Hobbit Day Hobbitdag

I dag er det Bilbo og Frodos fælles fødselsdag. Det er den dag, der indleder bogen, den dag, hvor Bilbo giver ringen til Frodo og drager afsted.

Jeg har længe gerne villet finde et vinterdigt af Tolkien, men jeg har kun fundet dette her fra Ringens Herre, og det bestyrker min mistanke om, at han ikke kunne lide vinter og sne:

Når vinterkulden tar rigtig fat
og stenene springer i frostklare nat.
Når søer er sorte, og træer er bare,
da er det ondt i skoven at fare.

-- -- -- --


Today is Hobbit day, Frodo and Bilbo's common birthday. Today it's the anniversary of the party with which the book opens, the day where Bilbo gives the Ring to Frodo and set out on his travels.

I have for long been looking for a poem celebrating snow and winter from J.R.R. Tolkien. Today I found this, fortifying my suspicion that Tolkien did not like snow and winter:

When winter first begins to bite
and stones crack in the frosty night,
when pools are black and trees are bare,
'tis evil in the Wild to fare.

Poetry Monday :: Solstice Mandagsdigtet :: Solhverv

Poetry Monday is a blogging challenge started by Diane @ On the Border in February 2017; later it was picked up by Delores @ Mumblings and Jenny @ Procrastinating Donkey.
    Then Dolores took over the hosting duties; but when Dolores left the internet, Diane returned and took over hosting duty again with her and Jenny taking turns suggesting a topic.
    Now Mimi @ Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over, as Diane seems disinclined to take up Poetry Monday again.

The prompts are now taken from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a (drawing) prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog. And they mostly lend themselves perfectly for poeming as well. 

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

Today the prompt is Solstice.  Mayby someone misplaced their watch, or calendar.

Now Solstice is half a year away.
It's equinox we have today:
The day where night and day are equal.
And shorter days will be the sequel -
at least for me, poor northener,
the days have met their shorthener.


Og så på dansk!

Mandagsdigtet er en blogleg, som blev startet af Diane fra On the Border i februar 2017; senere blev den videreført af Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey.
    Derefter overtog Delores værtsrollen; men da Delores forlod internettet, vendte Diane tilbage og overtog værtsrollen igen, hvor hun og Jenny skiftevis foreslog et emne.
    Nu har Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg så overtaget, da Diane ikke synes at have lyst til at genoptage Poetry Monday.
    Stikordene hentes nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe med et (tegne-)stikord for hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være her og på Mimis blog. Og de egner sig for det meste også perfekt til at skrive digte om.

  Jeg har en opfordring til jer: Hvis I læser dette og andres digte via linkene, vil I så ikke være så søde at skrive en kommentar?
  Halvdelen – hvis ikke mere – af det sjove ved disse udfordringer er at modtage andres reaktioner.

I dag er stikordet Solhverv, der er vist noget galt med tidsindstillingen her? Digtet er ikke det samme som det på engelsk, men det tager sit udgangspunkt i de samme tanker.

Solhverv det er ikke nu
I dag er jævndøgn, lille du.
Hvor nat og dag er lige lang.
Fra nu af bliver natten mørk og længere
Vi trænger snart til dags-folængere.

- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -

September 28 Bonfire  -  Bål
October 5 Rocket   -  Raket
October 12 Contents of the safe  -  Pengeskabets indhold
October 19 X-ray vision - Røngtensyn
October 26 Clam
November 2  Big Birds
November 9  Planes

Seasons - Årstider ~ A.B.C.

I've begun sorting through my unpublished blog posts. Some will be posted as is, some will be finished and published, most will be deleted. As I have more that 100 drafts expect lots of crazy, dizzy, angry, happy and hopefully funny posts to pop up over the coming weeks.

An Autumn Blog Cleaning post

Jeg er begyndt på en efterårsoprydning på min blog. Der ligger mængder af kladder. Nogle få bliver udgivet som de er, flere vil blive udgivet efter en omskrivning, og langt de fleste vil blive slettet. Da jeg har næsten 200 kladder liggende, kan I se frem til vanvittige, rundtossede, vrede, glade og for det meste morsomme  opslag den kommende måneds tid. 
    De vil få etiketten A.B.C. for Autumn Blog Cleaning = Efterårsblogoprydning (E.B.O. lyder ikke helt så sjov, vel 😉)

Et A. B. C. opslag

DANSK

  Uglemor synes, at vi burde indføre flere årstider. Det er jo ikke rigtig efterår endnu. Lad os indføre forsommer og eftersommer, sådan at der hedder:

1. Vinter: Det er koldt, mørkt og måske sne. 
2. Vår: det er stadig koldt, men der er vintergækker og andre forårstegn. 
3. Forår: Nu kan man komme i jorden, vi kan så, men ikke sidde ude om aftenen endnu. 
4. Sommer: Man kan gå i vandet og sidde ude længe, der er jordbær og hindbær i haven. Der skal luges og vandes. Varmt og ferie. 
5. Eftersommer/Høst: Korn, bær, nødder og frugter modner. Himmelen er stadig høj og blå. Det er rart at være ude stadigvæk.
6. Efterår: Nu falder bladene af træerne, det stormer, regner og bliver koldt. Vi finder overtøjet frem igen.

     I dag skinnede solen, og selv omjeg var til forskellige ting, blev der både tid til en tur efter svampe - hvor er der bare mange i år - og en sen eftermiddags-havevandring.

-- 📅 --

ENGELSK

  This time of year MotherOwl always thinks that it is not Fall yet. We need more seasons. In Danish we have some old names, like English has Fall and Autumn.
 I suggest these six seasons:

1. Winter - this one is obvious, cold, dark, sometimes it snows. 
2. Spring - It gets a bit warmer, spring flowers peep through, birds are returning, but it is still cold outside, it even snows sometimes. *)
3. Early Summer - You begin to sow and plant, but it's still not warm enough to stay outdoors in the evening or for a swin in the sea. 
4. Summer - Now it's nice outside. It's a time for leisure and fun, we can stay outside all the time if we like. 
5. Autumn - harvest time, grains, berries, nuts and fruits ripen, It is still nice outside. 
6. Fall - the leaves are falling from the trees, it is windy and colder. You need to put on more clothes to go out. 

Today the Sun shone, it was really nice outside. And even though I was busy elsewhere I went foraging for mushrooms in the woods --  there's lots this year. I even had time for a walk in the garden.

*) for season number 2. Cathy of Still Waters have a fun word: Sprinter. This will make the six seasons: Winter, Sprinter, Spring, Summer, Autumn, Fall

Where did they go, All the Bloggers ... Hvor blev de af allesammen ... ~ A. B. C.

I've begun sorting through my unpublished blog posts. Some will be posted as is, some will be finished and published, most will be deleted. As I have more that 100 drafts expect lots of crazy, dizzy, angry, happy and hopefully funny posts to pop up over the coming weeks.

An Autumn Blog Cleaning post

Jeg er begyndt på en efterårsoprydning på min blog. Der ligger mængder af kladder. Nogle få bliver udgivet som de er, flere vil blive udgivet efter en omskrivning, og langt de fleste vil blive slettet. Da jeg har næsten 200 kladder liggende, kan I se frem til vanvittige, rundtossede, vrede, glade og for det meste morsomme  opslag den kommende måneds tid. 
    De vil få etiketten A.B.C. for Autumn Blog Cleaning = Efterårsblogoprydning (E.B.O. lyder ikke helt så sjov, vel 😉)

Et A. B. C. opslag

DANSK
Der er så mange mennesker omkring mig - både i den nærmere, fysiske omkreds og ude i internettets mang afkroge - der bliver ramt af uhelbredelige sygdomme, uheld, død, og ulykker. Det, den tilstundende vinter og livets almindelige ugunst har gjort mig forstemt.
     I går satte jeg mig ned for at rydde op på bloggen, og fik i den anledning fat i mine gamle blogrolls med links til alle mulige blogs, jeg fulgte levende med i engang. For da jeg begyndte at blogge, den 31. januar 2012, var blogospheren et myldrende sted.
    Det er den ikke længere. for der er mange, man bare ikke hører fra længere. Hvis jeg kigger på gamle blogrolls, forundres jeg. Det jeg forundres over, er så mange, der ikke siger farvel?
- Der er selvfølgelig bloggere der siger farvel og så stopper med at blogge.
- Nogle er døde og enten de selv eller deres efterladte har sat et sidste punktum. 
- Få er kronisk syge, og energien til at fortsætte er der bare ikke, efter et par forsøg, der kan læses som farvel stopper det bare - og det er helt OK.
- Men det store flertal ... de forsvinder bare i et tomrum, uden farvel, uden forklaring, uden noget. Nogle blogge bliver efterhånden overtaget af sære hjemmesider, men langt de fleste ligger der endnu. Der er så en sidste blogpost i 2020, 2023, 2025, med titler som: I morgen, Nyt projekt, Ventetid, Lige om lidt, ... Eller måske allerunderligst: Hej igen ...
Kunne men ikke forestille sig at skrive et farvel-indlæg?
      Jeg har ikke lyst til at lede efter folk på FB eler Insta. Mit forhold til FB er lidt anstrengt ... det er for svært at få lov til at se, hvad jeg gerne vil se, i stedet for det FB gerne vil vise mig. Jeg elsker mine grupper der, med inspiration, hjælp og støtte til kreative projekter af enhver art. Og jeg kan også se berettigelsen af Messenger - der kan man lige smide en hurtig besked. Men på grund af FBs algoritmer er det ikke der man kan følge sine venners liv uden at gøre en overmenneskelig indsats.
      Instagram ... de bliver ved med at slette min konto, fordi jeg overtræder deres retningslinjer (4 eller 5 gange allerede). Det er lidt komisk, for jeg har ikke en Smartphone, så jeg lægger ikke billeder op i tide og utide, jeg følger mine venner og børn og til dels deres venner, og smider dem et like eller en smiley i ny og næ. Og det er åbenbart helt galt?

      Men jeg synes faktisk også at en blog kan noget andet og mere. På en blog kan man læse i ro og mag, føle at man lærer andre mennesker bare lidt at kende, og følge deres liv gennem længere tid. Det bliver stående på en anden måde, lidt som en bog.
      Og på en eller anden måde synes jeg at vinden er ved at vende. At flere forlader Instagram og vender tilbage til bloggeriet. Det håber jeg altså er rigtigt, og jeg har tænkt mig at gøre en indsats for at komme ind i den danske blogosfære igen.
      Derfor har jeg besluttet mig for to tiltag:
- Alle mine blogindlæg bliver nu igen tosprogede dansk/engelsk med ganske få, helt specifikke undtagelser.
- Jeg har oprettet en ny blogliste med alle de danske bloggere, jeg har fundet (forslag modtages med tak!), så jeg bedre kan følge med - den vil forhåbentlig gro i den kommende tid - så vil jeg læse flere af dem og kommentere på flere af dem, og håbe på bare en lille sneboldeffekt.

-- 🖊 --

ENGLISH
There are so many people around me – in my immediate, physical surroundings as in the internet – who are affected by incurable illnesses, misfortune, death and accidents. This, combined with the approaching winter and life’s general adversities, has left me feeling downcast.
     Yesterday I sat down to have a clear-out of my blog, and doing so I came across my old blogrolls with links to all the blogs I used to follow. Because when I started blogging, January 2012, the blogosphere was a bustling place.
    It isn’t like that any more. There are so many people not blogging anymore. When I look at old blogrolls, I’m amazed. What amazes me is that so many people didn’t say goodbye?

• Of course, there are bloggers who say goodbye and then stop blogging.
• Some have died, and either they themselves or their next of kin have brought things to a close.
• A few are chronically ill, and after a couple of attempts – which can be read as a farewell – they simply stop because they just don’t have the energy to carry on – and that’s perfectly OK.
• But the vast majority… they simply vanish into thin air, without a goodbye, without an explanation, without anything. Some blogs are eventually taken over by strange websites, but the vast majority are still there. There’s that last blog post from 2020, 2023, 2025, with titles like: Tomorrow, New project, Waiting, In a bit, … Or perhaps the strangest of all: ‘Hello again’...

Couldn’t they have brought themselves to write a farewell post?
      I don’t feel like looking for people on Facebook or Instagram. My relationship with Facebook is a bit strained… it’s too hard to see what I want to see, as opposed to what Facebook wants to show me. I love my groups there, with inspiration, help and support for creative projects of all kinds. And I also get the point of Messenger. But because of Facebook’s algorithms, it’s not the place to keep up with your friends’ lives without making a superhuman effort.
      Instagram… they keep deleting my account because I’m doing something against their guidelines (four or five times already). It’s a bit comical, because I don’t own a smartphone, I don’t post photos left, right and centre; I follow my friends and children, and to some extent their friends, and throw them a ‘like’ or a smiley every now and then. And apparently that’s completely wrong?

      But I actually think a blog can offer something different, something more. On a blog you can read at your leisure, feel thah you kind of get to know other people, and follow their lives over longer periods. Blogs stay in a different way, a bit like a book.
      And somehow I feel the tide is turning. That more people are leaving Instagram and returning to blogging. I really hope that’s true, and I intend to make an effort to get back into the Danish blogosphere.
      That’s why I’ve decided on two steps:
- All my blog posts will now once again be bilingual (Danish/English), with very few, very specific exceptions.
- I’ve created a new blog list featuring all the Danish bloggers I’ve found (suggestions welcome!), so I can keep up to date more easily – hopefully it will grow in the coming months – and I’ll read more of them and comment on more of them, in the hope of creating even a small snowball effect.

Words for Wednesday, September 16 :: June, the Solitary Hero ~ 6

Even though our blogrolls are STILL not updating,
River at Drifting through Life
has given us the new Words for Wednesday.

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

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

This month the words are given by River at Drifting through Life

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.

Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

And for today we were given:
Extravagant
Koala
Plane
Charged
Potatoes
Alone
I continue my story about June, the Solitary Hero from here:
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 1
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 2
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 3
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 4
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 5
I used the words almost in the order they were given.

June got up from the chair before the memories overwhelmed her. She walked quickly to the hallway to get her winter-coat in preparation for a calming walk down to the beach and along the coastline. This winter coat was one of the extravagant things Dennis, her movie star husband had given her, and one of the few things left over from her former life. The lousy flat has been cheap, and Dennis was kind of wealthy, they could afford a big car, luxurious clothes, nice things and good food. Life had been good, apart from her parents' unrelenting and undisguised disdain for Dennis.
    She put her hands deep into the pockets, and her left hand touched something soft. She pulled it out, and blinded by tears she sank down on the small bench in the hallway. It was Brian's stuffed Koala toy. It had belonged to Carla first, but she never loved it like Brian did. On that last day he had imagined that it was riding a plane back to its jungle-homeland, and repeatedly rammed Koala into Carla's head and the car seats. In the end she had told him that Koala had to hide away in her pocket until it had learned how to fly a plane. With Koala forgotten in her pocket she had left the car at grandma's and granddad's place. She had walked into the garden with Dennis' mom who wanted a hand digging up potatoes for dinner. Dennis and his dad had walked down the driveway to get a big parcel left there by the mail-man, while Carla and Brian were charged with collecting their stuff from the car. Nobody ever found out how it happened, which of the kids released the hand brake, but suddenly the car began rolling down the steep driveway with both kids inside. Dennis and his dad both were run over by the car, which continued out into the busy street, being hit from both directions, and causing a big accident. Dennis' father, Brian and Carla were killed on the spot, Dennis lay for days between life and dead before he left this world. Dennis' mother had a stroke the day after the joint burial, and never really recovered before succumbing to the next one a few months later.
    June's parents never even once wrote or 'phoned her during this period. She was left practically alone and moved north to get away from it all.

... to be continued, words willing

PÅ DANSK
Denne historie, der er skrevet med udgangspunkt i ordene fra Words for Wednesday - en blogudfordring. Den kan læses i sin fulde længde i fanebladet June

June, the Solitary Hero ~ 5

Now, before the next batch of Words for Wednesday will go public tomorrow, I sat down and used them. I continued my story of June, the Solitary Hero from
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 1
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 2
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 3
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 4
and as I often do, I used the words in the order they were given. The Words were:
Klutz 
Cream cheese 
Twilight/gloaming 
Buzzing 
Trouble 
Dominoes

June had seldom felt more like a klutz. No matter how much she studied, she could not get the hang of the Morse code. Suddenly she remembered the verses she had been taught as a girl scout:
A is for apple, brown is the bough   ·-
B is a bear with three cubs in tow   -···
C is two pins that fell where they stood   -·-·
D is a dagger with two drops of blood  -··
... and so on all the way to Z. The verses were not very good, but easy to remember, and she recited them while cleaning, picking, baking, shining, polishing and whatever else she did that day.

The mail-man arrived, bringing more bills for the house, and she treated him to a home-made apple-and-blackberry pie served with a vanilla cream cheese sauce. He preferred tea to coffee, and June was happy to comply, as this would have been her choice as well. They talked of the former owners, nothing very deep, but the mail-man confirmed that the wife, Anne, had indeed been tiny and fragile and never born them any children, and that Charles had lost the will to live after her death, and quickly descended into senility.

After the mail-man had left, June sat for a while in the garden, and soon the soft, late September twilight descended. She recalled that her granny had called it gloaming. She had found it a depressing word as a child, akin to gloomy, whereas twilight had an elfin sound to it. She liked the sound of that word. Granny had died many years ago, but June still missed her. She was the only person in the family who had understood her liking for languages and the arts in a family of technicians and accountants. She had married a man Granny did not like, and set the while family buzzing with outrage. He had been a movie star in his teens, starring in X-rated movies. When June met him, he had already stopped acting and was the lead singer in a heavy metal band. They had had endless trouble with his reputation and tattoos. Landlords did not want to rent them even the tiniest flat. As if his money was somehow worth less than other peoples'. In the end they had found a shabby flat and there they had lived happily with their two kids until that dreadful day when her whole life fell over like dominoes in a row.

Poetry Monday :: Beach huts Mandagsdigtet :: Badehuse

Poetry Monday is a blogging challenge started by Diane @ On the Border in February 2017; later it was picked up by Delores @ Mumblings and Jenny @ Procrastinating Donkey.
    Then Dolores took over the hosting duties; but when Dolores left the internet, Diane returned and took over hosting duty again with her and Jenny taking turns suggesting a topic.
    Now Mimi @ Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over, as Diane seems disinclined to take up Poetry Monday again.

The prompts are now taken from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a (drawing) prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog. And they mostly lend themselves perfectly for poeming as well. 

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

Today the prompt is Beach huts  which fast turned into Little beach huts, and then this happened. We do have beach huts in Denmark as well, and like almost everything here they are strictly regulated. No enlargements, no additions, no electricity, and no running water. I never really got the point in having a beach hut. After reading more about it, I still do not get it.


Beach huts
Little beach huts by the seaside,
little beach huts made of wood and timber
little beach huts by the seaside,
little beach huts colourful.
There's a blue one, and a green one
and a striped one and a yellow one,
Painted houses made of timber
and they seldom look the same.

But the people in the beach huts
they go bathing just like you and me
All the people in the beach huts
little people, all the same.
There's a tall one, and a short one,
and a thin one and a flabby one.
Little people in the beach huts,
little people, all the same.

Why do people have a beach hut
not a towel just like you and me.
Are the worried we'll see them
we are people - all the same.
There's a short one, and a tall one
And a fat one and a skinny one.
Little beach huts by the seaside
Little people, all the same!


Og så på dansk!

Mandagsdigtet er en blogleg, som blev startet af Diane fra On the Border i februar 2017; senere blev den videreført af Delores fra Mumblings og Jenny fra Procrastinating Donkey.
    Derefter overtog Delores værtsrollen; men da Delores forlod internettet, vendte Diane tilbage og overtog værtsrollen igen, hvor hun og Jenny skiftevis foreslår et emne.
    Nu har Mimi fra Messymimi's Meanderings og jeg overtaget, da Diane ikke synes at have lyst til at genoptage Poetry Monday.
    Stikordene hentes nu fra 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts. Det er en Facebook-gruppe med et (tegne-)stikord for hver dag i året, men bare rolig, stikordene vil stadig være her og på Mimis blog. Og de egner sig for det meste også perfekt til at skrive digte om.

  Jeg har en opfordring til jer: Hvis I læser dette og andres digte via linkene, vil I så ikke være så søde at skrive en kommentar?
  Halvdelen – hvis ikke mere – af det sjove ved disse udfordringer er at modtage andres reaktioner.

I dag er stikordet Badehuse, hvilket hurtigt blev til »Små kabiner«, og så skete det her. Jeg har aldrig rigtig forstået pointen med at have et badehus. Efter at have læst mere om det, forstår jeg det stadig ikke.

Badehuse
Små kabiner, tæt ved stranden,
badehuse, skabt af træ og tagpap,
små kabiner, tæt ved stranden
Så forskellige de er.
Der' et blåt et, og et gult et
og et rødt et og et stribet et
De er malet helt forskelligt.
Det ser vældig festligt ud. 

Men de folk der er i husene
går i vandet ligesom du og jeg,
Alle dem der er i husene
De er mensker hver og en.
Der' en tyk én og en tynd én
 og en lav én og en rigtig lang.
Allesammen er de mensker,
de er allesammen ens.

Hvad skal folk med badehuse,
når et håndklæde er ligeså godt?
Vi er alle sammen men'sker
vi er alle sammen ens.
Der' en lang én og en kort én
Og en tynd én og en lille prop.
Badehuse tæt ved stranden
de kan kun forundre mig.


- - - - - Coming Prompts - - - - -

September 21 Solstice - Should it be Equinox, I wonder.
September 28 Bonfire
October 5 Rocket
October 12 Contents of the safe
October 19 X-ray vision
October 26 Clam
November 2  Big Birds
November 9  Planes

Uniqueness ~ ~ Autumn-Blog-Cleaning

I've begun sorting through my unpublished blog posts. Some will be posted as is, some will be finished and published, most will be deleted. As I have more that 100 drafts expect lots of crazy, dizzy, angry, happy and hopefully funny posts to pop up over the coming weeks.

My first Autumn Blog Cleaning post

If you're a Jew and I do not like you, I might not be an anti-Semitic nincompoop. If you're a woman and I do not like you, I'm probably not sexist. Because maybe it's not your sex or religion what's putting me off.

Maybe what I do not like about you is your political point of view, maybe your ideas about people on the dole, maybe your aggressive veganism, your view on public transportation, covid19, or a zillion other matters?

I never understood the former way of thinking. If it really is only this one thing that's defining you and who you are, I truly feel sorry for you, because we all are so much more ...

Some of our characteristics are immutable, genetic. For example: eye colour, height, skin pigmentation (the colour may change when exposed to the Sun), the ability to roll your tongue, biological gender, the ability to taste phenylthiocarbamide (FTC), etc. ect.

Others are changeable: the ability to speak Esperanto, a fondness for Brussels sprouts, wanting to have sex with men, being able to stand on one's head, knowing how to swim, having a certain job and many others.

The failure of  most ideologies is that they put a magnifying glass on one of these characteristics - be it genetic or changeable - and say this it is what defines me, what I am. But I do NOT want to be defined by this one facet of me. It is not the only one that makes me who I am.

Once, many years ago I was at a "museum" where we were asked to answer 8 simple questions, each asked by a computer, tied to a worktable, where aids to answer the questions were given. I only remember some of the questions. These were:

Are the hairs on your head straight or curly?

Are your fingerprints whorls or waves? (A magnifying glass and example of fingerprint types provided).

What is your eye colour? (A mirror and - I think - 6 different eyes given).

Can you smell this? (Two test tubes, one neutral, one stinky -  to me, but obviously not to everyone)

Are you a man or a woman (Simpler times then, today that might have to be: Are you endowed with 2 X-chromosomes? to be equally simple and unambiguous).

Each question was asked by a computer, and as you put in your answer - the man/woman one was the first - it told you: "You are visitor number 845,372 since we opened this exhibition, and 410,785 were like you". Every time I typed in my answers at one of the stations, the second number plummeted. Until at the last station I was told: "You are visitor number 845,372 since we opened this exhibition, and 0 were like you - you are unique!" And this was with only 8 simple questions.

How come some people think that gender, or religion, or skin colour, or intelligence, or eating preferences, or whatever, is the only determining factor?

June, the Solitary Hero ~ 4

I continue from here:
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 1
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 2
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 3

Still I haven't used any of the words ;) Later, perhaps.

Next day was Monday and June took a bus to the bigger town. She arranged bills with the bank, the water company, and the electricity company. She liked to do so in person, things usually went smoother that way, also this time. She visited the lawyer's office, handing over the envelope to the secretary, and had a new one. Then she went shopping. Her shopping list was short, but had her visiting a book-store, a hardware store, a bakery, and finally the supermarkets. She went home laden with parcels and bags.

That night June dreamt, almost a nightmare. She forgot it as soon as she woke up, but to prevent it from resuming, she went to the window and looked out over the sea. The moon had set, but the stars still shone, some of them very brightly. And some of them seemed very close to the horizon. Then one of the stars near the horizon began moving. June wondered, then chided herself. "It's a ship, girl. Possibly far at sea, so that you can see only the top lantern." As to prove her right the "star" rose a bit and a small green light became visible. "Now look, it is a ship, probably on its way to the harbour just up the coast." But then a long series of tiny flashes could be seen from the ship. "What now. Trouble?" June was wide awake now. She looked at her watch, Quarter to three, in the middle of the night. The tiny flashes paused, as if waiting for an answer, then resumed. June guessed at some sort of code. The flashes stopped again, and June padded to the bathroom, where the window looked out over the woods. And she saw the answering flashes. Close by, in the woods, and clear. She swore softly. She had not yet installed her usual bathroom paper and pencil, even though she had bought the pencils and a notebook at the book-store. She placed two old candlesticks so that the flashes were framed by them. Then she went back to the bedroom.
But the ship was now heading for the harbour, and soon its top light was once again invisible. She stayed for a bit at the window. More lanterns became visible and disappeared on their way to the harbour. No wonder. It was a busy place, and many fishers still sailed the seas, fishing in the night. June crept back into bed. As sleep once again claimed her, she realised that the code had probably been Morse, plain and simple. She had known Morse long ago. Time for a brush up.

... to be continued

BLOGGER for &%¤#"!!s sake!!

My blogroll has not updated for three days now.

Sorry everybody, I'll try and visit, but visiting is a bit of a bother when I can't see if there's anything new anywhere!

Words for Wednesday September 9 (2) :: June, the Solitary Hero ~ 3

I have written an inordinate amount of story - still not using anything but: My house has many rooms, some are less immaculate than others.
I had to continue the story about June, my solitary hero. I do not know yet if anything will ever come off it, but it's fun trying to write about a hero relying only on her own powers. I never did that before, there's always been friends, family an allies for even my most "alone" heroes. I have to continually stop myself from letting her befriend somebody, find an unexpected ally and so on ... I suppose this exercise will do me good, but will it make for a good story? Only time will tell. 

I continue from here:
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 1
June, the Solitary Hero  ~  Part 2

The next few days June was an explorer in her new house and its surroundings. The largest part of the gardens stretched away from the house towards the woods, and every day she discovered new plants, shrubs or berries. It had been well kept but was now a half jungle. Somebody had mowed the tiny lawns here and on the beach side of the house, and cut the hedges, but everything else was growing how and where it liked. June thought she would like to see the garden during all seasons before she really began doing anything, but the blackberries were taking over the path to the woods, they had to be kept at bay. In the shed she found a delicious pair of goatskin gauntlets, white and supple from wear. They were a tad too big for her tiny hands. "Charles must have been a very small man," she thought to herself. "My hands are not big, heck I'm not big, and I mostly fit what I find in this house." Thinking this, her eyes fell on the pruning shears. Just the ones she would have bought for herself, and the adjustable handles were set to fit her grip.
    She attacked the brambles, and after a long morning the way into the woods was once more clear. The afternoon saw her cutting up the vines and making a small compost heap in a remote corner. As far as she could see, nothing grew there. She added all the dead houseplants and the muck from the gutters. Before sunset she had time for a small walk in the woods, and there she found mushrooms and wild blackberries and an old tree with bees living in it. She picked a few of the mushrooms, tasted the blackberries and let the bees alone. Dinner with mushrooms and herbs from the garden was delicious.
    Next day it rained, and June lit the lights, repaired the one lamp that did not work, and cleaned the upstairs living room. All the papers in the big cupboard were spread on the table, and she sat to work sorting them. She decided to save a few of the photos and papers belonging to Charles O'Connor. She had a vague idea of making a memorial scrap book or something. After all she could thank him -- and his wife too, June learned from the photos -- for this wonderful house. None of them had been big, the wife even positively tiny. This had to be the explanation for the gloves fitting her, and the shears and several other things. She found no photos of children or any other relatives. A few photos from outings with old classmates and co-workers, Charles's wife had been a nurse, she saw. And here, four years ago, she found photos of Charles at her burial. Well, one mystery solved. A small box of photos, letters, and documents went on the top shelf of the newly cleaned cupboard, the rest she brutally stuffed into a plastic bag and carried out into the shed. Then she removed the carpets, vacuumed and washed the floor, the small tables, the small lamps, the plant-stands and windowsills.
    She washed the living room floors twice more the following day. Finally they were clean. The big cupboard was too big for her to move, but all other furniture was moved out of the way and back again. In the afternoon she rearranged the things to her satisfaction. The big table was placed under a window, and stuffed chairs and Moroccan pouffes were placed in a cosy group almost opposite the door.

Downstairs was easier. She had already tackled the bathroom and scrubbed the kitchen surfaces.

... to be continued

I still have all the words left over:
Klutz 
Cream cheese 
Twilight/gloaming 
Buzzing 
Trouble 
Dominoes
And this is where I most of all miss Elephant's Child. Her enthusiasm and impatience for the next bit often spurred me on when nothing else could.

Words for Wednesday September 9 :: June, the Solitary Hero - 2

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

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

This month the words are given by River at Drifting through Life

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.

Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

And for today we were given:
Klutz 
Cream cheese 
Twilight/gloaming 
Buzzing 
Trouble 
Dominoes
     and/or:
Her/My house has many rooms, some are less immaculate than others.

I had to continue the story about June, my solitary hero from last week. I do not know yet if anything will ever come off it, but it's fun trying to write about a hero relying only on her own powers. I never did that before, there's always been friends, family an allies for even my most "alone" heroes, even the time-travelling Peter had allies almost from day one. I have to continually stop myself from letting her befriend somebody, find an unexpected ally and so on ... I suppose this exercise will do me good, but will it make for a good story? Only time will tell. 

I continue from here:
June, the Solitary Hero ~  Part 1

And I can use the sentence: Her house has many rooms, some are less immaculate than others as a motto for this tale. I used none of the other words, maybe later this week.

* * *

Next morning June woke up quite late. For the first time in years, she had slept through the night. After she had taped the shutters fast with the green tape, the night had been dark and silent. It was a whole new feeling. She felt rested and energetic. After a leisurely breakfast of freshly picked blackberries sprinkled upon the yoghurt-and-granola that was her staple, and a nice cup of steaming hot tea she was ready for anything.
    First on the list were the gutters. The real estate agent had warned her that the house while totally healthy, was sorely neglected as it had not been tended to for almost three years.
    Cleaning the windows, discarding dead plants, and scrubbing kitchen and bathroom had taken up the first day in her new house, and cleaning and rearranging the bedroom all of the second. But today the sun was out in splendour, it was time to do some outdoor works before autumn and the rains came.
    She found the ladder on its hooks behind the shed. She had taken over practically everything from the former owner, a retired accountant with no known relatives. She had thrown out beddings, mattresses, personal items, and most of the clothes, but kept almost anything else. The retiree had obviously been a tidy person but gone quickly downhill before his demise. All the heavy stuff was where it was supposed to be, but lighter items like plates, pots and pans, kitchen and work utensils from the house were often misplaced.
    She leaned the ladder against the wall and climbed up. The gutters sure needed a cleaning. She threw big flakes of blackish muck to the ground, and using a garden trowel she was scraping out the last of the debris from the sunwards sprout when she heard the gate to the road open ... it could do with an oiling. Dressed as she was in one of the former inhabitant's worn shirts and with her hair tied back under an old straw hat, she obviously looked enough like him to deceive the mail-man. He started and hailed her with the former occupant's name: "Hey Charles, I see that the rumours of your death were greatly exaggerated."
    She turned around, and the mail-man realised his blunder: "Sorry, Ma'am. Are you the new owner?"
    "Yes," she said. "I'm June Cullen, How do you do?"
    "Nice to meet you, Ms. Cullen. I have a letter for you and some for Charles ... what'll I do with them, now?"
    "I have the address of his lawyer if you want to take care of it. Or you can leave them in the big envelope on the dresser in the hall. Then I'll deliver them to him when I next go to town."
    "You'd better take them and better take a look at some of them. There's bills too, and maybe you should do something about them. I'll put them into the big envelope for you."
    "Thanks," June said, "I'm neither fit for company, nor letters today, I promise better next time."
    The mail-man looked at her and sent her a lopsided smile: "You could have done better. See you in a week's time."
    June finished her job by pouring a pail of water into the gutters. It cleaned away the last of the muck and drained nicely down the spout. Satisfied she climbed down.
    Entering the house, she caught a glimpse of herself in a mirror and had to laugh. The mail-man was right. She could surely have done better. Her face was striped and splotched with black muck from the gutters, same as her shirt and hands. The straw hat sat askew, and her trousers were wet and torn. She could do with a bath.
    "I did not even ask him his name," June thought to herself. "Next Wednesday I'll have a cup of coffee and a cake ready for him. I really was impolite today. I have much to learn."

... to be continued, maybe

Poetry Monday :: My Culture ~ Not my Poem

Poetry Monday is a blogging challenge started by Diane @ On the Border in February 2017; later it was picked up by Delores @ Mumblings and Jenny @ Procrastinating Donkey.
    Then Dolores took over the hosting duties; but when Dolores left the internet, Diane returned and took over hosting duty again with her and Jenny taking turns suggesting a topic.
    Now Mimi @ Messymimi's Meanderings and I have taken over, as Diane seems disinclined to take up Poetry Monday again.

The prompts are now taken from 365 Days of Drawing Prompts and other Arts group. This is a Facebook group with a (drawing) prompt for each day of the year, but no worries, the prompts will still be here and at Mimi's blog. And they mostly lend themselves perfectly for poeming as well. 

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

Today the prompt is  My Culture which by I do not know which strange byways made me think of My Conviction from Hair. This is at least a big part of my cultural background. Even if the lyrics were hard to understand, the messages in this musical crept under our skin.
As we're allowed to post other people'e poetry as well here we go - I do excuse for the earworm

I would just like to say that it is my conviction
That longer hair and other flamboyant affectations
Of appearance are nothing more
Than the male's emergence from his drab camoflage
Into the gaudy plumage
Which is the birthright of his sex

There is a peculiar notion that elegant plumage
And fine feathers are not proper for the man
When ac---tually
That is the way things are
In most species

I still can add and imbed YouTube videos, I hope this plays.

- - - - - Coming Prompts - - - - -

September 14 Beach huts
September 21 Solstice
September 28 Bonfire
October 5 Rocket
October 12 Contents of the safe
October 19 X-ray vision
October 26 Clam

Sunday Selection :: Colour26 Taknemmelig ~ Thankful

Her er månedens farve. Det er ikke en farve, jeg holder af, og derfor der der ikke mange ting omkring mig, der har den farve. Jeg var barn og ung i 1970erne, hvor alt jo skulle være orange eller brunt. Jeg afskyede de farver dengang, med tiden er jeg blevet mere tolerant, men det bliver aldrig en farve, jeg vælger frivilligt.
    Jeg har dog én elsket ting, der har netop denne farve. Det er praktisk, for så er den nemmere at finde, når jeg forlægger den, hvilket sker hyppigt.

 -- 🔸🔶🔸 --

That's the colour of the Month. It is so not my colour. I was a child in the 1970es, where everything was either orange or brown. I detested orange back then. Since then I've become a bit more tolerant. But it's still very far from a colour I ever would buy.

I have however one beloved item in this exact colour. It's practical and it makes it far easier to me to find this item when I misplace it. A frequently happening thing.

Den der hobbykniv. Jeg har haft den i mindst 30 år. Af og til har den været væk i lange perioder, men jeg har altid fundet den igen. Den er meget solid og god. Jeg tror, den holder mit liv ud hvis jeg ikke får smidt den helt væk.

 -- 🔸🔶🔸 --

This here utility knife. I've had for around 30 years. Now and then I've misplaced it. Often for long periods, but it has always returned. It's handy and durable. I think it'll last as long as I do - if I don't seriously misplace it.

 -- 🔸🔶🔸 --

Og så er jeg mega-taknemmelig. Skribenten blev væltet af et æsel, da han var på vej hjem på cykel. Han slap med en brækket arm!

 -- 🔸🔶🔸 --

And a HUGE thankful. Hubby was run down by a donkey while biking home today. Luckily he only broke an arm.

Fredagsfrustration :: Digital tvang og fusk Friday Frustration :: Digitalization and Cheating

Her i Uglebo, Helsinge og omegn udkommer der en lokalavis, Ugeposten. Der har været et evigt bøvl med den. På skift fik vi enten ingen avis eller to eksemplarer. Eller en avis og alle reklamer, selvom vi har været tilmeldt Nej Tak siden det blev indført.  Efter at jeg opgav at brokke mig sidste efterår har vi ikke fået avisen. Så pludselig har vi fået den igen de sidste fire-fem uger, hver uge, til tiden og endog uden reklamer. Jeg undrede mig. Og der var da også en skummel bagtanke, for i sidste uge fik vi denne henvendelse sammen med avisen.

--  @ --

Here in the Owlery and the surrounding area, we have a local newspaper called Ugeposten. I've had an epic fight with them these last couple of year. We’d either get no paper at all or two copies for a couple of weeks. Then we had one paper, but also all the ads for local shops and so on - a thing you can opt out from, which we did and a sticker on our mailbox clearly states this. Then we had the paper for a couple of weeks, then no more and then I gave up complaining.
    After I gave up complaining last autumn, we haven’t received it at all. Then suddenly it was in the mailbox, regularly, on time, and even without any ads. I was puzzled. And there was indeed a hidden agenda, because last week we received this letter along with the paper.

If you want the local paper from now on, you'll have to opt in for ads.
At least five a week.

Prøv lige at se bare lidt grundigere på valgmulighederne:

• Hvis man ikke gør noget, bliver man tilmeldt alle reklamer osv.
• Hvis man vil modtage udvalgte reklamer, er der en QR kode og en netadresse, man kan bruge.
  
• Hvis man vil melde fra, er der kun en QR kode
  

... det er dæleme smart. Alle dem, der ikke har en SmartPhone, eller bare ikke kan finde ud af at scanne en QR-kode, bliver nu automatisk tilmeldt alle reklamer.

--  @ --

Let's take a closer look at the options we're given:
    If you do nothing, you’ll be signed up for all ads, papers and what else.
    If you want to receive five selected adverts and the newspaper, there’s a QR code and a web address you can use.
    If you want to opt out, there’s only a QR code

... that’s bloody clever. Anyone who doesn’t own a smartphone, or can’t find out how to scan a QR code, will now automatically be signed up for the whole caboodle.

 --  📰  --

Jeg skrev til den e-posadresse, der er angivet nederst i henvendelsen - lokalavisplus@afk.dk - og fik besked fra Mailsystemet: Mailadressen blev ikke fundet.

Her går det godt. Jeg må finde ud af, hvordan man så afmelder sig. Der er reklamer nok i den lokalavis. Vi behøver ikke flere, og lever også fint uden avisen, som vi som sagt heller ikke har fået i lange perioder det seneste år ... den kan også hentes gratis mange steder i omegnens supermarkeder.

 --  📰  --

I wrote to the email address given at the bottom of the notice – lokalavisplus@afk.dk – and received a message from the email system: ‘Email address not found’.

Things are really fine ... or maybe not
    I’ll have to find out how to unsubscribe. There’s enough advertising in that local paper as it is. We don’t need any more, and we’re getting by just fine without the paper, which, as I said, we haven’t received for long periods up until now, and I can pick it up in many of the local supermarkets when I go shopping anyway.

 --  📰  --

En e-mail korrespondance med en åleglat fyr fra Lokalavisplus gav mig den ønskede netadresse:
Nej tak til det hele
Mit spørgsmål om hvorfor det ikke stod i brevet, fik jeg aldrig svar på.

--  @ --

An email exchange with a slick guy from Lokalavísplus gave me the web address I wanted:
No thanks to all of it
I never received a reply to my question as to why this wasn’t mentioned in the letter in the first place.

 --  📰  --

Så var jeg nysgerrig nok til at gå ind og se på det sted, hvor man kunne tilmelde sig fem reklamer for at få Ugeposten fremover (mit postnummer er 3200). Det er rigtig smart sat op. Se bare her. Først er der alle de mestendels lokale supermarkeder. Let og overskueligt. Og man skal naturligvis klikke på alle dem, man ikke vil have for at fravælge dem.

--  @ --

Curious me looked at the "choose five ads" site as well. It's very cleverly made. If you want to try, my Zip-code is 3200. First there's the mostly local supermarkets, nice and easy. Note that you have to deselect the not wanted ones.

Nedenunder endnu en grå boks kommer så alle de andre dryssende, det er ikke særligt overskueligt, og heller ikke særligt lokalt.

--  @ --

Under this grey box all the other shops are spread out, not very clear, and not very local either.

Fremover skal avisbudet så huske at springe min postkasse over. Nu får vi se hvordan det går.

--  @ --

From now on they'll have to pass my letterbox without putting anything into it. I wonder what will happen.

Så er det nok! ~ Enough is Enough!

Efter en meget tør sommer har vi nu fået nok. Vi har haft "næsten-skybrud" et par gange, altså 14 mm på en halv time. Markerne er fulde af regn, naboens ridebane kan vist kun bruges af søheste, vasketøjet tørrer aldrig og vores frøsø løber over. 
     Jeg tror det er tid at bringe mit "Så har vi altså fået nok regn"-digt. Det er desværre kun på engelsk, og det har været bragt her på bloggen i let forskellige versioner 10. august 2020, 25. januar 2021, 29. august 2022 og 15. januar 2023. I dag er en god dag til at holde traditionen i hævd.

- 💧 ☔ 💧 -

After a very dry summer, we've now had enough rain!  We’ve had a couple of ‘near-cloudburst’ - that is, we've had 14 mm in half an hour where the official limit is 15 mm. The fields are saturated, the neighbour’s riding arena is only suitable for sea horses, the clothes on my clotheslines just never dries, and our small pond is overflowing.
    I think it's time for a re-post of my "Enough of this rain"-poem.
 I originally published this poem 13 August 2018. But I have published it almost every year since then - today is the right day to keep up this tradition:

Rain!
It was rainy all day. I could hear it all night, as I lay in my bed.
Now everything's dripping and drooping, and dreary and wet.
The brooks are all leaping, the rivers all run.
Every field had its water, every straw had its drink.
But there's apples still ripening and berries, I think.
So please, pretty please, can I have back the Sun!

(also published in slightly varying versions August 10 2020,
January 25 2021, August 29, 2022, and January 15, 2023)

But look at the Forecast. It's even (almost all) in English - more rain to come!
Sunday will be halfway decent, then the rains return.

Words for Wednesday and IWSG September 2 ~ Part Two.

• Yesterday was Wednesday.
• Yesterday I published my story using the first batch of the Words for Wednesday supplied by Mimi @ Messymimi's Meanderings .
• Yesterday was also IWSG (Insecure Writers' Support Group)'s 15th anniversary.
• Yesterday I answered their monthly question, as I have done 54 times before, since December 2021. This makes it only five first Wednesdays where I have not answered that question. Once because I had nothing to say, the other four because I was too busy and forgot.

• Today I visited some of the other participants in the IWSG bloghop.
• Today I read J. Lenni Dorner's IWSG post saying:
  Question: Do you have a favorite character archetype you tend to gravitate toward in your writing?
  Answer The Ally: A loyal friend who helps the hero on their path.
• Today I replied:
  Allies, or friends, make great characters. I could not write a text without one. Now I think I'll have to try. Thanks for the challenge 😉
• Today I still had the second batch of Words left over from yesterday's Words for Wednesday.
• Today I used them for a start of my tale of June, the solitary hero.

Taped
Cream
Moonlit
Beach
Soft
Salty

June taped the shutters in place with broad, green tape. They would not wake her up again tonight. The green tape made a nice contrast to the cream coloured curtains and the newly painted white window frames and shutters. Then she stood in the moonlit garden, looking at her small house situated between the woods and the sandy beach. The garden looked mysterious in the moonlight and the low hedges framed it perfectly. The gates were shut, but easy to open even for a person of slight stature like herself, even for a child.
    It was the house of her dreams. But, a soft voice whispered in her head, that dream did not entail her living all alone in it, with no allies, no friends, not even any family, and with only a slight hope of finding any.
    The salty breeze from the sea mixed with her streaming tears.
 

... to be continued, maybe

Words for Wednesday, September 2 & IWSG Happy Fifteenth Anniversary

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

No matter what, how, where or who the aim of the words is to encourage us to write. Poems, stories, subtitles, tales, jokes, haiku, crosswords, puns, ... you're the boss.
Use all Words, some Words, one Word, or even none of them if that makes your creative juices flow. Anything goes, only please nothing rude or vulgar.

This month the words are given by Mimi @ Messymimi's Meanderings and can be found there and at River's blog: Drifting through Life

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

It is also a challenge, where the old saying "The more the merrier" holds true.

So Please, remember to follow the links, go back and read other peoples' stories. And please leave a comment after reading. Challenges like this one thrives on interaction, feedback and encouragement. And we ALL need encouragement.

And for today we were given:
1.bowed 
2.snoring 
3.barefoot 
4.tears 
5.memory 
6.swamped

and/or:

1.taped 
2.cream 
3.moonlit 
4.beach
5.soft 
6. salty

Back in January 2020, I ended a long story about Allan, Mary and the end of the World. Since then I've returned now and then and wrote what came to my mind to flesh out the story and fill the holes. In June I told a bit more about Fr. Paul. In  April '21 I added a longish tale about the survivors from Wieliczka, and later a second bit about Fr. Paul joined the collection in May '25
    All of the story can be read in one long go by choosing the tab "Mary & Allan" in the top of this blog.
    This is one more episode. We're back to one of the first springs after the end of the world, a beautiful, busy May morning. I used the first batch of words in the order they were given.

Allison, the biologist, stood bowed over the tubs inside the greenhouse brush in hand. It was a wonderful early spring morning. The sun was shining from a luminous blue sky, the flowers were opening, smelling divinely, and a bit overpowering in the closed confines of the greenhouse.
    Most of the pollinator team was still snoring after yesterday's strenuous work pollinating the apple trees, but no matter what these tiny flowers needed to be pollinated as well. Brandishing her brush made of the finest, silken hair off the head of the smallest of the infants she softly padded barefoot from one tub to the next. Barefoot was the upside of no insects, having to pollinate every single flower by hand was the downside.
    She had shed many tears over how hard it was to be an entomologist forever out of work. The memory of better days once again swamped her, and made her eyes overflow.

... To maybe be continued.

- - A - - B - - C - -

September 2 question - - Do you have a favourite character archetype you tend to gravitate toward in your writing?

My answer - Yes, my main archetype is the 'mature compared to their age', timid, but knowledgeable type. Susan is the archetype here, but Allan & Mary, and partially Peter from my dream-story comes under this heading.
My second archetype is the off beat type, mysterious competent, but unfit for the time and place they live in. Thora and Gilvi, and many of my other professors in magic are this type, as are Peter, but he has to learn how to fit in. 

 🎉 🎊
   🎈
     🎈
            🎈
And this question marks the 15th anniversary of IWSG: Congratulations to us all?

I am a relative newcomer to IWSG as I joined November 2021. Since then I have only played truant 6 first Wednesdays. This means 54 IWSG-Questions answered, an uncounted number of comments given, read and answered. The crew must have a giant record behind them.

Once again congratulations!