---
Tilbage i januar 2024, da jeg fik fjernet min galdeblære, spurgte jeg om jeg kunne få stenene med hjem. Jeg havde ingen idé om, hvad jeg ville med dem, hvis jeg fik dem. Jeg fik én, den største, på 2½ x knap 2 cm, resten var for smuldrende ... men der var mange. Lige siden har den ligget i en pose på mit skrivebord, ligget i vejen, er måske det rette ord, for hvad skulle jeg egentlig med den? Jeg ville ikke bare smide den ud. Endelig i går, da det var smukt, klart vejr, og himlen en fortryllende lys himmelblå, plantede jeg en lægealant i et hul ovenpå galdestenen. På engelsk har planten meget sjovere navne, elvertidsel eller heste-helbrederen. Det tiltaler mig, og nu håber jeg på at blive stærk som en hest 😃
Finally, yesterday, when the weather was beautiful and clear, and the sky was an enchanting light sky blue, I planted a plant in a hole on top of the gallstone. The plant was an elecampane also known as elfdock or horse-heal. I hope to grow healthy as a horse now 😃
Den historie tæller også som månedesn farve Plantekassen øverst til højre er ikke helt ved siden af i hvert fald
-- 💙 ---
This story also counts towards the colour of the month. The plant container in the upper right corner is not much off.
fredag den 14. november 2025
Words for Wednesday ~ Father Paul's Second Quandary
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually
taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise River at Drifting through Life has taken over as our new coordinator. Thanks!
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Technique
Think
Taught
Way
Completely
and/or:
Learn
Write
Exist
Reading
Lost
I read the words on Wednesday, and then I took a long, warm soak. Bathing always makes me think. This time my thoughts went to my dear Father Paul from Mary, Allan and the End of the World. But it was not until today I finally found time to sit down and write out what I though.
All this happens years, maybe 15 years after Father Paul's Quandary
Father Paul had begun to feel old. He was the only priest in their settlement. As far as he knew, he was the only priest on all of the Earth. They had found another settlement in what had been the south of Italy, and the Italians had all moved close to their settlement, making a satellite village, where Father Paul went every Saturday evening and did what priestly things had to be done, mostly baptisms and confessions. Early Sunday morning, he celebrated mass and then walked back home in time for mass in the big "town" where all the rest of the settlers lived in small clusters, much like the villages of old Europe. But now he was beginning to tire, and on his weekly treks he was thinking. One Sunday after mass he spoke with Allan and Mary and Tom, the old pilot who had been the rock steady leader of the community for years, but now had stepped down to give room for younger people.
Father Paul scratched his long, grey beard and looked at them: "I have been thinking, lately. We survived the end of the world, didn't we. But if it was the end of the world, what then? God promised to be with us all days until the end of the world. Did the world really end, and am I only a parody of a priest? ... and more to the point, what will happen when I die?"
"You've been doing some tough thinking," Tom said. I am not a theologian, I was never good at discussing fine points from the Bible for days on end."
"I'm no better," Allan said. "I always asked the priest when I had that kind of questions. I always meant to ask you such questions, but I never made it that far. We've been busy ..."
"And now we're old ... " father Paul said despondently. "It's not dying that scares me, I'll happily meet my Creator and Boss," he smiled softly, "But the thought that scares me is: 'what will happen to the world' I feel that, striving as we are, we're only a parenthetical bump on the last pages of Earth's cruel history."
In the end Tom declared a common day of prayer and fasting on the next Friday.
It was Robert who after the day of fasting and prayers asked to have the word. He started by carefully opening Father Paul's worn Bible and reading aloud from Matthew 28.20: "Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world" When I studied - he looked directly at Fr. Paul - you see I had the idea of becoming a priest once too, but then I had trouble with so many things, languages, celibacy, obedience ... that my mentor sent me back home to think it over, I then became a mechanics ... and met Liza, he said smiling fondly at his wife, having her hands full with their children. But we were always reading this chapter as "All days until the ends of the world" - plural, not the end. And tell me - where does the world end?" He looked at them all after his rhetorical question. "No, the world has no ends. This is one of God's jokes." He turned once again to Father Paul: "Tell me, please, does your sacraments still work? Are we still cleansed in baptism, forgiven when you say 'Ego te absolvo', and are bread and wine still turned into blood and body of our lord Jesus Christ upon your word?"
Father Paul rose to his feet and looked admiringly and with gleaming eyes at the young man. "You're right, and what more is, you have put it in terms I, and anybody else can if not verify, then at least feel. Of course we still have to believe, but ... I'm convinced. The ends of the world indeed," He sat down laughing.
Robert waited for silence to be restored before continuing: "And furthermore I was taught that in times of need anyone, even those not baptized, can baptise whomever needs it in any kind of water, only not beer or pee. Am I even right there, Father?"
Father Paul managed: "Water, any kind of water, not beer, milk soup or any such," before he began laughing in earnest. His laughter was echoed from many of the people gathered in the room.
Robert continued: "Really it's no laughing matter, but I was also taught that God understands laughter, whereas the devil does not. So to resume ... In the same way, you are the only priest of the whole world, as far as we know anyway, and in times of need you will legitimately be able to create new priests when you find the right ones."
Robert sat down and Father Paul went over to him, where he sat next to his wife. they spoke together in low voices for a short while, then Fr. Paul went to the lectern. He looked around at the people in the big room, drew a deep breath and said: "Thank you, Robert. Thank you everybody. We have all come a long way from when we thought the world ended. According to Robert it has not, and won't before its time is truly up. Not by any human derision, but in God's own time." He smiled and looked at everybody, they looked back at him, some of the children fidgeting.
He continued: "I'll keep this short. Because still I'm not as young as I used to be, and your propensity to multiply and fill the world is wearing me down. I need help. And Robert just volunteered to become a permanent deacon, able to baptise, marry, and hold sermons. He already gave us a nice test sermon, I dare say. And if anybody has anything to say against him being thus ordained speak now - or at least before next Sunday to me privately - or be silent ever after!"
Here ends this spin-of from Mary, Allan and the End of the World.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise River at Drifting through Life has taken over as our new coordinator. Thanks!
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Technique
Think
Taught
Way
Completely
and/or:
Learn
Write
Exist
Reading
Lost
I read the words on Wednesday, and then I took a long, warm soak. Bathing always makes me think. This time my thoughts went to my dear Father Paul from Mary, Allan and the End of the World. But it was not until today I finally found time to sit down and write out what I though.
All this happens years, maybe 15 years after Father Paul's Quandary
Father Paul had begun to feel old. He was the only priest in their settlement. As far as he knew, he was the only priest on all of the Earth. They had found another settlement in what had been the south of Italy, and the Italians had all moved close to their settlement, making a satellite village, where Father Paul went every Saturday evening and did what priestly things had to be done, mostly baptisms and confessions. Early Sunday morning, he celebrated mass and then walked back home in time for mass in the big "town" where all the rest of the settlers lived in small clusters, much like the villages of old Europe. But now he was beginning to tire, and on his weekly treks he was thinking. One Sunday after mass he spoke with Allan and Mary and Tom, the old pilot who had been the rock steady leader of the community for years, but now had stepped down to give room for younger people.
Father Paul scratched his long, grey beard and looked at them: "I have been thinking, lately. We survived the end of the world, didn't we. But if it was the end of the world, what then? God promised to be with us all days until the end of the world. Did the world really end, and am I only a parody of a priest? ... and more to the point, what will happen when I die?"
"You've been doing some tough thinking," Tom said. I am not a theologian, I was never good at discussing fine points from the Bible for days on end."
"I'm no better," Allan said. "I always asked the priest when I had that kind of questions. I always meant to ask you such questions, but I never made it that far. We've been busy ..."
"And now we're old ... " father Paul said despondently. "It's not dying that scares me, I'll happily meet my Creator and Boss," he smiled softly, "But the thought that scares me is: 'what will happen to the world' I feel that, striving as we are, we're only a parenthetical bump on the last pages of Earth's cruel history."
In the end Tom declared a common day of prayer and fasting on the next Friday.
It was Robert who after the day of fasting and prayers asked to have the word. He started by carefully opening Father Paul's worn Bible and reading aloud from Matthew 28.20: "Lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world" When I studied - he looked directly at Fr. Paul - you see I had the idea of becoming a priest once too, but then I had trouble with so many things, languages, celibacy, obedience ... that my mentor sent me back home to think it over, I then became a mechanics ... and met Liza, he said smiling fondly at his wife, having her hands full with their children. But we were always reading this chapter as "All days until the ends of the world" - plural, not the end. And tell me - where does the world end?" He looked at them all after his rhetorical question. "No, the world has no ends. This is one of God's jokes." He turned once again to Father Paul: "Tell me, please, does your sacraments still work? Are we still cleansed in baptism, forgiven when you say 'Ego te absolvo', and are bread and wine still turned into blood and body of our lord Jesus Christ upon your word?"
Father Paul rose to his feet and looked admiringly and with gleaming eyes at the young man. "You're right, and what more is, you have put it in terms I, and anybody else can if not verify, then at least feel. Of course we still have to believe, but ... I'm convinced. The ends of the world indeed," He sat down laughing.
Robert waited for silence to be restored before continuing: "And furthermore I was taught that in times of need anyone, even those not baptized, can baptise whomever needs it in any kind of water, only not beer or pee. Am I even right there, Father?"
Father Paul managed: "Water, any kind of water, not beer, milk soup or any such," before he began laughing in earnest. His laughter was echoed from many of the people gathered in the room.
Robert continued: "Really it's no laughing matter, but I was also taught that God understands laughter, whereas the devil does not. So to resume ... In the same way, you are the only priest of the whole world, as far as we know anyway, and in times of need you will legitimately be able to create new priests when you find the right ones."
Robert sat down and Father Paul went over to him, where he sat next to his wife. they spoke together in low voices for a short while, then Fr. Paul went to the lectern. He looked around at the people in the big room, drew a deep breath and said: "Thank you, Robert. Thank you everybody. We have all come a long way from when we thought the world ended. According to Robert it has not, and won't before its time is truly up. Not by any human derision, but in God's own time." He smiled and looked at everybody, they looked back at him, some of the children fidgeting.
He continued: "I'll keep this short. Because still I'm not as young as I used to be, and your propensity to multiply and fill the world is wearing me down. I need help. And Robert just volunteered to become a permanent deacon, able to baptise, marry, and hold sermons. He already gave us a nice test sermon, I dare say. And if anybody has anything to say against him being thus ordained speak now - or at least before next Sunday to me privately - or be silent ever after!"
Here ends this spin-of from Mary, Allan and the End of the World.
tirsdag den 11. november 2025
No Poetry ~ and no, MotherOwl has not gone missing 😕
Sorry. I was too busy, and the prompt Dismembered only made me think macabre thoughts, or of the Knights who say Ni! none of it good for any poetry.
I did not draw anything either - it is a drawing prompt first, and I usually draw something with these prompts every day. But not today.
And now it's Tuesday, and I see that I forgot to press "Publish". Double sorry. I promise to be back soon!
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Nov 17 In a cave
Nov 24 Pot of tea for two
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
I did not draw anything either - it is a drawing prompt first, and I usually draw something with these prompts every day. But not today.
And now it's Tuesday, and I see that I forgot to press "Publish". Double sorry. I promise to be back soon!
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Nov 17 In a cave
Nov 24 Pot of tea for two
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
søndag den 9. november 2025
Sunday Selections ~ Søndagsbilleder ~ Colour25
Månedens farve er jo denne skønne himmelblå. Og vi har set mere til den blå himmel de seneste dage end jeg lige havde regnet med. Jeg glemte bare lige at tage billeder, hvor det kan ses at himlen faktisk er himmelblå.
The colour of November is this lovely blue. We've seen more blue skies than I expected these last days, but I did not focus on photographing the blue sky.
-- En valgpåmimndelse til de kommende lokalvalg.
Oh, what a wonderful morning -- -- 𝅘𝅥𝅮♪♩𝆕𝅘𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅘𝅥𝅮 -- -- Åh, sikken morgen så dejlig
Himlen var BLÅ! -- The skies were BLUE!
Himlen var BLÅ! -- The skies were BLUE!
Et fint byt en bog-hus, som jeg mødte på min cykeltur i går. Bogstaverne er i hvert fald blå
-- 📘 --
A nice grab a book, leave a book hpuse, I spied while biking yesterday. Nice blue letters.
-- 📘 --
A nice grab a book, leave a book hpuse, I spied while biking yesterday. Nice blue letters.
Local elections coming up. A reminder to vote -- ❌
Vores busser er også blå, i hvert fald delvist -- 🚍 -- Our buses are blue, partially at least.
onsdag den 5. november 2025
Words for Wednesday ~ Only the Words
& IWSG November 225
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually
taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Dog
Night
Bed
Knowledge
Move
and/or:
Years
Stupid
Help
Craftsmanship
Lost
I might write something later today, maybe it'll be a couple of days ... I don't know. Time and inspiration are both elusive partners.
November 1 question - When you began writing, what did you imagine your life as a writer would be like? Were you right, or has this experience presented you with some surprises along the way?
My answer - This is a question that has a very ... strange ... answer. I began writing even before starting school ;) At that time I imagined myself living in a small, simple house in the countryside, near the woods, with a big garden, where I worked sowing, weeding, picking etc. during daytime and mostly in the summer. I'd spend the evenings and most of winter spinning, dyeing, weawing baskets, woodcrafting, making syrups and elixirs like an oldfashioned withch, and creating stuff and writing.
This is actually not a far shot from how I live today, but the road to here has been more bumpy than I imagined as a young child, and I'm still not a published writer.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are again supplied by Sean Jeating, who thankfully stepped in when our regular supplier was MIA, and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Dog
Night
Bed
Knowledge
Move
and/or:
Years
Stupid
Help
Craftsmanship
Lost
I might write something later today, maybe it'll be a couple of days ... I don't know. Time and inspiration are both elusive partners.
- - A - - B - - C - -
November 1 question - When you began writing, what did you imagine your life as a writer would be like? Were you right, or has this experience presented you with some surprises along the way?My answer - This is a question that has a very ... strange ... answer. I began writing even before starting school ;) At that time I imagined myself living in a small, simple house in the countryside, near the woods, with a big garden, where I worked sowing, weeding, picking etc. during daytime and mostly in the summer. I'd spend the evenings and most of winter spinning, dyeing, weawing baskets, woodcrafting, making syrups and elixirs like an oldfashioned withch, and creating stuff and writing.
This is actually not a far shot from how I live today, but the road to here has been more bumpy than I imagined as a young child, and I'm still not a published writer.
mandag den 3. november 2025
Poetry Monday :: Funeral
Poetry Monday - what's that? It is a blogging game, that 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 and relaxation, travelling the world with
her husband as far as we can tell. We just hope she's going to take
back over once she returns home.
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt is Funeral. This prompt almost gave me the jitters, in this past years there's been way too many deaths and funerals for my liking. I hope this poem is the last word on that subject for a long time to come.
A funeral is a sad thing
but also part of life's ring
We're born, we grow, we multiply,
and one day in our cask we lie:
While you can cry, and do feel sad
remember all the fun we had.
Hvad er Mandagsdigtet? Det er en blogleg, som Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg har overtaget - midlertidigt! - fra Diane, der slapper af og rejser verden rundt med sin mand. Vi håber hun er parat til at tage over igen, når hun kommer hjem.
Stikordene kommer nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe, der udgiver et stikord til hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være at finde både her og på Mimis blog.
Dagens stikord er: Begravelse. Jeg fik næsten nervøse trækninger af det ord. Der har været alt for mange dødsfald og begravelser i mit liv det seneste års tid. Jeg håber det her stikord er det sidste, jeg hører til det i et godt stykke tid fremover. Jeg kunne ikke finde på noget, men så kom jeg i taner om et digt, jeg skrev en forårsdag for snart 17 år siden. Det får I så.
Alt for hastigt med mig løber livet,
bort med mig og hvad jeg er og tror.
Alt for kort er tiden jeg fik givet
til at bo på denne grønne jord.
Hvert minut, hver uge, dag og time
vil jeg bruge, vil jeg passe på,
til jeg hører dødens klokker kimer
og mit bange hjerte går i stå.
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Nov 10 Dismembered
Nov 17 In a cave
Nov 24 Pot of tea for two
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
The prompts now come from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog.
Today's prompt is Funeral. This prompt almost gave me the jitters, in this past years there's been way too many deaths and funerals for my liking. I hope this poem is the last word on that subject for a long time to come.
A funeral is a sad thing
but also part of life's ring
We're born, we grow, we multiply,
and one day in our cask we lie:
While you can cry, and do feel sad
remember all the fun we had.
- - A - - B - - C - -
Hvad er Mandagsdigtet? Det er en blogleg, som Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg har overtaget - midlertidigt! - fra Diane, der slapper af og rejser verden rundt med sin mand. Vi håber hun er parat til at tage over igen, når hun kommer hjem.
Stikordene kommer nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe, der udgiver et stikord til hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være at finde både her og på Mimis blog.
Dagens stikord er: Begravelse. Jeg fik næsten nervøse trækninger af det ord. Der har været alt for mange dødsfald og begravelser i mit liv det seneste års tid. Jeg håber det her stikord er det sidste, jeg hører til det i et godt stykke tid fremover. Jeg kunne ikke finde på noget, men så kom jeg i taner om et digt, jeg skrev en forårsdag for snart 17 år siden. Det får I så.
Alt for hastigt med mig løber livet,
bort med mig og hvad jeg er og tror.
Alt for kort er tiden jeg fik givet
til at bo på denne grønne jord.
Hvert minut, hver uge, dag og time
vil jeg bruge, vil jeg passe på,
til jeg hører dødens klokker kimer
og mit bange hjerte går i stå.
- - - - - - - Coming Themes - - - - - - - -
taken from the 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group.
Nov 10 Dismembered
Nov 17 In a cave
Nov 24 Pot of tea for two
Dec 1 Moles eye view
Dec 8 Peace
Dec 15 Coconuts
Dec 22 Fungi
Dec 29 Sitting on old chairs
søndag den 2. november 2025
Sunday Selection :: October ~ November :: Søndagsbilleder
Ja, der er blevet november, men kun lige, derfor indeholder søndagens billeder både
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
It is November, but only just. My Sunday selection will contain both
the colour of November, and
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
som er novembers farve og
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
som er novembers farve og
the colour of October.
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
som var oktobers farve.
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
som var oktobers farve.
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
Breakfast for the chickens, All Saint's day, Saturday, November 1.
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
Visiting the grave of the Walrus and GrannyOwl on All Soul's day, November 2nd. The turtle is from the grandkids, GrannyOwl liked turtles. The half-melted cat in the background is one she crafted, it's left to melt away. 
-- 🔶 -- 🔷 --
Sunset today, All Soul's Day. fredag den 31. oktober 2025
torsdag den 30. oktober 2025
November 2025 ~
Colour of the Month ~ Månedens farve (Blogtober 30)
While November in my place is a cold, wet and dreary month whit ever shorter days, it's the start of Summer in Australia. I'm going to let Elephant's Child delight us with one of her wonderful flower photos from her last post, Sunday Selections #833, where she once again opened our eyes for the beauty that surrounds us.
-- 💙 --
November i Danmark er en trist omgang, regn og mulm og korte dage, men i Australien er det starten på en til tider meget varm sommer.
Jeg har taget et billede fra Elephant's Childs opslag Sunday Selections 833, hvor hun for sidste gang viste os skønheden omkring sig.
If you need only the colour chart, it's here:
-- 💙 --
Hvis man har brug for en lille udgave, er den her:
onsdag den 29. oktober 2025
Words for Wednesday (Blogtober 29)
The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually
taken over as a moveable feast with many participants supplying the Words.
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are supplied by Sean Jeating and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Cudgeling
Remember
Language
Translated
Coined
and/or:
Dead
Heirs
Between
Existing
Episode
Next instalment in the story of David and the other apprentices. Olav is the youngest of 'The Conspirators' - those apprentices who saved, or tried to save the broom-race. He only joined that group the last day, because Marit and Astrid, his cousins, brought him with them to the small room in the attic where they met. He turned out to be a big asset to The Conspirators, transforming a branch to a key to open the lock to the broom-shed.
As is my wont, I used the words in the order they were given. I did not use all the words, and I forgot translated. Hoping for a second installment.
"He threatened you with cudgelling?" Tage asked in an incredulous voice. Olav nodded wordlessly. The young Norwegian looked scared. After ascertaining that he and Tage were all alone in the room with the door closed, he dared to speak. "I think that he got onto me letting the Conspirators into the broom-shed. And he somehow thinks that I should not be better at transformation than you and Heidi."
"But you are," Tage replied. "Oh now I remember your story. Your mother is not a witch, opposed to magic and all that?"
"Yes, exactly," Olav said with a sigh. And he rambled on, finally having found someone who cared to listen to him: "He also buggers me about languages, telling me that Norwegian is only a Danish dialect, and that my Icelandic is atrocious and that I'll never learn how to cast a decent spell, because Flora, that's my mom," Olav hurriedly added seeing Tage's confused expression, "yes because she's not a withc, and only a no good for nothing charlady." Olav drew a shuddering breath and Tage just waited. "He's even coined a nickname for her, The 'one shot washerwoman' .... Because I'm an only child." Olav added, once again prompted by Tage's questioning looks.
"Olav, I'm happy that you're with us. 'Us' here being the purple team as well as the conspirators. Remember that David is really angry at himself for not being better. I know this is hard to believe, but we have been watching him closely. He's not smart, nor hard-working. He seems smart only because he gathers only those around him being more stupid, or more unlucky. Instead of working on becoming smarter, he's working on making everybody else seem stupider."
"But that's stupid!" Olav said, "sooner or later they'll find out. My mom always say that you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time. She also says that your work is your responsibility and that work is the only way to get better at anything. "
"Your mom is not stupid!" Tage said emphatically. "Maybe you inherited wizardry from your dad only, but you inherited a lot of wisdom and common sense from your mom."
"I'm happy to be one of your team," Olav said
"Not my team," Tage retorted, "our team!"
Bloglegen Words for Wednesday blev startet af Delores og udviklede sig til en flytbar fest med mange deltagere, der leverede ordene. Da Delores lukkede sin blog for altid på grund af diverse problemer, overtog Elephant's Child (Sue) rollen som koordinator.
Nu, efter Sues bortgang, er det stadig uklart, hvem der vil overtage denne rolle. River gør det i resten af 2025, men måske bliver Lissa vores nye koordinator.
Uanset hvad, hvordan, hvor eller hvem, er målet med ordene at opmuntre os til at skrive. En historie, et digt, hvad end der kommer os i tankerne.
Denne måneds ord bliver leveret af Sean Jeating og kan findes på Rivers blog.
Hvis du poster et indlæg på din egen blog, så skriv en kommentar på Rivers blog, så vi kan komme forbi og læse det og tilføje et par opmuntrende ord.
Det er også en udfordring, hvor det gamle ordsprog "Jo flere, jo bedre" holder stik.
Så husk at følge linkene, gå tilbage og læse andres historier. Og skriv gerne en kommentar, når du har læst dem. Udfordringer som denne trives med interaktion, feedback og opmuntring. Og vi har ALLE brug for opmuntring.
Vi fik disse ord:
Cudgeling - bank med køller
Remember - huske
Language - sprog
Translated - oversatte
Coined - slog mønt / udtænkte (et udtryk)
and/or:
Dead - død
Heirs - arvinger
Between - imellem
Existing - eksisterende
Episode - episode / afsnit
Næste afsnit i historien om David og de andre lærlinge. Olav er den yngste af 'De sammensvorne' – de lærlinge, der reddede eller forsøgte at redde kosteløbet. Han sluttede sig først til gruppen den sidste dag, fordi Marit og Astrid, hans kusiner, tog ham med til det lille rum på loftet, hvor de mødtes. Han viste sig at være en stor gevinst for De sammensvorne, da han forvandlede en gren til en nøgle, der kunne åbne låsen til kosteskuret.
Som så ofte før har jeg brugt ordene i den rækkefølge, vi har fået dem. Jeg har ikke brugt alle ordene - og jeg kom til at springe oversatte over. Jeg håber opå en fortsættelse.
"Han truede med at give dig tæv med en kæp?" spurgte Tage med vantro stemme. Olav nikkede uden at sige noget. Den unge nordmand så bange ud. Først han havde konstateret, at han og Tage var alene i rummet og at døren var ordentligt lukket, turde han svare. "Jeg tror, han har opdaget, at det var mig, der lukkede de sammensvorne ind i kosteskuret. Og han mener på en eller anden måde, at jeg ikke bør være bedre til forvandling end dig og Heidi."
"Men det er du jo," svarede Tage. "Åh, nu kan jeg huske din historie. Din mor er ikke heks, men modstander af magi og alt det der?"
"Ja, præcis," sagde Olav med et suk. Og han snakkede løs. Endelig havde han fundet nogen, der gad at lytte til ham: "Han plager mig også med mit sprog og siger, at norsk kun er en dansk dialekt, og at mit islandsk er forfærdeligt, og at jeg aldrig vil lære at kaste en ordentlig besværgelse, fordi Flora, det er min mor," tilføjede Olav hurtigt, da han så Tages forvirrede udtryk, "ja, fordi hun ikke er en heks, men kun en uduelig vaskekone." Olav trak vejret dybt og Tage ventede bare. "Han har endda fundet på et øgenavn til hende, 'engangsvaskeren' ... Fordi jeg jo er enebarn," tilføjede Olav, igen opfordret af Tages spørgende blik.
"Olav, jeg er glad for, at du er på vores hold. 'Os' er både det lilla hold og de sammensvorne. Husk på at David inderst inde er vred på sig selv for ikke at være bedre. Jeg ved, det kan være svært at tro på, men vi har holdt øje med ham i et stykke tid, mig og mine søstre, og så Susan. Han er hverken særligt klog eller hårdtarbejdende. Han virker kun klog, fordi han kun omgiver sig med folk, der er dummere eller mere uheldige end ham selv. I stedet for at arbejde på at blive klogere, arbejder han på at få alle andre til at virke dummere.
"Men det er dumt!" sagde Olav, "før eller senere finder de ud af det. Min mor siger altid, at man kan narre nogle mennesker hele tiden eller alle mennesker én gang, men at man ikke kan narre alle mennesker hele tiden. Hun siger også, at dit arbejde er dit ansvar, og at arbejde er den eneste måde at blive bedre til noget på."
"Din mor er ikke dum!" sagde Tage med eftertryk. "Måske har du kun arvet magien fra din far, men du har arvet en masse klogskab og sund fornuft fra din mor."
"Jeg er glad for at være en del af dit hold," sagde Olav.
"Ikke mit hold," svarede Tage, "vores hold!"
When Delores closed her blog forever due to other problems, Elephant's Child (Sue) took over the role of co-ordinator.
Now, after Sue's demise it is still to be discerned who will take over this role, River is doing it for the rest of 2025, but maybe Lissa will eventually be our new coordinator.
No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. A story, a poem, whatever comes to our mind.
This month the words are supplied by Sean Jeating and can be found at River's blog.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please leave a comment on River's blog, then we can come along and read it and add a few encouraging words.
It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.
So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.
We were given these words:
Cudgeling
Remember
Language
Translated
Coined
and/or:
Dead
Heirs
Between
Existing
Episode
Next instalment in the story of David and the other apprentices. Olav is the youngest of 'The Conspirators' - those apprentices who saved, or tried to save the broom-race. He only joined that group the last day, because Marit and Astrid, his cousins, brought him with them to the small room in the attic where they met. He turned out to be a big asset to The Conspirators, transforming a branch to a key to open the lock to the broom-shed.
As is my wont, I used the words in the order they were given. I did not use all the words, and I forgot translated. Hoping for a second installment.
"He threatened you with cudgelling?" Tage asked in an incredulous voice. Olav nodded wordlessly. The young Norwegian looked scared. After ascertaining that he and Tage were all alone in the room with the door closed, he dared to speak. "I think that he got onto me letting the Conspirators into the broom-shed. And he somehow thinks that I should not be better at transformation than you and Heidi."
"But you are," Tage replied. "Oh now I remember your story. Your mother is not a witch, opposed to magic and all that?"
"Yes, exactly," Olav said with a sigh. And he rambled on, finally having found someone who cared to listen to him: "He also buggers me about languages, telling me that Norwegian is only a Danish dialect, and that my Icelandic is atrocious and that I'll never learn how to cast a decent spell, because Flora, that's my mom," Olav hurriedly added seeing Tage's confused expression, "yes because she's not a withc, and only a no good for nothing charlady." Olav drew a shuddering breath and Tage just waited. "He's even coined a nickname for her, The 'one shot washerwoman' .... Because I'm an only child." Olav added, once again prompted by Tage's questioning looks.
"Olav, I'm happy that you're with us. 'Us' here being the purple team as well as the conspirators. Remember that David is really angry at himself for not being better. I know this is hard to believe, but we have been watching him closely. He's not smart, nor hard-working. He seems smart only because he gathers only those around him being more stupid, or more unlucky. Instead of working on becoming smarter, he's working on making everybody else seem stupider."
"But that's stupid!" Olav said, "sooner or later they'll find out. My mom always say that you can fool some of the people all of the time, and all of the people some of the time, but you can not fool all of the people all of the time. She also says that your work is your responsibility and that work is the only way to get better at anything. "
"Your mom is not stupid!" Tage said emphatically. "Maybe you inherited wizardry from your dad only, but you inherited a lot of wisdom and common sense from your mom."
"I'm happy to be one of your team," Olav said
"Not my team," Tage retorted, "our team!"
- - A - - B - - C - -
Bloglegen Words for Wednesday blev startet af Delores og udviklede sig til en flytbar fest med mange deltagere, der leverede ordene. Da Delores lukkede sin blog for altid på grund af diverse problemer, overtog Elephant's Child (Sue) rollen som koordinator.
Nu, efter Sues bortgang, er det stadig uklart, hvem der vil overtage denne rolle. River gør det i resten af 2025, men måske bliver Lissa vores nye koordinator.
Uanset hvad, hvordan, hvor eller hvem, er målet med ordene at opmuntre os til at skrive. En historie, et digt, hvad end der kommer os i tankerne.
Denne måneds ord bliver leveret af Sean Jeating og kan findes på Rivers blog.
Hvis du poster et indlæg på din egen blog, så skriv en kommentar på Rivers blog, så vi kan komme forbi og læse det og tilføje et par opmuntrende ord.
Det er også en udfordring, hvor det gamle ordsprog "Jo flere, jo bedre" holder stik.
Så husk at følge linkene, gå tilbage og læse andres historier. Og skriv gerne en kommentar, når du har læst dem. Udfordringer som denne trives med interaktion, feedback og opmuntring. Og vi har ALLE brug for opmuntring.
Vi fik disse ord:
Cudgeling - bank med køller
Remember - huske
Language - sprog
Translated - oversatte
Coined - slog mønt / udtænkte (et udtryk)
and/or:
Dead - død
Heirs - arvinger
Between - imellem
Existing - eksisterende
Episode - episode / afsnit
Næste afsnit i historien om David og de andre lærlinge. Olav er den yngste af 'De sammensvorne' – de lærlinge, der reddede eller forsøgte at redde kosteløbet. Han sluttede sig først til gruppen den sidste dag, fordi Marit og Astrid, hans kusiner, tog ham med til det lille rum på loftet, hvor de mødtes. Han viste sig at være en stor gevinst for De sammensvorne, da han forvandlede en gren til en nøgle, der kunne åbne låsen til kosteskuret.
Som så ofte før har jeg brugt ordene i den rækkefølge, vi har fået dem. Jeg har ikke brugt alle ordene - og jeg kom til at springe oversatte over. Jeg håber opå en fortsættelse.
"Han truede med at give dig tæv med en kæp?" spurgte Tage med vantro stemme. Olav nikkede uden at sige noget. Den unge nordmand så bange ud. Først han havde konstateret, at han og Tage var alene i rummet og at døren var ordentligt lukket, turde han svare. "Jeg tror, han har opdaget, at det var mig, der lukkede de sammensvorne ind i kosteskuret. Og han mener på en eller anden måde, at jeg ikke bør være bedre til forvandling end dig og Heidi."
"Men det er du jo," svarede Tage. "Åh, nu kan jeg huske din historie. Din mor er ikke heks, men modstander af magi og alt det der?"
"Ja, præcis," sagde Olav med et suk. Og han snakkede løs. Endelig havde han fundet nogen, der gad at lytte til ham: "Han plager mig også med mit sprog og siger, at norsk kun er en dansk dialekt, og at mit islandsk er forfærdeligt, og at jeg aldrig vil lære at kaste en ordentlig besværgelse, fordi Flora, det er min mor," tilføjede Olav hurtigt, da han så Tages forvirrede udtryk, "ja, fordi hun ikke er en heks, men kun en uduelig vaskekone." Olav trak vejret dybt og Tage ventede bare. "Han har endda fundet på et øgenavn til hende, 'engangsvaskeren' ... Fordi jeg jo er enebarn," tilføjede Olav, igen opfordret af Tages spørgende blik.
"Olav, jeg er glad for, at du er på vores hold. 'Os' er både det lilla hold og de sammensvorne. Husk på at David inderst inde er vred på sig selv for ikke at være bedre. Jeg ved, det kan være svært at tro på, men vi har holdt øje med ham i et stykke tid, mig og mine søstre, og så Susan. Han er hverken særligt klog eller hårdtarbejdende. Han virker kun klog, fordi han kun omgiver sig med folk, der er dummere eller mere uheldige end ham selv. I stedet for at arbejde på at blive klogere, arbejder han på at få alle andre til at virke dummere.
"Men det er dumt!" sagde Olav, "før eller senere finder de ud af det. Min mor siger altid, at man kan narre nogle mennesker hele tiden eller alle mennesker én gang, men at man ikke kan narre alle mennesker hele tiden. Hun siger også, at dit arbejde er dit ansvar, og at arbejde er den eneste måde at blive bedre til noget på."
"Din mor er ikke dum!" sagde Tage med eftertryk. "Måske har du kun arvet magien fra din far, men du har arvet en masse klogskab og sund fornuft fra din mor."
"Jeg er glad for at være en del af dit hold," sagde Olav.
"Ikke mit hold," svarede Tage, "vores hold!"
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