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 X-ray Vision A shortie about one of my favourite child time heroes:
Super Goofy has X-ray vision.
He has this, and he has a mission:
Bring scoundrels in to meet their doom
Keep Duckburg free of crime and gloom.
* * * * * * * * *
På dansk
Røntgensyn. Et underligt vers om en af mine yndlings-superhelte er hvad det kunne blive til i denne omgang Verset tager udgangspunkt i en rude i Anders And & Co. nok tilbage fra først i 70'erne.
Supermule har røntgensyn,
han holder slyngler væk fra byen.
Hans supersyn ser nat og dag.
Engang så så han jorden rundt
på mindre end et splitsekund.
Forbrydere han ikke så
Han svæved' mens han kigged' på
sin egen røde buksebag.
- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -
October 26 Clam - Musling
November 2 Big Birds - Store fugle
November 9 Planes - Fly, høvle, plataner
November 16 Fairy tales - Eventyr
November 23 Earthquake - Jordskælv
November 30 Oasis - Oase/Oasis
MotherOwl's Musings
Uglemors mærkværdigheder
mandag den 19. oktober 2026
søndag den 18. oktober 2026
Sunday Selection :: Søndagsbillede
MotherOwl has been away. This was my view one morning.
Uglemor har været ude at rejse. Det her var min udsigt en af morgenerne.
Another day we were here
En anden dag var vi her
We were on a pilgrimage in the footsteps of Saint Ansgar to mark the 800th anniversary of his departure from Corvey towards Denmark and Sweden.
Vi var på pilgrimsrejse i Sankt Ansgars fodspor i anledning af at det er 800 år siden han drog fra Corvey i retning af Danmark og Sverige.
Uglemor har været ude at rejse. Det her var min udsigt en af morgenerne.
Mariendom, Hamburg.
Another day we were here
En anden dag var vi her
Corvey, Nordrhein-Westphalen.
We were on a pilgrimage in the footsteps of Saint Ansgar to mark the 800th anniversary of his departure from Corvey towards Denmark and Sweden.
Vi var på pilgrimsrejse i Sankt Ansgars fodspor i anledning af at det er 800 år siden han drog fra Corvey i retning af Danmark og Sverige.
St. Ansgar statue. St. Johann-Kirche, Bremen.
lørdag den 17. oktober 2026
Blogger :: Strange Numbers ~ Sære tal
MotherOwl has been away from blogging for a few days. In this short week something has happened. Before I left, most of the posts in some of my other blogs had views below 10, in many cases 0 (zero) views. Yesterday evening none were below 30 views per post. But there's no more comments incoming. Normally the ratio of views to comments on my blogs are 10:1. I think that all those views should have generated at least a few comments over more thn 1000 blogposts - but they did not. I see several scenarios as explanation. None of them likely:
* * * * * * * * * På dansk * * * * * * * * *
Uglemor har holdt en lille ferie fra bloggen, kun et par dage. Men på den korte tid er der sket noget. Før jeg tog af sted, havde de allerfleste indlæg på nogle af mine andre blogs under10 visninger, og mange af dem havde slet ingen. Som i 0 (nul) visninger! I går aftes var der ikke et eneste indlæg med færre end 30 visninger. Men der kommer ikke flere kommentarer, og det undrer mig. Normalt er forholdet mellem visninger og kommentarer på mine blogs 10:1 - det vil sige, at der gennemsnitligt er en kommentar for hver ti visninger. Derfor synes jeg at alle de mange ekstra visninger burde have genereret mindst et par kommentarer på de over 1000 blogindlæg, der er berørte af det - men det er bare ikke tilfældet.
Jeg kan se flere mulige forklaringer. Ingen af dem er særlig sandsynlige:
Bloggers "hjælpefunktioner" og forum er heller ikke til nogen hjælp her.
- Blogger is artificially pumping up the numbers?
- One or more (Russian) spy organisations have begun following my blogs - all of them?
- Blogger is checking out my blogs for forbidden contents after the recent update?
- It's Autumn holidays in Denmark, bored children and adults looking for something new to read?
* * * * * * * * * På dansk * * * * * * * * *
Uglemor har holdt en lille ferie fra bloggen, kun et par dage. Men på den korte tid er der sket noget. Før jeg tog af sted, havde de allerfleste indlæg på nogle af mine andre blogs under10 visninger, og mange af dem havde slet ingen. Som i 0 (nul) visninger! I går aftes var der ikke et eneste indlæg med færre end 30 visninger. Men der kommer ikke flere kommentarer, og det undrer mig. Normalt er forholdet mellem visninger og kommentarer på mine blogs 10:1 - det vil sige, at der gennemsnitligt er en kommentar for hver ti visninger. Derfor synes jeg at alle de mange ekstra visninger burde have genereret mindst et par kommentarer på de over 1000 blogindlæg, der er berørte af det - men det er bare ikke tilfældet.
Jeg kan se flere mulige forklaringer. Ingen af dem er særlig sandsynlige:
- Blogger har kunstigt pumpet tallene op.
- En eller flere (russiske) spionorganisationer er begyndt at følge mine blogs – alle sammen.
- Blogger tjekker alle mine blogs for forbudt indhold efter den seneste opdatering.
- Efterårsferien i Danmark, hvor børn og voksne, der keder sig, leder efter noget nyt at læse.
Bloggers "hjælpefunktioner" og forum er heller ikke til nogen hjælp her.
fredag den 16. oktober 2026
Words for Wednesday ~ On a Friday
Onsdagsord på en fredag
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 Sean Jeatings and can be found 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.
We were given:
Children
Couple
Emancipated
Fun
Idyll
and/or:
Happen
Just
Moment
Peaceful
Things
Yet another chapter in my story of June, my solitary hero - I used all the words, only not Emancipated, in the order they were given.
Sanne, Jonah and their children lived in an old two storey house. It had been the home of a couple of peasant families working on the farm from which the plot was taken. Some years ago the house had been renovated and made into a one family house. The old pantry had been made into a bathroom, and the upstairs kitchen removed so that it was just another room. Also the old living room and one more room had been made into one, making a spacious living room with a grand view over fields and meadows. The house was a bit small for the eight-headed family, and Sanne wondered how two families had been able to live there.The garden was big and worn, with a fun old playhouse and idyllic corners with flowers and vegetables growing side by side. Sanne asked June if she wanted some tea. They drank the deliciously hot tea and ate some cookies that Peter, the second son, had mate. The cookies were not perfect rounds, but the taste was fine.
After the tea-things had been cleared away, and Sanne had answered questions about homework from Daniel, Peter - who was also praised for the cookies - and given Andrew a hand with the dishwasher, She and June looked at the transcriptions, June had made.
"You did a really good work," Sanne said, "transcribing a language you do not know. There's very few mistakes, and the sentences are short and repetitive, making it easy to read. It is tough luck for the smugglers that you happened to move into that house."
"So, you also think it's smugglers?" June said.
"Must be. It's some list over goods arriving, only it's meaningless. Let's take one sentence at a time. This one," Sanne said, pointing to the transcriptions from the first night, "says: 'Chives delivered, blue. Parsley will be delivered Thursday. Green.' That just sounds like some sort of code words for illegal substances."
"It sounds like something out of The Famous Five," June said with a timid smile. "But I must admit that I've been thinking of smugglers as well."
"Smugglers?" a male voice asked, making June jump from her chair.
"Jonah!" Sanne said sternly. "You are scaring the living daylight out of our guest, and you frightened me as well!"
"Oh, Sorry!" Jonah said. "I thought you had heard me coming. I was surprised to hear you talking about smugglers. Peter at work (he said this as if it was one name) mentioned something about smugglers. A friend of his is at the police, and they're having trouble with smugglers. International ones, smuggling in narcotics or something. It is not a secret, directly, but also not a ting they want circulated, so please keep quiet about it."
June told of her findings, and Sanne's translations, while Sanne went for baby Jacob, who had just awakened from a nap.
"Just a moment," Jonah said. "You're telling me that you have seen these Morse signals for several nights, and that they translate via Morse and Polish to messages of incoming herbs?"
"That's the core of the matter, yes." June admitted.
"Come with me into the kitchen while I cook some dinner," Jonah said, "and tell me all about it. Is this OK with you, Sanne?" he asked.
Sanne nodded, "Jacob is a bit fuzzy, some quite will be good for him, and it sounds like you two need to compare notes. Sorry to be such a bad hostess, June."
"I do understand," June said. "One of mine was always fuzzy after a nap."
June followed Jonah into the kitchen. It was big and June just sat there waiting,m while Jonah gathered the ingredients, then she went with him into the peaceful garden gathering herbs and picking tomatoes for dinner. "Normally the children helps me," he explained. But right now there's a movie on TV they all wanted to see. And it'll give us a chance to talk things through."
"Well there's really not much more." June said, and then recounted her sleepless spells, the signals from the water and her visit to the big oak tree, and last night's more furious signalling.
"What did it say?" Jonah asked.
"We did not make it to there yet," June replied. But my guess is more of the same. It's a bit longer, but the parsley/chives words looked like cropping up there too."
"You'll have to get Sanne to translate it after dinner, I take it you're staying. Making dinner for one more when cooking for six already is no trouble."
"I'll stay," June said, "and thank you for your hospitality."
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 Sean Jeatings and can be found 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.
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:
Children
Couple
Emancipated
Fun
Idyll
and/or:
Happen
Just
Moment
Peaceful
Things
Yet another chapter in my story of June, my solitary hero - I used all the words, only not Emancipated, in the order they were given.
Sanne, Jonah and their children lived in an old two storey house. It had been the home of a couple of peasant families working on the farm from which the plot was taken. Some years ago the house had been renovated and made into a one family house. The old pantry had been made into a bathroom, and the upstairs kitchen removed so that it was just another room. Also the old living room and one more room had been made into one, making a spacious living room with a grand view over fields and meadows. The house was a bit small for the eight-headed family, and Sanne wondered how two families had been able to live there.The garden was big and worn, with a fun old playhouse and idyllic corners with flowers and vegetables growing side by side. Sanne asked June if she wanted some tea. They drank the deliciously hot tea and ate some cookies that Peter, the second son, had mate. The cookies were not perfect rounds, but the taste was fine.
After the tea-things had been cleared away, and Sanne had answered questions about homework from Daniel, Peter - who was also praised for the cookies - and given Andrew a hand with the dishwasher, She and June looked at the transcriptions, June had made.
"You did a really good work," Sanne said, "transcribing a language you do not know. There's very few mistakes, and the sentences are short and repetitive, making it easy to read. It is tough luck for the smugglers that you happened to move into that house."
"So, you also think it's smugglers?" June said.
"Must be. It's some list over goods arriving, only it's meaningless. Let's take one sentence at a time. This one," Sanne said, pointing to the transcriptions from the first night, "says: 'Chives delivered, blue. Parsley will be delivered Thursday. Green.' That just sounds like some sort of code words for illegal substances."
"It sounds like something out of The Famous Five," June said with a timid smile. "But I must admit that I've been thinking of smugglers as well."
"Smugglers?" a male voice asked, making June jump from her chair.
"Jonah!" Sanne said sternly. "You are scaring the living daylight out of our guest, and you frightened me as well!"
"Oh, Sorry!" Jonah said. "I thought you had heard me coming. I was surprised to hear you talking about smugglers. Peter at work (he said this as if it was one name) mentioned something about smugglers. A friend of his is at the police, and they're having trouble with smugglers. International ones, smuggling in narcotics or something. It is not a secret, directly, but also not a ting they want circulated, so please keep quiet about it."
June told of her findings, and Sanne's translations, while Sanne went for baby Jacob, who had just awakened from a nap.
"Just a moment," Jonah said. "You're telling me that you have seen these Morse signals for several nights, and that they translate via Morse and Polish to messages of incoming herbs?"
"That's the core of the matter, yes." June admitted.
"Come with me into the kitchen while I cook some dinner," Jonah said, "and tell me all about it. Is this OK with you, Sanne?" he asked.
Sanne nodded, "Jacob is a bit fuzzy, some quite will be good for him, and it sounds like you two need to compare notes. Sorry to be such a bad hostess, June."
"I do understand," June said. "One of mine was always fuzzy after a nap."
June followed Jonah into the kitchen. It was big and June just sat there waiting,m while Jonah gathered the ingredients, then she went with him into the peaceful garden gathering herbs and picking tomatoes for dinner. "Normally the children helps me," he explained. But right now there's a movie on TV they all wanted to see. And it'll give us a chance to talk things through."
"Well there's really not much more." June said, and then recounted her sleepless spells, the signals from the water and her visit to the big oak tree, and last night's more furious signalling.
"What did it say?" Jonah asked.
"We did not make it to there yet," June replied. But my guess is more of the same. It's a bit longer, but the parsley/chives words looked like cropping up there too."
"You'll have to get Sanne to translate it after dinner, I take it you're staying. Making dinner for one more when cooking for six already is no trouble."
"I'll stay," June said, "and thank you for your hospitality."
... to be continued
* * * * * * * * *
På dansk
Vi fik de her ord til i onsdags:
Børn
Par
Frigjort/selvstændig/befriet
Sjov
Idyl
og/eller:
Sker/hænder
Bare/lige
Øjeblik
Fredfyldt
Ting
Endnu et kapitel i min fortælling om June, min ensomme helt. Jeg brugte alle ordene undtagen Frigjort/selvstændig/befriet i den rækkefælge vi fik dem i.
Sanne, Jonas og deres børn boede i et gammelt toetagers hus. Der havde tidligere været et tofamilieshus, hvor de par boede, der arbejdede på den gård, jorden til huset var taget fra. For nogle år siden var huset blevet renoveret og omdannet til et enfamiliehus. Det gamle spisekammer var blevet til et badeværelse, og køkkenet på første sal var blevet fjernet, så det nu bare var et værelse. Desuden var den gamle stue og et mindre værelse slået sammen til ét. Det havde skabt en rummelig stue med en storslået udsigt over marker og enge. Huset var egentlig lidt for lille til en ottepersoners familie, og Sanne undrede sig over, hvordan to familier havde kunnet bo der. Haven var stor og slidt, med et sjovt gammelt legehus og idylliske hjørner, hvor blomster og grøntsager voksede side om side. Sanne spurgte June, om hun ville have lidt te. De fik en god kop varm te og spiste nogle småkager, som Peter, den næstældste søn, havde bagt. Småkagerne var ikke helt runde, men de smagte godt.
Efter at teen var blevet ryddet væk, og Sanne havde svaret på spørgsmål om lektier fra Daniel og Peter – som også blev rost for kagerne – og hjulpet Andreas med opvaskemaskinen, kiggede hun og June på de transskriptioner, June havde lavet.
"Du har gjort et rigtig godt stykke arbejde," sagde Sanne, "det er svært at at transskribere et sprog, man ikke kender. Der er meget få fejl, og det er let at læse, for sætningerne er korte og gentager sig selv. Det er uheldigt for smuglerne, at du tilfældigvis flyttede ind i det hus.”
”Så du tror også, det er smuglere?” sagde June.
”Det må det være. Det er en slags liste over varer, der ankommer, men det giver ikke rigtig mening. Lad os prøve at tage én sætning ad gangen. Denne her," sagde Sanne og pegede på transskriptionerne fra den første nat, "der står: ’Purløg leveret. Blå. Persille leveres torsdag. Grøn.’ Det lyder altså som kodeord for ulovlige stoffer."
"Det lyder som noget fra De Fem," sagde June med et genert smil. "Men jeg må indrømme, at jeg også har tænkt på smuglere."
"Smuglere?" spurgte en mandestemme, hvilket fik June til at springe op af stolen.
"Jonas!" sagde Sanne strengt. "Du skræmmer livet af vores gæst, og du forskrækkede også mig!"
"Åh, undskyld!" sagde Jonas. "Jeg troede, I havde hørt mig komme. Jeg blev overrasket over at høre jer tale om smuglere. Peter på arbejdet (han sagde det, som om det var mandens navn) nævnte noget om smuglere. En af hans venner arbejder i politiet, og de har problemer med smuglere. Internationale smuglere, der smugler narkotika eller noget i den retning. Det er ikke direkte en hemmelighed, men heller ikke noget, de ønsker skal komme ud, så vær venlig at holde det for jer selv.”
June fortalte hvad hun havde set og om Sannes oversættelser, mens Sanne hentede baby Jacob, der lige var vågnet fra sin lur.
"Lige et øjeblik," sagde Jonas. "Du siger, at du har set morse-signaler flere nætter, og at det er morsekode, der på polsk fortæller om aflevering af krydderurter i forskellige farver?"
"Det er det korte af det lange, ja," svarede June.
"Kom med mig ud i køkkenet, mens jeg laver lidt aftensmad," sagde Jonas, "og fortæl mig alt om det. Er det i orden med dig, Sanne?" spurgte han.
Sanne nikkede: "Jacob er lidt hysterisk, lidt ro vil gøre ham godt, og det lyder som om, I to har brug for at snakke lidt. Undskyld, at jeg er sådan en dårlig værtinde, June."
"Det forstår jeg godt," sagde June. "En af mine sønner var også tit hysterisk, når han lige var vågnet."
June fulgte efter Jonas ud i køkkenet. Det var stort, og June sad der og ventede, mens Jonas samlede ingredienserne, og så gik hun med ham ud i den fredfyldte have for at plukke urter og tomater til middagen. "Normalt hjælper børnene mig," forklarede han. "Men lige nu er der en film i tv, som de alle sammen gerne ville se. Og så får vi en chance for at tale tingene igennem."
"Tja, der er egentlig ikke så meget mere," sagde June og fortalte derefter om sine søvnløse nætter, signalerne fra skibet og hendes besøg ved det store egetræ samt gårsdagens endnu mere heftige signaler.
"Hvad betød de?" spurgte Jonas.
"Vi er ikke nået så langt endnu," svarede June. "Men jeg gætter på, at det er mere af det samme. Det er lidt længere, men de polske ord for "persille" og "purløg" dukker vist også op der.”
”Du må få Sanne til at oversætte det efter middagen. Jeg går ud fra, at du bliver til midag. Det er ikke mere besvær at lave mad til seks end til syv.”
”Jeg bliver,” sagde June, ”mange tak for jeres gæstfrihed."
På dansk
Vi fik de her ord til i onsdags:
Børn
Par
Frigjort/selvstændig/befriet
Sjov
Idyl
og/eller:
Sker/hænder
Bare/lige
Øjeblik
Fredfyldt
Ting
Endnu et kapitel i min fortælling om June, min ensomme helt. Jeg brugte alle ordene undtagen Frigjort/selvstændig/befriet i den rækkefælge vi fik dem i.
Sanne, Jonas og deres børn boede i et gammelt toetagers hus. Der havde tidligere været et tofamilieshus, hvor de par boede, der arbejdede på den gård, jorden til huset var taget fra. For nogle år siden var huset blevet renoveret og omdannet til et enfamiliehus. Det gamle spisekammer var blevet til et badeværelse, og køkkenet på første sal var blevet fjernet, så det nu bare var et værelse. Desuden var den gamle stue og et mindre værelse slået sammen til ét. Det havde skabt en rummelig stue med en storslået udsigt over marker og enge. Huset var egentlig lidt for lille til en ottepersoners familie, og Sanne undrede sig over, hvordan to familier havde kunnet bo der. Haven var stor og slidt, med et sjovt gammelt legehus og idylliske hjørner, hvor blomster og grøntsager voksede side om side. Sanne spurgte June, om hun ville have lidt te. De fik en god kop varm te og spiste nogle småkager, som Peter, den næstældste søn, havde bagt. Småkagerne var ikke helt runde, men de smagte godt.
Efter at teen var blevet ryddet væk, og Sanne havde svaret på spørgsmål om lektier fra Daniel og Peter – som også blev rost for kagerne – og hjulpet Andreas med opvaskemaskinen, kiggede hun og June på de transskriptioner, June havde lavet.
"Du har gjort et rigtig godt stykke arbejde," sagde Sanne, "det er svært at at transskribere et sprog, man ikke kender. Der er meget få fejl, og det er let at læse, for sætningerne er korte og gentager sig selv. Det er uheldigt for smuglerne, at du tilfældigvis flyttede ind i det hus.”
”Så du tror også, det er smuglere?” sagde June.
”Det må det være. Det er en slags liste over varer, der ankommer, men det giver ikke rigtig mening. Lad os prøve at tage én sætning ad gangen. Denne her," sagde Sanne og pegede på transskriptionerne fra den første nat, "der står: ’Purløg leveret. Blå. Persille leveres torsdag. Grøn.’ Det lyder altså som kodeord for ulovlige stoffer."
"Det lyder som noget fra De Fem," sagde June med et genert smil. "Men jeg må indrømme, at jeg også har tænkt på smuglere."
"Smuglere?" spurgte en mandestemme, hvilket fik June til at springe op af stolen.
"Jonas!" sagde Sanne strengt. "Du skræmmer livet af vores gæst, og du forskrækkede også mig!"
"Åh, undskyld!" sagde Jonas. "Jeg troede, I havde hørt mig komme. Jeg blev overrasket over at høre jer tale om smuglere. Peter på arbejdet (han sagde det, som om det var mandens navn) nævnte noget om smuglere. En af hans venner arbejder i politiet, og de har problemer med smuglere. Internationale smuglere, der smugler narkotika eller noget i den retning. Det er ikke direkte en hemmelighed, men heller ikke noget, de ønsker skal komme ud, så vær venlig at holde det for jer selv.”
June fortalte hvad hun havde set og om Sannes oversættelser, mens Sanne hentede baby Jacob, der lige var vågnet fra sin lur.
"Lige et øjeblik," sagde Jonas. "Du siger, at du har set morse-signaler flere nætter, og at det er morsekode, der på polsk fortæller om aflevering af krydderurter i forskellige farver?"
"Det er det korte af det lange, ja," svarede June.
"Kom med mig ud i køkkenet, mens jeg laver lidt aftensmad," sagde Jonas, "og fortæl mig alt om det. Er det i orden med dig, Sanne?" spurgte han.
Sanne nikkede: "Jacob er lidt hysterisk, lidt ro vil gøre ham godt, og det lyder som om, I to har brug for at snakke lidt. Undskyld, at jeg er sådan en dårlig værtinde, June."
"Det forstår jeg godt," sagde June. "En af mine sønner var også tit hysterisk, når han lige var vågnet."
June fulgte efter Jonas ud i køkkenet. Det var stort, og June sad der og ventede, mens Jonas samlede ingredienserne, og så gik hun med ham ud i den fredfyldte have for at plukke urter og tomater til middagen. "Normalt hjælper børnene mig," forklarede han. "Men lige nu er der en film i tv, som de alle sammen gerne ville se. Og så får vi en chance for at tale tingene igennem."
"Tja, der er egentlig ikke så meget mere," sagde June og fortalte derefter om sine søvnløse nætter, signalerne fra skibet og hendes besøg ved det store egetræ samt gårsdagens endnu mere heftige signaler.
"Hvad betød de?" spurgte Jonas.
"Vi er ikke nået så langt endnu," svarede June. "Men jeg gætter på, at det er mere af det samme. Det er lidt længere, men de polske ord for "persille" og "purløg" dukker vist også op der.”
”Du må få Sanne til at oversætte det efter middagen. Jeg går ud fra, at du bliver til midag. Det er ikke mere besvær at lave mad til seks end til syv.”
”Jeg bliver,” sagde June, ”mange tak for jeres gæstfrihed."
mandag den 12. oktober 2026
Poetry Monday :: Contents of the Safe
Uglemor undskylder. På grund af travlhed er der ikke noget på dansk i dag.
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 Contents of the Safe. As I'm very busy these days - WfW might have to wait until Friday - I'm in for a repeat.
A bit more than two years ago - August 12, 2024 - I wrote this for the prompt: Cabinet, I hope it works for a safe as well, I reworked it a bit.
Here in my safe I have things on display
Driftwood and gemstones and eggs on a tray
Sea glass and marbles and crabs' claws and stones
Dice of all kinds, stamps, and feathers and bones.
Buttons and postcards and cups with a chip
Bracelets, mementoes and a tiny ship.
Candy bags even, and coins, and a ring
A gold tessera from a graveyard in spring.
All is not costly and nothing for sale,
Many are worn and they all tell a tale,
Memories of places and people I've met
And from a tourney a winners' rosette.
Much of my life is encased in this place,
but there is one thing that it cannot keep safe.
It's something that fits me as well as a glove:
My family that always surround me with love.
- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -
October 19 X-ray vision - Røngtensyn
October 26 Clam - Musling
November 2 Big Birds - Store fugle
November 9 Planes - Fly, høvle, plataner
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 Contents of the Safe. As I'm very busy these days - WfW might have to wait until Friday - I'm in for a repeat.
A bit more than two years ago - August 12, 2024 - I wrote this for the prompt: Cabinet, I hope it works for a safe as well, I reworked it a bit.
Here in my safe I have things on display
Driftwood and gemstones and eggs on a tray
Sea glass and marbles and crabs' claws and stones
Dice of all kinds, stamps, and feathers and bones.
Buttons and postcards and cups with a chip
Bracelets, mementoes and a tiny ship.
Candy bags even, and coins, and a ring
A gold tessera from a graveyard in spring.
All is not costly and nothing for sale,
Many are worn and they all tell a tale,
Memories of places and people I've met
And from a tourney a winners' rosette.
Much of my life is encased in this place,
but there is one thing that it cannot keep safe.
It's something that fits me as well as a glove:
My family that always surround me with love.
- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -
October 19 X-ray vision - Røngtensyn
October 26 Clam - Musling
November 2 Big Birds - Store fugle
November 9 Planes - Fly, høvle, plataner
torsdag den 8. oktober 2026
A-Z of why I still Blog
Uglemor undskylder. Der er ikke noget på dansk i dag.
Over at the A to Z Challenge Joyce @ From This Side of the Pond is guest posting about The ABC's of why I Still Blog. Some of her reasons are sure to be the same as mine. But I want to make my own ABC before I read hers and comment on it.
A is for Accessibility.
On a blog you can always find older posts, photos and even the very beginning.
B is for Blogger.
Despite it's antics and bugs it's still the one that fits me.
C is for Comments.
Without these, blogging would not be the same!
D is for Discovering.
I have seen and experienced so much via blogging. I am curious, and blogging is a way to get an insight in other peoples' lives, that I would never get any other way.
E is for Escape.
When I'm sad, worried or down, reading what you all are up to, fills me with gratitude, wonder and thankfulness over the big world and its many inhabitants.
F is for Friends.
I've made friends all over the world by blogging. If I ever get rich, I'll go and see their cities and places, and maybe have a cup of tea or coffee with them in person -- and raise a glass to Elephants Child at the Kangaroo spot in Canberra.
G is for Gardens.
I love to see what other people are growing in their gardens. Here I get to look over the fences.
H is for Home.
I can stay home while travelling, and invite others to my home without travelling too.
I is for Ideas.
J is for Journal.
My blog is a journal where I can revisit and re-find things I forgot.
K is for Kangaroos.
L is for Light.
Blogging shines a light on life. A light that makes me see things I would not have deemed interesting without this light.
M is for Mother.
I began by following mommyblogs, Moms of Many and suchlike -- from which not a single one is still blogging as far as I know. I learned lots about bringing up kids, homeschooling, and "family management" from these.
N is for Nuances and nostalgia.
O is for Open.
A blog is always open. Just step in! And OWLS. Never forget the owls.
P is for Poetry.
Poetry Monday has made me write more poetry - and read more poetry - than I would have done on my own.
Q is for Questions.
I love when people pose questions in the comments.
R is for Readers.
Thanks to every one of you!
S is for Seasons.
Blogging ebb and flow like the seasons. I hope and think we're soon in for a springtime flood again.
T is for Thankful.
Ten Things of Thankful is a challenge, I do not do myself. But reading others' Thankfuls enrichen my life.
U is for Understanding.
V is for Vocabulary.
One more thing that blogging enhances.
W is for Wonder and for Words and for writing.
Words for Wednesday has had me writing stories I never knew I could write.
X is for Xenophobia.
For which blogging is an antidote.
Y is for Yarn!
Z is for Zeal.
I hope to preserve this for blogging for a long time yet.
Over at the A to Z Challenge Joyce @ From This Side of the Pond is guest posting about The ABC's of why I Still Blog. Some of her reasons are sure to be the same as mine. But I want to make my own ABC before I read hers and comment on it.
A is for Accessibility.
On a blog you can always find older posts, photos and even the very beginning.
B is for Blogger.
Despite it's antics and bugs it's still the one that fits me.
C is for Comments.
Without these, blogging would not be the same!
D is for Discovering.
I have seen and experienced so much via blogging. I am curious, and blogging is a way to get an insight in other peoples' lives, that I would never get any other way.
E is for Escape.
When I'm sad, worried or down, reading what you all are up to, fills me with gratitude, wonder and thankfulness over the big world and its many inhabitants.
F is for Friends.
I've made friends all over the world by blogging. If I ever get rich, I'll go and see their cities and places, and maybe have a cup of tea or coffee with them in person -- and raise a glass to Elephants Child at the Kangaroo spot in Canberra.
G is for Gardens.
I love to see what other people are growing in their gardens. Here I get to look over the fences.
H is for Home.
I can stay home while travelling, and invite others to my home without travelling too.
I is for Ideas.
J is for Journal.
My blog is a journal where I can revisit and re-find things I forgot.
K is for Kangaroos.
L is for Light.
Blogging shines a light on life. A light that makes me see things I would not have deemed interesting without this light.
M is for Mother.
I began by following mommyblogs, Moms of Many and suchlike -- from which not a single one is still blogging as far as I know. I learned lots about bringing up kids, homeschooling, and "family management" from these.
N is for Nuances and nostalgia.
O is for Open.
A blog is always open. Just step in! And OWLS. Never forget the owls.
P is for Poetry.
Poetry Monday has made me write more poetry - and read more poetry - than I would have done on my own.
Q is for Questions.
I love when people pose questions in the comments.
R is for Readers.
Thanks to every one of you!
S is for Seasons.
Blogging ebb and flow like the seasons. I hope and think we're soon in for a springtime flood again.
T is for Thankful.
Ten Things of Thankful is a challenge, I do not do myself. But reading others' Thankfuls enrichen my life.
U is for Understanding.
V is for Vocabulary.
One more thing that blogging enhances.
W is for Wonder and for Words and for writing.
Words for Wednesday has had me writing stories I never knew I could write.
X is for Xenophobia.
For which blogging is an antidote.
Y is for Yarn!
Z is for Zeal.
I hope to preserve this for blogging for a long time yet.
onsdag den 7. oktober 2026
Onsdagsord ~ June kapitel 12
Words for Wednesday ~ June, Chapter 12 & 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, 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 Sean Jeatings and can be found 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.
And for today we were given:
Contemporaries
Easily
Life
Met
Never
and/or:
One
Say
Sentence
Who
Within
Using the first set, and almost in the order they were given, for a small chapter about June.
June's unease with the signalling persons in the big tree and aboard the ship won over her fear of getting involved with other people. She found her bike, the lights, and her helmet. And then she filled a small bag with walnuts and another with blackberries from the garden. A small gift was always welcome. She smiled and felt sad at the same time. Daniel had always been good at finding the perfect gift whenever they had an occasion. He’d been a very complex person, and people who looked beyond his tattooed exterior were often surprised by his compassionate and vibrant inner self. But she couldn’t ask him for help. It had been half a year since she’d had to let him go.
And she locked the doors before mounting the bike and pedalling off towards Sanne's smaller town.
While her body was occupied with the mechanics of biking, her thoughts roamed freely. She wondered why a lot of her contemporaries had so many strange prejudices. She could easily remember three occasions from the last week alone where she had seen strange ideas about Catholics in the papers, in magazines, or just overheard something. And why were Catholics all of a sudden such a hot topic? It was probably just a case of frequency illusion ... Well, she was going to get wiser. She was about to visit at real life Catholic family. She never knowingly met any Catholics at home before. She had always been more curious than anything else, and her unbiased teacher in religion at school had only fanned this curiosity by talking of monks, nuns and so on as if they still existed, and were not far removed in either time or space ... which of course they were not, June smiled at her own prejudices showing.
På dansk
Endnu et kort kapitel i Junes historie.
Vi fik disse ord:
Contemporaries - Samtidige
Easily - Let, sagtens
Life - Liv
Met - Mødte
Never - Aldrig
og/eller:
One - En
Say - Sig, fortæl
Sentence - Sætning
Who - Hvem
Within - Indeni, inden for,
Jeg har brugt det første sæt ord, næsten i den rækkefølge de blev givet, til endnu et lille kapitel om June.
Junes utryghed over de morsende personer i det store træ og ombord på skibet endte med at overvinde hendes modvilje mod at involvere sig med andre mennesker. Hun fandt sin cykel, cykellygterne og sin hjelm, og så fyldte hun en lille pose med valnødder og en anden med brombær fra haven. En lille gave var aldrig af vejen. Hun smilede og følte sig trist på samme tid. Daniel havde været god til at finde den perfekte gave, når de skulle noget. Han havde været en meget sammensat personlighed, og folk der så længere end til hans tatoverede ydre, blev oftest overraskede over hans medfølende og sprudlende væsen. Men hun kunne ikke spørge ham om hjælp. Det var næsten et halvt år siden, hun havde måttet sige farvel til ham.
June låste dørene grundigt, før hun satte sig på cyklen og cyklede afsted mod Sannes mindre by.
Mens hendes krop var optaget af det mekaniske ved at cykle, vandrede hendes tanker omkring.
Hun undrede sig over, hvorfor mange af hendes samtidige havde så mange sære fordomme. Hun kunne sagtens huske flere gange alene i de seneste uger, hvor hun havde set mærkelige forestillinger om katolikker; I aviserne, i ugebladet eller bare noget, folk havde sagt. Og hvorfor var katolikker pludselig blevet et så aktuelt emne? Der var sandsynligvis bare tale om frekvensillusion, det at noget, der var nyt for en selv pludselig var alle steder … Nå, hun ville snart blive klogere. Hun skulle besøge en vaskeægte katolsk familie. Hun havde aldrig før været hjemme hos nogen, hun vidste var katolikker. Hun havde altid været mere nysgerrig end noget andet, og hendes fordomsfri religionslærer i skolen havde kun pustet til denne nysgerrighed ved at tale om munke, nonner og så videre, som om de stadig eksisterede og ikke var langt væk hverken i tid eller rum … hvilket de selvfølgelig heller ikke var; June smilede over sine egne fordomme.
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 Sean Jeatings and can be found 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.
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:
Contemporaries
Easily
Life
Met
Never
and/or:
One
Say
Sentence
Who
Within
Using the first set, and almost in the order they were given, for a small chapter about June.
June's unease with the signalling persons in the big tree and aboard the ship won over her fear of getting involved with other people. She found her bike, the lights, and her helmet. And then she filled a small bag with walnuts and another with blackberries from the garden. A small gift was always welcome. She smiled and felt sad at the same time. Daniel had always been good at finding the perfect gift whenever they had an occasion. He’d been a very complex person, and people who looked beyond his tattooed exterior were often surprised by his compassionate and vibrant inner self. But she couldn’t ask him for help. It had been half a year since she’d had to let him go.
And she locked the doors before mounting the bike and pedalling off towards Sanne's smaller town.
While her body was occupied with the mechanics of biking, her thoughts roamed freely. She wondered why a lot of her contemporaries had so many strange prejudices. She could easily remember three occasions from the last week alone where she had seen strange ideas about Catholics in the papers, in magazines, or just overheard something. And why were Catholics all of a sudden such a hot topic? It was probably just a case of frequency illusion ... Well, she was going to get wiser. She was about to visit at real life Catholic family. She never knowingly met any Catholics at home before. She had always been more curious than anything else, and her unbiased teacher in religion at school had only fanned this curiosity by talking of monks, nuns and so on as if they still existed, and were not far removed in either time or space ... which of course they were not, June smiled at her own prejudices showing.
På dansk
Endnu et kort kapitel i Junes historie.
Vi fik disse ord:
Contemporaries - Samtidige
Easily - Let, sagtens
Life - Liv
Met - Mødte
Never - Aldrig
og/eller:
One - En
Say - Sig, fortæl
Sentence - Sætning
Who - Hvem
Within - Indeni, inden for,
Jeg har brugt det første sæt ord, næsten i den rækkefølge de blev givet, til endnu et lille kapitel om June.
Junes utryghed over de morsende personer i det store træ og ombord på skibet endte med at overvinde hendes modvilje mod at involvere sig med andre mennesker. Hun fandt sin cykel, cykellygterne og sin hjelm, og så fyldte hun en lille pose med valnødder og en anden med brombær fra haven. En lille gave var aldrig af vejen. Hun smilede og følte sig trist på samme tid. Daniel havde været god til at finde den perfekte gave, når de skulle noget. Han havde været en meget sammensat personlighed, og folk der så længere end til hans tatoverede ydre, blev oftest overraskede over hans medfølende og sprudlende væsen. Men hun kunne ikke spørge ham om hjælp. Det var næsten et halvt år siden, hun havde måttet sige farvel til ham.
June låste dørene grundigt, før hun satte sig på cyklen og cyklede afsted mod Sannes mindre by.
Mens hendes krop var optaget af det mekaniske ved at cykle, vandrede hendes tanker omkring.
Hun undrede sig over, hvorfor mange af hendes samtidige havde så mange sære fordomme. Hun kunne sagtens huske flere gange alene i de seneste uger, hvor hun havde set mærkelige forestillinger om katolikker; I aviserne, i ugebladet eller bare noget, folk havde sagt. Og hvorfor var katolikker pludselig blevet et så aktuelt emne? Der var sandsynligvis bare tale om frekvensillusion, det at noget, der var nyt for en selv pludselig var alle steder … Nå, hun ville snart blive klogere. Hun skulle besøge en vaskeægte katolsk familie. Hun havde aldrig før været hjemme hos nogen, hun vidste var katolikker. Hun havde altid været mere nysgerrig end noget andet, og hendes fordomsfri religionslærer i skolen havde kun pustet til denne nysgerrighed ved at tale om munke, nonner og så videre, som om de stadig eksisterede og ikke var langt væk hverken i tid eller rum … hvilket de selvfølgelig heller ikke var; June smilede over sine egne fordomme.
- -
A
- -
B
- -
C
- -
October 6 question - Many people are calling for writers who use AI to disclose it. Most who employ ghostwriters do not admit it - do you think authors who use ghostwriters should have to disclose that, too?My answer - Yes! Definitely yes. If you did not write the contents of your book yourself, tell us so. Not acknowledging the help you had is in my opinion a kind of lying -- and of stealing. It does not matter if it's AI, a friend, your spouse, or a ghostwriter. Honesty, please.
Many autobiographies lately are called something like "Life of John Doe, the fisherman, as narrated to Peter Jones". I like this!
More so as in Denmark we have a sum paid from the libraries to the authors of books. Ghostwriters should have their fair share of this too.
tirsdag den 6. oktober 2026
June ~ 11
In this chapter June is in need of help. Can you be a solitary hero if you look to other people for assistance?
Finally home she ate some of the good bread and pulled out her Morse code papers. One of the library books had the list she needed. A chart over other European language, their specal letters and their codes (look below for a list). Comparing the letter combinations she had read as Danish letters or seen as errors, to this chart made it clear to her that it was indeed some foreign language. But which one? She first expected it to be one of the other Nordic languages, but there were far too many consonants mashed together for it to be even Icelandic, also there were some special letters not present there. French and the other Roman languages were ruled out for the same reasons. Maybe Romanian, but she was fairly sure that even though they had lots of extra letters they did not have initial consonant clusters of more than two maybe three, never four or five - had she only listened more attentively to the lessons in linguistics. Some Slavonic language might fit the bill. She tried Polish. All the extra letters fit. It made strange words, but they looked like they could be real words.
She did not have much knowledge of Polish, only remembering that it had like seven cases, lots of conjugations and declensions and a crazy verbal system, which could fit the words in her text. Many first parts looking alike, but with different endings. The text still remained illegible to her for all her thinking.
'Catholics!' she thought, almost saying it out loud. 'Many Poles are Catholic. Maybe Sanne and Jonah could help?' This would be a task for next Sunday - she realised that she intended to visit mass again - or for when the telephone started working.
Wednesday she avidly tested the telephone at regular intervals. She had seen more flashes during the night. and those from the woods had been more insistent, repeating a short sequense more times; and she had heard someone yelling. Not clear enough for words, but angry ... in short June did not like the proximity. As soon as the telephone line had been opened, which happened that same afternoon, she phoned Sanne and Jonah.
Sanne answered the phone, and June explained that she would like to get in touch with someone absolutely trustworthy and Polish speaking. June was very surprised when Sanne replied that she knew Polish. "I studied Polish at the university some years ago," Sanne told her. "I never finished my studies - too many kids happened - but I was quite fluent. And if I'm not good enough, I know who to ask, and he lives nearby. Just come over.
June was in two minds over this. She was in need of the help, but she did not want to get involved with, or dependent on other people ever again. But in the end common sense won. She was more afraid of the persons sending codes and yelling angrily in the dark woods -- smugglers she imagined -- than of getting more intimate with Sanne and her family.
På dansk
Her bliver jeg nødt til at lade June opsøge hjælp. Kan man være en ensom helt, hvis man får hjælp fra andre?
Da June endelig nåede hjem, spiste hun lidt af det gode brød og tog sine morsekode-papirer frem igen og fandt biblioteksbøgerne frem. Især den ene var god. Den havde en oversigt over de specielle tegn og deres forskellige læsninger (Se nederst). Hun fandt hurtigt ud af at de tegn, hun havde oversat til danske bogstaver eller opfattet som fejl også var bogstaver på andre sprog. Altså var det bare morse på et fremmedsprog. Men hvilket? Først troede hun at det måtte være et af de andre nordiske sprog, men der var alt for mange konsonanter, efter hinanden, til det. Selv ikke islandsk var så sært, og der var også nogle specielle bogstaver, der ikke fandtes på islandsk. Fransk og de andre romanske sprog måtte hun udelukke af samme grund. Måske kunne det være rumænsk, men hun var temmelig sikker på, at selvom det havde masser af ekstra bogstaver, havde det ikke mere end højst tre konsonanter i starten af et ord. Bare hun dog havde lyttet bedre efter i sprogvidenskab. Et eller andet slavisk sprog kunne måske passe. Hun prøvede polsk. Alle de ekstra bogstaver passede, og det gav nogle voldsomt udseende ord der alligevel så ud som om det kunne være rigtige ord.
Hun havde ikke meget kendskab til polsk, men huskede, at sproget havde syv kasus, masser af forskellige bøjninger samt et vanvittigt verbalsystem. Det kunne alt sammen passe på ordene i hendes tekst. Mange ordstammer lignede hinanden, men med helt forskellige endelser. Teksten forblev lige ulæselig for hende trods al hendes grublen.
»Katolikker!« tænkte hun og var lige ved at sige det højt. »Mange polakker er katolikker. Måske kunne Sanne og Jonah hjælpe?« Det ville blive en opgave til næste søndag – hun indså, at hun havde tænkt sig at gå til messe igen – eller til når telefonen begyndte at virke.
Onsdag testede hun ivrigt telefonen med jævne mellemrum. Hun havde set flere lysglimt i løbet af natten, og dem fra skoven havde været mere insisterende, og hun havde hørt nogen råbe højt derude … kort sagt kunne June ikke lide at de var så tæt på. Så snart klartonen lød, hvilket allerede skete tidligt om eftermiddagen, ringede hun til Sanne og Jonah.
Sanne tog telefonen, og June forklarede, at hun gerne ville i kontakt med en pålidelig person, der talte polsk. June blev meget overrasket, da Sanne svarede, at hun kunne polsk. »Jeg studerede polsk på universitetet for nogle år siden,« fortalte Sanne hende. »Jeg fik godt nok aldrig afsluttet min uddannelse – der kom for mange børn – men jeg blev ret god til polsk inden jeg stoppede, jeg talte det næsten flydende. Og hvis jeg skulle have glemt for meget, ved jeg, hvem jeg skal spørge, og han bor i nærheden. Bare kom forbi.«
June var meget i tvivl om hvad hun skulle gøre. Hun havde brug for hjælp, men hun havde ikke lyst til at involvere sig i eller blive afhængig af andre mennesker igen. Men til sidst vandt hendes sunde fornuft. Hun var mere bange for skumle mennesker, der sendte koder og råbte højt og vredt i mørket – smuglere, forestillede hun sig – end for at komme tættere på Sanne og hendes familie.
List of Morse codes in European languages (Please tell if I forgot any)
Liste over morsetegn på andre europæiske sprog (Hvis jeg manger noge, så vær sød og sig det):
É Đ É Ę · · — · ·
CH Ĥ Š — — — —
è ł · — · · –
ñ ń — — · — —
ç ĉ ć — · — · ·
Æ Ä Ą · — · —
Ø, Ó Ö — — — ·
Å À · — — · —
ĝ — — · — ·
ŝ · · · — ·
þ · — — · ·
ð · · — — ·
ĵ · — — — ·
ü ŭ · · — —
ś · · · — · · ·
ź — — · · — ·
ż — — · · —
Finally home she ate some of the good bread and pulled out her Morse code papers. One of the library books had the list she needed. A chart over other European language, their specal letters and their codes (look below for a list). Comparing the letter combinations she had read as Danish letters or seen as errors, to this chart made it clear to her that it was indeed some foreign language. But which one? She first expected it to be one of the other Nordic languages, but there were far too many consonants mashed together for it to be even Icelandic, also there were some special letters not present there. French and the other Roman languages were ruled out for the same reasons. Maybe Romanian, but she was fairly sure that even though they had lots of extra letters they did not have initial consonant clusters of more than two maybe three, never four or five - had she only listened more attentively to the lessons in linguistics. Some Slavonic language might fit the bill. She tried Polish. All the extra letters fit. It made strange words, but they looked like they could be real words.
She did not have much knowledge of Polish, only remembering that it had like seven cases, lots of conjugations and declensions and a crazy verbal system, which could fit the words in her text. Many first parts looking alike, but with different endings. The text still remained illegible to her for all her thinking.
'Catholics!' she thought, almost saying it out loud. 'Many Poles are Catholic. Maybe Sanne and Jonah could help?' This would be a task for next Sunday - she realised that she intended to visit mass again - or for when the telephone started working.
Wednesday she avidly tested the telephone at regular intervals. She had seen more flashes during the night. and those from the woods had been more insistent, repeating a short sequense more times; and she had heard someone yelling. Not clear enough for words, but angry ... in short June did not like the proximity. As soon as the telephone line had been opened, which happened that same afternoon, she phoned Sanne and Jonah.
Sanne answered the phone, and June explained that she would like to get in touch with someone absolutely trustworthy and Polish speaking. June was very surprised when Sanne replied that she knew Polish. "I studied Polish at the university some years ago," Sanne told her. "I never finished my studies - too many kids happened - but I was quite fluent. And if I'm not good enough, I know who to ask, and he lives nearby. Just come over.
June was in two minds over this. She was in need of the help, but she did not want to get involved with, or dependent on other people ever again. But in the end common sense won. She was more afraid of the persons sending codes and yelling angrily in the dark woods -- smugglers she imagined -- than of getting more intimate with Sanne and her family.
... to be continued
På dansk
Her bliver jeg nødt til at lade June opsøge hjælp. Kan man være en ensom helt, hvis man får hjælp fra andre?
Da June endelig nåede hjem, spiste hun lidt af det gode brød og tog sine morsekode-papirer frem igen og fandt biblioteksbøgerne frem. Især den ene var god. Den havde en oversigt over de specielle tegn og deres forskellige læsninger (Se nederst). Hun fandt hurtigt ud af at de tegn, hun havde oversat til danske bogstaver eller opfattet som fejl også var bogstaver på andre sprog. Altså var det bare morse på et fremmedsprog. Men hvilket? Først troede hun at det måtte være et af de andre nordiske sprog, men der var alt for mange konsonanter, efter hinanden, til det. Selv ikke islandsk var så sært, og der var også nogle specielle bogstaver, der ikke fandtes på islandsk. Fransk og de andre romanske sprog måtte hun udelukke af samme grund. Måske kunne det være rumænsk, men hun var temmelig sikker på, at selvom det havde masser af ekstra bogstaver, havde det ikke mere end højst tre konsonanter i starten af et ord. Bare hun dog havde lyttet bedre efter i sprogvidenskab. Et eller andet slavisk sprog kunne måske passe. Hun prøvede polsk. Alle de ekstra bogstaver passede, og det gav nogle voldsomt udseende ord der alligevel så ud som om det kunne være rigtige ord.
Hun havde ikke meget kendskab til polsk, men huskede, at sproget havde syv kasus, masser af forskellige bøjninger samt et vanvittigt verbalsystem. Det kunne alt sammen passe på ordene i hendes tekst. Mange ordstammer lignede hinanden, men med helt forskellige endelser. Teksten forblev lige ulæselig for hende trods al hendes grublen.
»Katolikker!« tænkte hun og var lige ved at sige det højt. »Mange polakker er katolikker. Måske kunne Sanne og Jonah hjælpe?« Det ville blive en opgave til næste søndag – hun indså, at hun havde tænkt sig at gå til messe igen – eller til når telefonen begyndte at virke.
Onsdag testede hun ivrigt telefonen med jævne mellemrum. Hun havde set flere lysglimt i løbet af natten, og dem fra skoven havde været mere insisterende, og hun havde hørt nogen råbe højt derude … kort sagt kunne June ikke lide at de var så tæt på. Så snart klartonen lød, hvilket allerede skete tidligt om eftermiddagen, ringede hun til Sanne og Jonah.
Sanne tog telefonen, og June forklarede, at hun gerne ville i kontakt med en pålidelig person, der talte polsk. June blev meget overrasket, da Sanne svarede, at hun kunne polsk. »Jeg studerede polsk på universitetet for nogle år siden,« fortalte Sanne hende. »Jeg fik godt nok aldrig afsluttet min uddannelse – der kom for mange børn – men jeg blev ret god til polsk inden jeg stoppede, jeg talte det næsten flydende. Og hvis jeg skulle have glemt for meget, ved jeg, hvem jeg skal spørge, og han bor i nærheden. Bare kom forbi.«
June var meget i tvivl om hvad hun skulle gøre. Hun havde brug for hjælp, men hun havde ikke lyst til at involvere sig i eller blive afhængig af andre mennesker igen. Men til sidst vandt hendes sunde fornuft. Hun var mere bange for skumle mennesker, der sendte koder og råbte højt og vredt i mørket – smuglere, forestillede hun sig – end for at komme tættere på Sanne og hendes familie.
fortsættelse følger ...
List of Morse codes in European languages (Please tell if I forgot any)
Liste over morsetegn på andre europæiske sprog (Hvis jeg manger noge, så vær sød og sig det):
É Đ É Ę · · — · ·
CH Ĥ Š — — — —
è ł · — · · –
ñ ń — — · — —
ç ĉ ć — · — · ·
Æ Ä Ą · — · —
Ø, Ó Ö — — — ·
Å À · — — · —
ĝ — — · — ·
ŝ · · · — ·
þ · — — · ·
ð · · — — ·
ĵ · — — — ·
ü ŭ · · — —
ś · · · — · · ·
ź — — · · — ·
ż — — · · —
mandag den 5. oktober 2026
Poetry Monday :: Rocket
Mandagsdigt :: Raket eller rucola?
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 Rocket. A word with at least two meanings.
Mom called us in, "Now come and eat!"
We asked: "What is for dinner?"
"Chicken and noodles and rocket as a treat!"
A rocket - this news was a winner.
We hurried in. Asked: "Where is it"
"Where is what?" mom said, "Now wash and sit!"
We did as asked, Expectations great.
"The rocket is there, right on your plate!"
It was a disappointment great.
No fire, no starbursts, no sparkling lights
And as we sat, the green stuff ate,
it was bitter even in smallest bites.
"Never again," we swore "will we
partake of this or trust in thee."
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 Rocket, der betyder mindst to ting Raket og Rucola
Måske får jeg også skrevet et digt på dansk senere i dag.
- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -
October 12 Contents of the safe - Pengeskabets indhold
October 19 X-ray vision - Røngtensyn
October 26 Clam - Musling
November 2 Big Birds _ Store fugle
November 9 Planes - Fly, høvle, plataner
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 Rocket. A word with at least two meanings.
Mom called us in, "Now come and eat!"
We asked: "What is for dinner?"
"Chicken and noodles and rocket as a treat!"
A rocket - this news was a winner.
We hurried in. Asked: "Where is it"
"Where is what?" mom said, "Now wash and sit!"
We did as asked, Expectations great.
"The rocket is there, right on your plate!"
It was a disappointment great.
No fire, no starbursts, no sparkling lights
And as we sat, the green stuff ate,
it was bitter even in smallest bites.
"Never again," we swore "will we
partake of this or trust in thee."
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 Rocket, der betyder mindst to ting Raket og Rucola
Måske får jeg også skrevet et digt på dansk senere i dag.
- - - - - Coming Prompts // Kommende stikord - - - - -
October 12 Contents of the safe - Pengeskabets indhold
October 19 X-ray vision - Røngtensyn
October 26 Clam - Musling
November 2 Big Birds _ Store fugle
November 9 Planes - Fly, høvle, plataner
søndag den 4. oktober 2026
Sunday Selections
Søndagsbilleder
The colour of the Month for October is ~ Månedens farve for oktober er
Ever since River called this colour for "Milk Chocolate" that's all I have seen whenever I look at it. I tried to take a walk, looking at leaves and flowers for this colour. I found no flowers, but ferns for plant dyeing and a King bolete for dinner. 
🍂 - 📔 - 👣
River sagde i en kommentar, at den var chokoladefarvet. Siden har jeg ikke kunnet se andet. Jeg prøvede at gå en tur og finde blade eller blomster i den farve, men det eneste jeg fandt, var bregner til plantefarvning og en Karl Johan (eller sommerrørhat) til vores aftensmad. 
Then we found another mushroom, a waxcap, not edible, but pretty.
🍂 - 📔 - 👣
Vi fandt også en anden svamp. En vokshat. Den er ikke spiselig, men flot.
The plant dyeing day was a success. Here's one of the pieces. More will probably follow after washing and drying.
And I think I ended up finding this colour somewhere not chocolate.
The plant dyeing day was a success. Here's one of the pieces. More will probably follow after washing and drying.
🍂 - 📔 - 👣
Plantefarverdagen var en succes. Her er et af stykkerne. Der kommer sikkert flere billeder, når det hele er vasket og tørret. 
And I think I ended up finding this colour somewhere not chocolate.
🍂 - 📔 - 👣
Og så endte jeg nok alligevel med at finde denne farve andre steder end i et stykke chokolade. lørdag den 3. oktober 2026
June ~ 10 B
Next half chapter, I think this is slow going, but mysteries take their time unfolding.
Monday in town, June visited the 'phone shop first. She was told that it would be no problem, and as Charles O'Connor had had a landline, she did not even have to be home. Someone from the company would activate her line, and she could choose a telephone now. "Just test at intervals from some time Wednesday. When you get the dialling tone it means it's working." He wrote her telephone number on a small piece of paper and put it into the desgnated window on the telephone, June had chosen. She thanked him and left.
Then she walked to the bike shop at the outskirts of town. They had the perfect bike for her, sturdy and even green, her favourite colour. She did not remember when she had last ridden a bike. Dennis had not liked bikes, and been rich enough for them to have two cars. A small, sporty one for him, and a roomy, yet easily handled one for her for shopping, going places with the kids and for their holidays, weekends, and all that. It was the one that had killed him and the kids. She had not felt like driving or even owning a car since. But a bike was something else. The bike dealer had asked her a question.
"Sorry," June said, "I was woolgathering."
"I asked if you'd like to buy a helmet or anything else?"
"Sure," June said, "I'd like a helmet. And panniers or whatever they're called. Biking home with bags on the handle is not a thing I'd like to do."
"No," the bike dealer said, "I would strongly advise against it. By the way, we have a big parking lot behind the shop. You can familiarise yourself with the bike out there."
"Thanks a lot," June said surprised. "Am I that transparent?"
June did remember how to ride a bike, and felt like a little girl once again. 'It seems you really do not forget,' she thought.
She slowly biked on to the library and found a couple of useful-looking books on Morse code. She had some trouble getting registered, as she only recently moved in, and could not produce the wanted identification papers. A temporary card solved this problem.
Biking to the centre of town, she met the mail-man. He hailed her and said: "I'm sorry I walked into your house last week. You were not at home, I had forgotten some letters of yours. You sure get a lot! I was thirsty so I drank some water. I think I left behind my lunch."
He spoke in short sentences with small pauses in between, June had already notice this on his first visits, but today it was even more prominent. Strange habit that. But at least he solved one mystery. "A pudding?" June asked.
"Yup. It was getting hot. I wanted to let it cool while having some water. Later, I wanted to eat it. I could not find it. Did you eat it?" He looked expectantly at her.
"No, I did not. You can have it next time you come. But, you know, it's not nice to walk into other peoples' home while they're not at home."
"I know. Sometimes I forget. I was so thirsty."
June looked closely at the mail-man. Suddenly she saw the person, and not just the mail-man. She noticed the epicanthic folds and the flat nose. He was suffering from Down syndrome. Mildly enough to function as a mail-man, ride a bike, and so on, but his social control was somewhat lacking. "It's OK," she said, "I'll keep the pudding for you."
"Thanks! It's a treat. I can't always afford one. The baker makes them Monday. That's today. I really like them. See you tomorrow."
June biked to the baker's and bought a new pudding. She was sure that after sitting a whole week in her fridge, the old one would be inedible, if not downright harmful.
På dansk
Her er så det næste havle kapitel. Det går langsomt fremad, synes jeg. Men på den anden side, mysterier tager deres tid.
Mandag tog June først ind til telefonbutikken. Hun fik at vide, at det ikke ville være noget problem for hende at få en telefon, Charles O’Connor havde haft en, så ledningern lø der allerede. Ja, hun behøvede ikke engang at være hjemme. En medarbejder fra selskabet ville komme ud til et eller andet målerskab, June forstod ikke rigtig forklaringen, og syntes, det var pinligt at spørge igen. Men det korte af det lange var, at hendes telefonnummer ville blive aktiveret uden at hun behøvede at gøre noget, og hun kunne få en telefon med hjem med det samme.
"Bare sæt den i stikket og løft røret med jævne mellemrum fra onsdag middag," forklarede den unge forhandler. "Når du hører klartonen, betyder det, at den virker." Han skrev hendes telefonnummer på et lille stykke papir og satte det ind i det dertil indrettede vindue på den telefon, June havde valgt. Hun takkede ham og gik.
Derefter gik hun hen til cykelforretningen i udkanten af byen. De havde den perfekte cykel til hende, robust og endda dæmpet grøn, en af hendes yndlingsfarver. Hun kunne ikke huske, hvornår hun sidst havde cyklet. Dennis havde ikke brudt sig om cykler og havde været rig nok til, at de kunne have to biler. En lille, sporty bil til ham og en rummelig, men alligevel let bil til hende til indkøb, ture med børnene og til deres ferier, weekender og alt det der. Det var den, der havde dræbt ham og børnene.
Siden da havde hun ikke haft lyst til at køre bil eller overhovedet eje en bil. Men en cykel var noget helt andet. Cykelhandleren havde stillet hende et spørgsmål.
"Undskyld," sagde June, "jeg var lidt fraværende."
"Jeg spurgte, om du havde brug for en cykelhjelm eller noget andet tilbehør?"
"Ja da," sagde June, "jeg vil gerne have en hjelm. Og et par cykeltasker. Jeg har ikke lyst til at cykle hjem med poser på styret.”
"Nej," sagde cykelforhandleren, "det vil jeg også på det kraftigste fraråde. Forresten har vi en stor parkeringsplads omme bag butikken. Derude kan du lære cyklen at kende."
"Mange tak," sagde June. 'Kan det mon ses på mig, at jeg er utryg ved at sætte mig op på en cykel,' tænkte hun.
June kunne heldigvis godt huske det der med at cykle, og følte sig helt som en lille pige igen. 'Det ser ud til, at man faktisk ikke glemmer det, man har lært som lille,' tænkte hun.
Hun cyklede langsomt videre til biblioteket og fandt et par bøger om morsekode, der så nyttige ud. Hun havde lidt besvær med at blive oprettet som låner, da hun først for nylig var flyttet ind og ikke kunne fremvise de krævede identifikationspapirer. Et midlertidigt lånerkort viste sig at være løsningen på dette problem.
Da hun cyklede ind mod byens centrum, mødte hun postbudet. Han vinkede til hende og sagde: "Undskyld, at jeg gik ind i dit hus i sidste uge. Du var ikke hjemme. Jeg havde glemt at give dig nogle af dine breve. Du får virkelig mange! Jeg var tørstig, så jeg drak lidt vand. Jeg tror, jeg glemte min frokost inde hos dig."
Han talte i korte sætninger med små pauser imellem; det havde June allerede lagt mærke til ved hans første besøg, men i dag var det endnu mere tydeligt. En mærkelig vane. Men i det mindste løste han én gåde. "Var det en budding?" spurgte June.
"Jep. Den var ved at blive varm. Jeg ville lade den køle, mens jeg drak vand. Senere ville jeg spise den. Men den var væk. Har du spist den?" Han så forventningsfuldt på hende.
"Nej, det har jeg ikke. Du kan få den, næste gang du kommer. Men du ved godt, at det ikke er pænt at gå ind i andres hjem, mens de ikke er der."
"Det ved jeg godt. Nogle gange glemmer jeg det. Jeg var så tørstig."
June kiggede nøje på postbudet. Pludselig så hun personen, og ikke bare uniformen. Hun lagde mærke til de tunge folder ved øjnene og den flade næse. Han led af Downs syndrom. Mildt nok til at kunne arbejde som postbud, cykle og så videre, men hans evner til at følge de normale, sociale spilleregler lod noget tilbage at ønske. "Det er okay," sagde hun så, "jeg gemmer buddingen til dig."
"Tak! De er så lækre. Jeg har ikke altid råd til en. Bageren laver dem om mandagen. Det er i dag. Jeg kan virkelig godt lide dem. Vi ses i morgen."
June cyklede hen til bageren og købte en ny budding. Hun var sikker på, at den gamle ville være uspiselig, hvis ikke direkte sundhedsskadelig, efter at have stået en hel uge i hendes køleskab.
Monday in town, June visited the 'phone shop first. She was told that it would be no problem, and as Charles O'Connor had had a landline, she did not even have to be home. Someone from the company would activate her line, and she could choose a telephone now. "Just test at intervals from some time Wednesday. When you get the dialling tone it means it's working." He wrote her telephone number on a small piece of paper and put it into the desgnated window on the telephone, June had chosen. She thanked him and left.
Then she walked to the bike shop at the outskirts of town. They had the perfect bike for her, sturdy and even green, her favourite colour. She did not remember when she had last ridden a bike. Dennis had not liked bikes, and been rich enough for them to have two cars. A small, sporty one for him, and a roomy, yet easily handled one for her for shopping, going places with the kids and for their holidays, weekends, and all that. It was the one that had killed him and the kids. She had not felt like driving or even owning a car since. But a bike was something else. The bike dealer had asked her a question.
"Sorry," June said, "I was woolgathering."
"I asked if you'd like to buy a helmet or anything else?"
"Sure," June said, "I'd like a helmet. And panniers or whatever they're called. Biking home with bags on the handle is not a thing I'd like to do."
"No," the bike dealer said, "I would strongly advise against it. By the way, we have a big parking lot behind the shop. You can familiarise yourself with the bike out there."
"Thanks a lot," June said surprised. "Am I that transparent?"
June did remember how to ride a bike, and felt like a little girl once again. 'It seems you really do not forget,' she thought.
She slowly biked on to the library and found a couple of useful-looking books on Morse code. She had some trouble getting registered, as she only recently moved in, and could not produce the wanted identification papers. A temporary card solved this problem.
Biking to the centre of town, she met the mail-man. He hailed her and said: "I'm sorry I walked into your house last week. You were not at home, I had forgotten some letters of yours. You sure get a lot! I was thirsty so I drank some water. I think I left behind my lunch."
He spoke in short sentences with small pauses in between, June had already notice this on his first visits, but today it was even more prominent. Strange habit that. But at least he solved one mystery. "A pudding?" June asked.
"Yup. It was getting hot. I wanted to let it cool while having some water. Later, I wanted to eat it. I could not find it. Did you eat it?" He looked expectantly at her.
"No, I did not. You can have it next time you come. But, you know, it's not nice to walk into other peoples' home while they're not at home."
"I know. Sometimes I forget. I was so thirsty."
June looked closely at the mail-man. Suddenly she saw the person, and not just the mail-man. She noticed the epicanthic folds and the flat nose. He was suffering from Down syndrome. Mildly enough to function as a mail-man, ride a bike, and so on, but his social control was somewhat lacking. "It's OK," she said, "I'll keep the pudding for you."
"Thanks! It's a treat. I can't always afford one. The baker makes them Monday. That's today. I really like them. See you tomorrow."
June biked to the baker's and bought a new pudding. She was sure that after sitting a whole week in her fridge, the old one would be inedible, if not downright harmful.
... to be continued
På dansk
Her er så det næste havle kapitel. Det går langsomt fremad, synes jeg. Men på den anden side, mysterier tager deres tid.
Mandag tog June først ind til telefonbutikken. Hun fik at vide, at det ikke ville være noget problem for hende at få en telefon, Charles O’Connor havde haft en, så ledningern lø der allerede. Ja, hun behøvede ikke engang at være hjemme. En medarbejder fra selskabet ville komme ud til et eller andet målerskab, June forstod ikke rigtig forklaringen, og syntes, det var pinligt at spørge igen. Men det korte af det lange var, at hendes telefonnummer ville blive aktiveret uden at hun behøvede at gøre noget, og hun kunne få en telefon med hjem med det samme.
"Bare sæt den i stikket og løft røret med jævne mellemrum fra onsdag middag," forklarede den unge forhandler. "Når du hører klartonen, betyder det, at den virker." Han skrev hendes telefonnummer på et lille stykke papir og satte det ind i det dertil indrettede vindue på den telefon, June havde valgt. Hun takkede ham og gik.
Derefter gik hun hen til cykelforretningen i udkanten af byen. De havde den perfekte cykel til hende, robust og endda dæmpet grøn, en af hendes yndlingsfarver. Hun kunne ikke huske, hvornår hun sidst havde cyklet. Dennis havde ikke brudt sig om cykler og havde været rig nok til, at de kunne have to biler. En lille, sporty bil til ham og en rummelig, men alligevel let bil til hende til indkøb, ture med børnene og til deres ferier, weekender og alt det der. Det var den, der havde dræbt ham og børnene.
Siden da havde hun ikke haft lyst til at køre bil eller overhovedet eje en bil. Men en cykel var noget helt andet. Cykelhandleren havde stillet hende et spørgsmål.
"Undskyld," sagde June, "jeg var lidt fraværende."
"Jeg spurgte, om du havde brug for en cykelhjelm eller noget andet tilbehør?"
"Ja da," sagde June, "jeg vil gerne have en hjelm. Og et par cykeltasker. Jeg har ikke lyst til at cykle hjem med poser på styret.”
"Nej," sagde cykelforhandleren, "det vil jeg også på det kraftigste fraråde. Forresten har vi en stor parkeringsplads omme bag butikken. Derude kan du lære cyklen at kende."
"Mange tak," sagde June. 'Kan det mon ses på mig, at jeg er utryg ved at sætte mig op på en cykel,' tænkte hun.
June kunne heldigvis godt huske det der med at cykle, og følte sig helt som en lille pige igen. 'Det ser ud til, at man faktisk ikke glemmer det, man har lært som lille,' tænkte hun.
Hun cyklede langsomt videre til biblioteket og fandt et par bøger om morsekode, der så nyttige ud. Hun havde lidt besvær med at blive oprettet som låner, da hun først for nylig var flyttet ind og ikke kunne fremvise de krævede identifikationspapirer. Et midlertidigt lånerkort viste sig at være løsningen på dette problem.
Da hun cyklede ind mod byens centrum, mødte hun postbudet. Han vinkede til hende og sagde: "Undskyld, at jeg gik ind i dit hus i sidste uge. Du var ikke hjemme. Jeg havde glemt at give dig nogle af dine breve. Du får virkelig mange! Jeg var tørstig, så jeg drak lidt vand. Jeg tror, jeg glemte min frokost inde hos dig."
Han talte i korte sætninger med små pauser imellem; det havde June allerede lagt mærke til ved hans første besøg, men i dag var det endnu mere tydeligt. En mærkelig vane. Men i det mindste løste han én gåde. "Var det en budding?" spurgte June.
"Jep. Den var ved at blive varm. Jeg ville lade den køle, mens jeg drak vand. Senere ville jeg spise den. Men den var væk. Har du spist den?" Han så forventningsfuldt på hende.
"Nej, det har jeg ikke. Du kan få den, næste gang du kommer. Men du ved godt, at det ikke er pænt at gå ind i andres hjem, mens de ikke er der."
"Det ved jeg godt. Nogle gange glemmer jeg det. Jeg var så tørstig."
June kiggede nøje på postbudet. Pludselig så hun personen, og ikke bare uniformen. Hun lagde mærke til de tunge folder ved øjnene og den flade næse. Han led af Downs syndrom. Mildt nok til at kunne arbejde som postbud, cykle og så videre, men hans evner til at følge de normale, sociale spilleregler lod noget tilbage at ønske. "Det er okay," sagde hun så, "jeg gemmer buddingen til dig."
"Tak! De er så lækre. Jeg har ikke altid råd til en. Bageren laver dem om mandagen. Det er i dag. Jeg kan virkelig godt lide dem. Vi ses i morgen."
June cyklede hen til bageren og købte en ny budding. Hun var sikker på, at den gamle ville være uspiselig, hvis ikke direkte sundhedsskadelig, efter at have stået en hel uge i hendes køleskab.
... fortsættelse følger
fredag den 2. oktober 2026
June ~ 10 A
A smallish chapter of June's story.
Does this even make sense?
I'm slowly getting her into a situation, where she'll have to choose between having friends or a solitary, independent lifestyle.
Back in her living room the musings on the mass made way for practicalities like cleaning her table for lunch. She was also curious how the pieces of paper were doing. She pulled them out instead of lunch. The letters were still brown, legible. but totally meaningless to June. Was it a second code, like a code within a code? June did not believe this, only very practised coders could send fast in Morse - she had no problems following the dots and dashes fron the ship, and even less those from the big oak. And translating twice, normal words to code to Morse was really tough. No way this could be the answer.
June copied what she could read, carefully, making lines in place of any illegible letters. It was gibberish. She tried comparing with her transcription of the dots and dashes from the ship, which she also had written out in the same manner. It sure looked like more of the same gibberish. Suddenly it struck her. Morse code was international. And in many languages special Morse signs were added to the 26 English letters, just like her Danish Æ, Ø, and Å. She had actually found some letters Æ and Ø in the texts, but no Å. Maybe it was in another language, maybe the ones she could not remember from her verses were another languages' special letters? Tomorrow she would have to go to town again. Books on Morse code should be obtainable at the library or in the book store. And a telephone. And a bike? Yes that would be just right. Sanne and Jonah were nice, as were the kids, but she would not sponge on their kindness. She had forgotten about lunch, and now it was soon time for dinner. She put away the papers and went to the fridge. The pudding was still there, and everything were as she had left it. Still, yet another mystery. She was beginning to feel like a collector of mysteries.
På dansk
Endnu et kort kapitel i Junes historie.
Giver det her overhovedet mening?
Jeg er langsomt ved at få hende ud i en situation, hvor hun bliver nødt til at vælge mellem venner og en ensom, uafhængig livsstil.
June låste sig ind og lukkede døren grundigt efter sig. Tankerne om messen veg for praktiske gøremål som at rydde bordet til frokost. Hun var også nysgerrig efter at se, hvordan papirlapperne havde det. Nysgerrigheden vandt, og hun tog dem frem i stedet for at spise frokost. Bogstaverne var stadig brune og læselige, men det gav ingen mening. Var det en anden kode, måske en kode inden i en kode? June troede ikke rigtigt på det. Det krævede øvelse at kunne sende hurtigt i morse, og hun havde ikke haft problemer med at følge med i det, de sendte hverken fra skibet eller fra det store egetræ. Og at oversætte to gange, først fra almindelige ord til kode og så videre til morse, var virkelig svært. Det kunne umuligt være sådan, det hang sammen.
June skrev omhyggeligt de bogstaver ned, hun kunne læse, og satte streger i stedet for ulæselige bogstaver. Det var det rene volapyk. Hun prøvede at sammenligne det med sin afskrift af prikkerne og stregerne fra skibet, som hun havde skrevet ned på samme måde. Det så ud som mere af det samme volapyk. Pludselig gik det op for hende. Morsekode var international. Og på mange sprog blev der tilføjet specielle morse-tegn til de 26 engelske bogstaver, ligesom de danske Æ, Ø og Å. Hun havde faktisk fundet nogle Æ'er og Ø'er i teksterne, men ingen Å'er. Måske var det et andet sprog, måske var de bogstaver, hun ikke kunne genkende fra sine vers, bare specielle bogstaver fra andre sprog? I morgen måtte hun tage ind til byen igen. Biblioteket måtte have bøger om morsekode, ellers måtte hun prøve hos boghandlen. Og en telefon. Og måske også en cykel? Ja, det ville være helt perfekt. Sanne og Jonah var søde, og deres børn også, men hun ville ikke udnytte deres venlighed eller blive afhængig af dem. Hun havde glemt alt om frokosten, og nu var det snart tid til aftensmad. Hun lagde papirerne væk og gik hen til køleskabet. Buddingen stod der stadig, alt var som hun havde efterladt det. Alligevel var et endnu et mysterium. Hun begyndte at føle at hun samlede på mysterier.
Does this even make sense?
I'm slowly getting her into a situation, where she'll have to choose between having friends or a solitary, independent lifestyle.
Back in her living room the musings on the mass made way for practicalities like cleaning her table for lunch. She was also curious how the pieces of paper were doing. She pulled them out instead of lunch. The letters were still brown, legible. but totally meaningless to June. Was it a second code, like a code within a code? June did not believe this, only very practised coders could send fast in Morse - she had no problems following the dots and dashes fron the ship, and even less those from the big oak. And translating twice, normal words to code to Morse was really tough. No way this could be the answer.
June copied what she could read, carefully, making lines in place of any illegible letters. It was gibberish. She tried comparing with her transcription of the dots and dashes from the ship, which she also had written out in the same manner. It sure looked like more of the same gibberish. Suddenly it struck her. Morse code was international. And in many languages special Morse signs were added to the 26 English letters, just like her Danish Æ, Ø, and Å. She had actually found some letters Æ and Ø in the texts, but no Å. Maybe it was in another language, maybe the ones she could not remember from her verses were another languages' special letters? Tomorrow she would have to go to town again. Books on Morse code should be obtainable at the library or in the book store. And a telephone. And a bike? Yes that would be just right. Sanne and Jonah were nice, as were the kids, but she would not sponge on their kindness. She had forgotten about lunch, and now it was soon time for dinner. She put away the papers and went to the fridge. The pudding was still there, and everything were as she had left it. Still, yet another mystery. She was beginning to feel like a collector of mysteries.
... to be continued
På dansk
Endnu et kort kapitel i Junes historie.
Giver det her overhovedet mening?
Jeg er langsomt ved at få hende ud i en situation, hvor hun bliver nødt til at vælge mellem venner og en ensom, uafhængig livsstil.
June låste sig ind og lukkede døren grundigt efter sig. Tankerne om messen veg for praktiske gøremål som at rydde bordet til frokost. Hun var også nysgerrig efter at se, hvordan papirlapperne havde det. Nysgerrigheden vandt, og hun tog dem frem i stedet for at spise frokost. Bogstaverne var stadig brune og læselige, men det gav ingen mening. Var det en anden kode, måske en kode inden i en kode? June troede ikke rigtigt på det. Det krævede øvelse at kunne sende hurtigt i morse, og hun havde ikke haft problemer med at følge med i det, de sendte hverken fra skibet eller fra det store egetræ. Og at oversætte to gange, først fra almindelige ord til kode og så videre til morse, var virkelig svært. Det kunne umuligt være sådan, det hang sammen.
June skrev omhyggeligt de bogstaver ned, hun kunne læse, og satte streger i stedet for ulæselige bogstaver. Det var det rene volapyk. Hun prøvede at sammenligne det med sin afskrift af prikkerne og stregerne fra skibet, som hun havde skrevet ned på samme måde. Det så ud som mere af det samme volapyk. Pludselig gik det op for hende. Morsekode var international. Og på mange sprog blev der tilføjet specielle morse-tegn til de 26 engelske bogstaver, ligesom de danske Æ, Ø og Å. Hun havde faktisk fundet nogle Æ'er og Ø'er i teksterne, men ingen Å'er. Måske var det et andet sprog, måske var de bogstaver, hun ikke kunne genkende fra sine vers, bare specielle bogstaver fra andre sprog? I morgen måtte hun tage ind til byen igen. Biblioteket måtte have bøger om morsekode, ellers måtte hun prøve hos boghandlen. Og en telefon. Og måske også en cykel? Ja, det ville være helt perfekt. Sanne og Jonah var søde, og deres børn også, men hun ville ikke udnytte deres venlighed eller blive afhængig af dem. Hun havde glemt alt om frokosten, og nu var det snart tid til aftensmad. Hun lagde papirerne væk og gik hen til køleskabet. Buddingen stod der stadig, alt var som hun havde efterladt det. Alligevel var et endnu et mysterium. Hun begyndte at føle at hun samlede på mysterier.
... fortsættelse følger
torsdag den 1. oktober 2026
June ~ The Solitary Hero ~ 9 An interlude.
June kapitel 9 ~ et mellemspil
Here's the strange interlude I woke up with some days ago. Does it fit? Why, why not? Do you like it?
Next morning June was hit by a strange thought. 'It's Sunday. I want to go to church.' She found the local paper, an old-fashioned one, still giving the time for church services nearby. She perused the list. All the evangelical ones were at 9 or 10. Too early for her to make it by bus. Then an Adventist one, offering service and coffee at 9.30. June spluttered., Her irreverent parents had always called the local Adventist community for Saint Coffee's. A Pentecostal service at 10.30, more like it. but alas too far away from the bus stop to make it in time. This left only the Catholic mass at 11. She thought back on her childhood travels to France and Italy. Majestic Gothic or Roman churches, smelling of frankincense and candles. Pretty windows, old ladies mumbling in the corners. Her parents had been rather indifferent, finding religion of any kind a waste of time. Dennis had been a scorner. But still their children had been baptised in the local church, and he and the children were buried there as well.
She decided to go to the mass. She dressed inconspicuously, came a few minutes before the mass began and sat down in a pew in the back of the church. She intended to behave as everybody else, and this was easier done when not sitting up front. The church was very full, and really nothing special, mock Gothic, red bricks inside and out, sparse but with a couple of nice glass mosaics windows depicting Jesus, Mary and some saints. Only the smell was the same, calming, incense and candles and something else.
The priest entered, preceded by a few altar servers while the congregation sang. Nobody played the organ, and she wondered if the organist had fallen ill.
The priest seemed to be an ordinary, kind man. After confession of sins, a nice thing, June thought. and some back and forth someone from the congregation read passages from the Bible while they all remained seated. Then they got up while the priest read from the Bible. So far nothing strange. Sermon, profession of the faith, missing the renunciation of the devil and evil - maybe due to the confession if sins in the beginning? Collecting of money, Dad was right there, Catholics were a greedy lot. Then came something different, Bread and wine were carried to the altar by children from the congregation. The priest took them, said a lot of prayers and suddenly it struck her: It is a re-enactment of the last supper. We're the disciples, the priest is Christ. Then everybody knelt, and June with them, And the priest took bread and wine one by one and said the words that Jesus had said at the last supper: This is my body ..., This is my blood ... June asked God all the whys and hows from her marriage and from the death of her dears one by one. She did not get an answer, but just as she raised her head, the priest lifted up the bread and wine and half sang: "Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours, for ever and ever. Amen." And then the sun broke through the clouds and shone through one of the yellow pieces of glass directly on the elevated host. And she felt at peace.
She got up with the rest of the congregation, said the Lord's prayer, stumbling a bit over the inclusion of some prayer by the priest alone before the Thine is the kingdom piece.
The priest prayed for peace, and the woman next to her turned to her and extended her hand. June took the offered hand, and the woman said: "Peace be with you!" June had noticed the woman earlier, she was together with her husband and three small children, She had quietly been nursing the baby during the sermon, and now it slept, leaning against her neck.
Everybody knelt again, also June. And then the priest spoke to the congregation:"I know many present here today are not Catholics, and while the Eucharist is reserved for those in full communion with the Church (June could hear the capital letter), everybody is welcome to have a blessing. I'll know by your placing your right hand on your left shoulder. A blessing, June mused, yes, why not. In for a lamb, in for a sheep - she almost laughed out loud. Jesus had been called the lamb of God a short while ago. She followed the family next tho her, The man took the two toddlers, they looked to be three and two years old, while the woman followed carrying the sleeping baby. The priest gave the two small ones a blessing, also the sleeping baby, and placed the sacred hose in the mouth of both parents. One of the altar servers smiled and surreptitiously waved at the woman. June realised that at least he, and probably a bigger one too, also belonged to the couple. Five children, and they looked so happy. June hurriedly placed left hand on her right shoulder, the priest smiled at her and made the sign of the cross over her.
Then she knelt with the rest of the congregation once again - much more kneeling, standing, blessing and such were happening than during the masses she had been to during religious teaching in school. Also you had to pray along, not only listen and sing hymns. She had heard something about active participation; this must be it.
The mass ended with announcements of things happening in the coming week, rehearsals for first holy communion, and coffee after mass. June smiled again. Saint Coffee's lived here too. And then the final blessing, and "The Mass is ended, go in peace."
Outside the church the mother of five turned to June: "You're new here, are you coming for coffee?"
June looked at her watch. Ten minutes to the next bus and then a two hours interval. "No, thanks," she replied. "I have to catch a bus either in ten minutes or in two hours and ten minutes. It'll be too late."
The woman asked June which bus and after hearing the number offered to take her. "We live in the next town on that route, and we have a big car, have to with six kids ..." she was interrupted by the two boys having served at mass who came running to her.
"Did we do OK, mummy?"
"Pater Andrew promised us a chocolate bar if we sat quietly during mass and did our job."
"You did fine," the woman said, "I'm sure you'll have your bribe." They ran off to the next house, and the woman turned to June, "Are you coming or not?"
"Maybe next time," June said. "It was rather overwhelming, But six kids you say, I see only five."
"Oh, the oldest is missing, she's the only girl by the way, she's in Australia with the World Youth days, meeting the Pope, seeing the world."
"Australia," June blurted, "how old is she ... Oh, OK, I'll tag along for coffee, this sounds too interesting, and I'm half late already."
June sat next to Sanne and Jonah, her husband, and had a surprisingly good cup of coffee. She told them that she was not a Catholic - "We guessed" Sanne said - but had come because it was the only service matching the bus' time table.
Sanne told a bit more of the World Youth days, an amazing biennial happening for all between 18 and 25 years of age.
Then June told of her father's nickname, Saint Coffee's, for arrangements like this, and had them both laughing "Some Catholics call it the eighth sacrament," Jonah said.
Emboldened by this, June continued: "My father also said Catholics were always busy collecting money, and what I saw today confirmed this.
"Oh," Sanne began, and the oldest son sad "No way!"
"Yes, Daniel, please explain," Sanne said, and Daniel continued. "You see, first, the money are symbolic, it't like we're giving us. It's OK to put in only a small coin - most do actually. And then our offerings - us - are carried to the altar, as if giving us to God. Secondly. The Church in Denmark is very far from rich. We do not get any tax money, and the buildings need repair and heating in winter, and priests have to eat too, you know."
"I never thought of it this way," June said.
The drive home was cosy. Daniel and Peter, the next oldest, told her about some wild games in the woods, of riding horses, and of a stupid teacher at school. Andrew told her solemnly that he was named after the priest, and Mark happily babbled at her. The smallest slept, then awoke crying. June deftly gave him his comforter and gently patted his hair until he slept again.
"You're good at this", Sanne said, "Do you have kids of your own?"
June felt that she was not prying, and answered non-committally. "I have no family, except for my elderly parents, living far away."
She asked to be let off at the bus-stop. Sanne gave her their phone number, and added: "Don't hesitate to call if you need a lift,"
"I'll need a 'phone first," June replied.
"Get one, we're heading into winter. And you should get a bike, too" Sanne added. "It's absolutely manageable by bike to town."
"Thanks for everything, and for the ride," June said waving.
June walked home alone, musing. "Peace". The word peace had been said repeatedly during mass. It had been almost the first and the last words spoken by the priest. And she felt more at peace than ever before.
* * * * * * * * *
På dansk
Her er et underligt mellemspil til historien om June. Det dukkede op fuldt færdigt i mit hoved for et par dage siden. Hvad synes I Passer det ind? Hvorfor eller hvorfor ikke? Kan i lide det?
Næste morgen blev June ramt af en mærkelig tanke. 'Det er søndag. Jeg vil gerne i kirke'. Hun fandt den lokale avis, en gammeldags én, der stadig angav tidspunkterne for gudstjenester i nærheden. Hun gennemgik listen. Alle de protestantiske gudstjenester var enten kl. 9 eller 10. For tidligt for hende at nå frem med bussen. Så var der en adventistgudstjeneste, der tilbød gudstjeneste og kaffe kl. 9.30. June havde nær spruttet sin morgenkaffe ud over avisen. Hendes respektløse forældre havde altid kaldt det lokale adventistmenighed for »Sankt Kaffe«. En pinsegudstjeneste kl. 10.30, det lød mere som noget for hende. Men desværre lå den for langt væk fra busstoppestedet til, at hun kunne nå det i tide. Så var der kun den katolske messe kl. 11 tilbage. Hun tænkte tilbage på sin barndoms rejser til Frankrig og Italien. Majestætiske gotiske eller romanske kirker, der duftede af røgelse og stearinlys. Smukke glasvinduer og gamle damer, der mumlede i hjørnerne. Hendes forældre havde været temmelig ligeglade og betragtet enhver form for religion som spild af tid. Dennis havde været en spotter. Men alligevel var deres børn blevet døbt i den lokale kirke, og både han og børnene var også blevet begravet der.
Hun besluttede at gå til messen. Hun klædte sig diskret, ankom et par minutter før messen begyndte og satte sig bagerst i kirken. Hun havde til hensigt at opføre sig som alle andre, og det var lettere, når man ikke sad forrest. Kirken var meget fyldt og egentlig ikke noget særligt: pseudogotisk, røde mursten både indvendigt og udvendigt, sparsomt indrettet, men med et par smukke glasmosaikvinduer, der forestillede Jesus, Maria og nogle helgener. Kun duften var den samme – beroligende, af røgelse, stearinlys og noget andet.
* * *
Præsten kom ind sammen med et par altertjenere, mens menigheden sang. Der var ingen, der spillede på orglet, og hun spekulerede på, om organisten mon var blevet syg.
Præsten virkede som en almindelig, venlig mand. Efter syndsbekendelsen – 'det var da en god indledning,' tænkte June – og lidt mere sang læste nogle fra menigheden passager op fra Bibelen, mens de alle sad ned. Derefter rejste de sig, mens præsten læste op fra Bibelen. Indtil videre intet mærkeligt. Prædiken, trosbekendelse, hvor forsagelsen af djævelen og det onde manglede – mon det var på grund af syndsbekendelsen i begyndelsen? Kollekt, med kurve, der gik rundt og som folk lagde penge i; far havde ret, katolikker var et grådigt folkefærd. Så skete der noget anderledes: Brød og vin blev båret op til alteret af børn fra menigheden. Præsten tog imod dem, sagde en masse bønner, og pludselig gik det op for hende: Det er ligesom en genopførelse af den sidste nadver. Vi er disciplene, præsten er Kristus. Så knælede alle, og June med dem, og præsten tog brød og vin et efter et og sagde de samme ord, som Jesus havde sagt ved den sidste nadver: »Dette er mit legeme …, Dette er mit blod …« June spurgte Gud om alle sine 'hvorfor' og 'hvordan' om sit ægteskab og om sine kæres død. Hun fik ikke noget svar, men lige da hun løftede hovedet, løftede præsten brødet og vinen og sang nærmest: "Ved ham og med ham og i ham tilkommer dig, Gud Fader, den Almægtige, i Helligåndens enhed, al herlighed og ære fra evighed til evighed. Amen. Og så brød solen igennem skyerne og skinnede gennem et af de gule glasstykker direkte på hostien som præsten hold i vejret. Og hun følte sig fyldt af fred.
Hun rejste sig sammen med resten af menigheden, bad Fadervor og snublede lidt over, at præsten indflettede en bøn alene, før han kom til »Dit er riget«.
Præsten bad om fred, og kvinden ved siden af hende vendte sig mod hende og rakte hende hånden. June tog imod den udstrakte hånd, og kvinden sagde: »Fred være med dig!« June havde lagt mærke til kvinden tidligere; hun var sammen med sin mand og tre små børn. Hun havde stille og roligt ammet babyen under prædikenen, og nu sov den, lænet mod hendes hals.
Alle knælede igen, også June. Og så talte præsten til menigheden: »Jeg ved, at mange af de tilstedeværende her i dag ikke er katolikker, og selvom eukaristien er forbeholdt dem, der er i fuld kommunion med Kirken (June kunne høre det store bogstav), er alle velkomne til at modtage en velsignelse. Jeg ved det, når I lægger jeres højre hånd på jeres venstre skulder.« En velsignelse, tænkte June, ja, hvorfor ikke. Hun fulgte efter familien ved siden af hende. Manden tog de to små børn – de så ud til at være tre og to år gamle – mens kvinden fulgte efter med den sovende baby. Præsten gav de to små en velsignelse, og lagde en hostie til munden på begge forældre. En af alterdrengene smilede og vinkede i det skjulte til kvinden. June indså, at i det mindste han – og sandsynligvis også en større dreng – også var deres børn. Fem børn, og de så så lykkelige ud. June lagde i forvirringen venstre hånd på højre skulder; præsten smilede til hende og gjorde korsets tegn over hende.
Derefter knælede hun sammen med resten af menigheden endnu en gang – der var langt mere knælen, ståen, korstegn og den slags end der havde været til de messer, hun havde været til som en del af sin konfirmationsforberedelse. Man skulle også bede med, ikke bare lytte og synge. Hun havde hørt noget om aktiv deltagelse; det måtte være det her.
Messen sluttede med meddelelser om begivenheder i den kommende uge, øvelser til den første hellige kommunion og kirkekaffe efter messen. June smilede igen. Sankt Kaffe boede altså også her. Og så den afsluttende velsignelse og »Messen er slut, gå bort med Kristi fred.«
Uden for kirken vendte moren til fem sig mod June: »Du er ny her, kommer du med til kirkekaffe?«
June kiggede på sit ur. Ti minutter til den næste bus og derefter ville der først gå en om to timer. »Nej, tak,« svarede hun. »Jeg skal nå en bus enten om ti minutter eller om to timer og ti minutter. Det bliver lidt sent.«
Kvinden spurgte June, hvilken bus det var, og da hun hørte nummeret, tilbød hun at køre hende. »Vi bor i den næste by på den rute, og vi har en stor bil – det er vi nødt til med seks børn …« Hun blev afbrudt af de to drenge, der havde været alterdrenge under messen, og som kom løbende hen til hende.
»Klarede vi det ikke fint, mor?«
»Pater Andras lovede os en chokoladebar, hvis vi sad stille under messen og gjorde det, vi skulle.«
»I klarede det fint,« sagde kvinden, »jeg er sikker på, I får jeres bestikkelse.« De løb videre til det næste hus, og kvinden vendte sig mod June: »Kommer du med eller ej?«
»Måske næste gang,« sagde June. »Det var lidt overvældende. Men du siger seks børn – jeg kan kun se fem.«
»Åh, den ældste er væk – hun er forresten den eneste pige – hun er i Australien til Verdensungdomsdagene, hvor hun skal møde paven og se verden.«
»Australien,« udbrød June, »hvor gammel er hun … Åh, okay, jeg tager en kop kaffe, det lyder alt for interessant, og jeg er allerede for sent på den.«
June satte sig ved siden af Sanne og Jonah, hendes mand, og fik en overraskende god kop kaffe. Hun fortalte dem, at hun ikke var katolik – »Det havde vi gættet,« sagde Sanne – men var kommet, fordi det var den eneste gudstjeneste, der passede med busens køreplan.
Sanne fortalte lidt mere om Verdensungdomsdagene, en fantastisk begivenhed, der finder sted hvert andet år for alle mellem 18 og 25 år.
Derefter fortalte June om sin fars øgenavn, »Sankt Kaffe«, for arrangementer som dette, og fik dem begge til at grine. »Nogle katolikker kalder det det ottende sakramente,« sagde Jonah.
Opmuntret af dette fortsatte June: »Min far sagde også, at katolikker altid havde travlt med at samle penge ind, og det ser da ud til at være rigtigt.«
»Åh,« begyndte Sanne, og den ældste søn sagde: »Det passer ikke!«
»Ja, Daniel, forklar du det,« sagde Sanne, og Daniel fortsatte: »Ji, for det første er pengene symbolske; det er, som om vi giver os selv. Det er helt i orden kun at lægge en lille mønt i – det gør de fleste faktisk. Og så bliver vores offergaver – os selv – båret op til alteret, som om vi giver os selv til Gud. For det andet: Kirken i Danmark er langt fra rig. Vi får ingen skattepenge, og bygningerne skal repareres og opvarmes om vinteren, og præsterne skal jo også spise, ved du nok.”
»Sådan har jeg aldrig tænkt på det,« sagde June.
Turen hjem var hyggelig. Daniel og Peter, den næstældste, fortalte hende om nogle vilde lege ude i skoven, om at ride på heste og om en dum lærer i skolen. Andreas fortalte hende højtideligt, at han var opkaldt efter præsten, og Markus pludrede lystigt til hende. Den mindste sov, men vågnede grædende. June gav ham behændigt hans sut og klappede ham blidt på håret, indtil han faldt i søvn igen.
»Du er god til det her,« sagde Sanne, »har du selv børn?«
June følte ikke, at hun snagede, og svarede undvigende. »Jeg har ingen familie, bortset fra mine gamle forældre, der bor langt væk.«
Hun bad om at blive sat af ved busstoppestedet. Sanne gav hende deres telefonnummer og tilføjede: »Tøv ikke med at ringe, hvis du har brug for et lift.«
»Jeg skal først lige have en telefon,« svarede June.
»Skaf dig en, vi går vinteren i møde. Og du bør også skaffe dig en cykel,« tilføjede Sanne. »Det er helt overkommeligt at cykle ind til byen.«
»Tak for alt og for turen,« sagde June og vinkede.
June gik hjemad mens hun grublede. »Fred«. Ordet »fred« var blevet gentaget flere gange under messen. Det havde været både det første og sidste ord, præsten havde sagt. Og hun følte sig mere fredfyldt end nogensinde før.
Next morning June was hit by a strange thought. 'It's Sunday. I want to go to church.' She found the local paper, an old-fashioned one, still giving the time for church services nearby. She perused the list. All the evangelical ones were at 9 or 10. Too early for her to make it by bus. Then an Adventist one, offering service and coffee at 9.30. June spluttered., Her irreverent parents had always called the local Adventist community for Saint Coffee's. A Pentecostal service at 10.30, more like it. but alas too far away from the bus stop to make it in time. This left only the Catholic mass at 11. She thought back on her childhood travels to France and Italy. Majestic Gothic or Roman churches, smelling of frankincense and candles. Pretty windows, old ladies mumbling in the corners. Her parents had been rather indifferent, finding religion of any kind a waste of time. Dennis had been a scorner. But still their children had been baptised in the local church, and he and the children were buried there as well.
She decided to go to the mass. She dressed inconspicuously, came a few minutes before the mass began and sat down in a pew in the back of the church. She intended to behave as everybody else, and this was easier done when not sitting up front. The church was very full, and really nothing special, mock Gothic, red bricks inside and out, sparse but with a couple of nice glass mosaics windows depicting Jesus, Mary and some saints. Only the smell was the same, calming, incense and candles and something else.
The priest entered, preceded by a few altar servers while the congregation sang. Nobody played the organ, and she wondered if the organist had fallen ill.
The priest seemed to be an ordinary, kind man. After confession of sins, a nice thing, June thought. and some back and forth someone from the congregation read passages from the Bible while they all remained seated. Then they got up while the priest read from the Bible. So far nothing strange. Sermon, profession of the faith, missing the renunciation of the devil and evil - maybe due to the confession if sins in the beginning? Collecting of money, Dad was right there, Catholics were a greedy lot. Then came something different, Bread and wine were carried to the altar by children from the congregation. The priest took them, said a lot of prayers and suddenly it struck her: It is a re-enactment of the last supper. We're the disciples, the priest is Christ. Then everybody knelt, and June with them, And the priest took bread and wine one by one and said the words that Jesus had said at the last supper: This is my body ..., This is my blood ... June asked God all the whys and hows from her marriage and from the death of her dears one by one. She did not get an answer, but just as she raised her head, the priest lifted up the bread and wine and half sang: "Through him, and with him, and in him, O God, almighty Father, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, all glory and honour is yours, for ever and ever. Amen." And then the sun broke through the clouds and shone through one of the yellow pieces of glass directly on the elevated host. And she felt at peace.
She got up with the rest of the congregation, said the Lord's prayer, stumbling a bit over the inclusion of some prayer by the priest alone before the Thine is the kingdom piece.
The priest prayed for peace, and the woman next to her turned to her and extended her hand. June took the offered hand, and the woman said: "Peace be with you!" June had noticed the woman earlier, she was together with her husband and three small children, She had quietly been nursing the baby during the sermon, and now it slept, leaning against her neck.
Everybody knelt again, also June. And then the priest spoke to the congregation:"I know many present here today are not Catholics, and while the Eucharist is reserved for those in full communion with the Church (June could hear the capital letter), everybody is welcome to have a blessing. I'll know by your placing your right hand on your left shoulder. A blessing, June mused, yes, why not. In for a lamb, in for a sheep - she almost laughed out loud. Jesus had been called the lamb of God a short while ago. She followed the family next tho her, The man took the two toddlers, they looked to be three and two years old, while the woman followed carrying the sleeping baby. The priest gave the two small ones a blessing, also the sleeping baby, and placed the sacred hose in the mouth of both parents. One of the altar servers smiled and surreptitiously waved at the woman. June realised that at least he, and probably a bigger one too, also belonged to the couple. Five children, and they looked so happy. June hurriedly placed left hand on her right shoulder, the priest smiled at her and made the sign of the cross over her.
Then she knelt with the rest of the congregation once again - much more kneeling, standing, blessing and such were happening than during the masses she had been to during religious teaching in school. Also you had to pray along, not only listen and sing hymns. She had heard something about active participation; this must be it.
The mass ended with announcements of things happening in the coming week, rehearsals for first holy communion, and coffee after mass. June smiled again. Saint Coffee's lived here too. And then the final blessing, and "The Mass is ended, go in peace."
Outside the church the mother of five turned to June: "You're new here, are you coming for coffee?"
June looked at her watch. Ten minutes to the next bus and then a two hours interval. "No, thanks," she replied. "I have to catch a bus either in ten minutes or in two hours and ten minutes. It'll be too late."
The woman asked June which bus and after hearing the number offered to take her. "We live in the next town on that route, and we have a big car, have to with six kids ..." she was interrupted by the two boys having served at mass who came running to her.
"Did we do OK, mummy?"
"Pater Andrew promised us a chocolate bar if we sat quietly during mass and did our job."
"You did fine," the woman said, "I'm sure you'll have your bribe." They ran off to the next house, and the woman turned to June, "Are you coming or not?"
"Maybe next time," June said. "It was rather overwhelming, But six kids you say, I see only five."
"Oh, the oldest is missing, she's the only girl by the way, she's in Australia with the World Youth days, meeting the Pope, seeing the world."
"Australia," June blurted, "how old is she ... Oh, OK, I'll tag along for coffee, this sounds too interesting, and I'm half late already."
June sat next to Sanne and Jonah, her husband, and had a surprisingly good cup of coffee. She told them that she was not a Catholic - "We guessed" Sanne said - but had come because it was the only service matching the bus' time table.
Sanne told a bit more of the World Youth days, an amazing biennial happening for all between 18 and 25 years of age.
Then June told of her father's nickname, Saint Coffee's, for arrangements like this, and had them both laughing "Some Catholics call it the eighth sacrament," Jonah said.
Emboldened by this, June continued: "My father also said Catholics were always busy collecting money, and what I saw today confirmed this.
"Oh," Sanne began, and the oldest son sad "No way!"
"Yes, Daniel, please explain," Sanne said, and Daniel continued. "You see, first, the money are symbolic, it't like we're giving us. It's OK to put in only a small coin - most do actually. And then our offerings - us - are carried to the altar, as if giving us to God. Secondly. The Church in Denmark is very far from rich. We do not get any tax money, and the buildings need repair and heating in winter, and priests have to eat too, you know."
"I never thought of it this way," June said.
The drive home was cosy. Daniel and Peter, the next oldest, told her about some wild games in the woods, of riding horses, and of a stupid teacher at school. Andrew told her solemnly that he was named after the priest, and Mark happily babbled at her. The smallest slept, then awoke crying. June deftly gave him his comforter and gently patted his hair until he slept again.
"You're good at this", Sanne said, "Do you have kids of your own?"
June felt that she was not prying, and answered non-committally. "I have no family, except for my elderly parents, living far away."
She asked to be let off at the bus-stop. Sanne gave her their phone number, and added: "Don't hesitate to call if you need a lift,"
"I'll need a 'phone first," June replied.
"Get one, we're heading into winter. And you should get a bike, too" Sanne added. "It's absolutely manageable by bike to town."
"Thanks for everything, and for the ride," June said waving.
June walked home alone, musing. "Peace". The word peace had been said repeatedly during mass. It had been almost the first and the last words spoken by the priest. And she felt more at peace than ever before.
* * * * * * * * *
På dansk
Her er et underligt mellemspil til historien om June. Det dukkede op fuldt færdigt i mit hoved for et par dage siden. Hvad synes I Passer det ind? Hvorfor eller hvorfor ikke? Kan i lide det?
Næste morgen blev June ramt af en mærkelig tanke. 'Det er søndag. Jeg vil gerne i kirke'. Hun fandt den lokale avis, en gammeldags én, der stadig angav tidspunkterne for gudstjenester i nærheden. Hun gennemgik listen. Alle de protestantiske gudstjenester var enten kl. 9 eller 10. For tidligt for hende at nå frem med bussen. Så var der en adventistgudstjeneste, der tilbød gudstjeneste og kaffe kl. 9.30. June havde nær spruttet sin morgenkaffe ud over avisen. Hendes respektløse forældre havde altid kaldt det lokale adventistmenighed for »Sankt Kaffe«. En pinsegudstjeneste kl. 10.30, det lød mere som noget for hende. Men desværre lå den for langt væk fra busstoppestedet til, at hun kunne nå det i tide. Så var der kun den katolske messe kl. 11 tilbage. Hun tænkte tilbage på sin barndoms rejser til Frankrig og Italien. Majestætiske gotiske eller romanske kirker, der duftede af røgelse og stearinlys. Smukke glasvinduer og gamle damer, der mumlede i hjørnerne. Hendes forældre havde været temmelig ligeglade og betragtet enhver form for religion som spild af tid. Dennis havde været en spotter. Men alligevel var deres børn blevet døbt i den lokale kirke, og både han og børnene var også blevet begravet der.
Hun besluttede at gå til messen. Hun klædte sig diskret, ankom et par minutter før messen begyndte og satte sig bagerst i kirken. Hun havde til hensigt at opføre sig som alle andre, og det var lettere, når man ikke sad forrest. Kirken var meget fyldt og egentlig ikke noget særligt: pseudogotisk, røde mursten både indvendigt og udvendigt, sparsomt indrettet, men med et par smukke glasmosaikvinduer, der forestillede Jesus, Maria og nogle helgener. Kun duften var den samme – beroligende, af røgelse, stearinlys og noget andet.
* * *
Præsten kom ind sammen med et par altertjenere, mens menigheden sang. Der var ingen, der spillede på orglet, og hun spekulerede på, om organisten mon var blevet syg.
Præsten virkede som en almindelig, venlig mand. Efter syndsbekendelsen – 'det var da en god indledning,' tænkte June – og lidt mere sang læste nogle fra menigheden passager op fra Bibelen, mens de alle sad ned. Derefter rejste de sig, mens præsten læste op fra Bibelen. Indtil videre intet mærkeligt. Prædiken, trosbekendelse, hvor forsagelsen af djævelen og det onde manglede – mon det var på grund af syndsbekendelsen i begyndelsen? Kollekt, med kurve, der gik rundt og som folk lagde penge i; far havde ret, katolikker var et grådigt folkefærd. Så skete der noget anderledes: Brød og vin blev båret op til alteret af børn fra menigheden. Præsten tog imod dem, sagde en masse bønner, og pludselig gik det op for hende: Det er ligesom en genopførelse af den sidste nadver. Vi er disciplene, præsten er Kristus. Så knælede alle, og June med dem, og præsten tog brød og vin et efter et og sagde de samme ord, som Jesus havde sagt ved den sidste nadver: »Dette er mit legeme …, Dette er mit blod …« June spurgte Gud om alle sine 'hvorfor' og 'hvordan' om sit ægteskab og om sine kæres død. Hun fik ikke noget svar, men lige da hun løftede hovedet, løftede præsten brødet og vinen og sang nærmest: "Ved ham og med ham og i ham tilkommer dig, Gud Fader, den Almægtige, i Helligåndens enhed, al herlighed og ære fra evighed til evighed. Amen. Og så brød solen igennem skyerne og skinnede gennem et af de gule glasstykker direkte på hostien som præsten hold i vejret. Og hun følte sig fyldt af fred.
Hun rejste sig sammen med resten af menigheden, bad Fadervor og snublede lidt over, at præsten indflettede en bøn alene, før han kom til »Dit er riget«.
Præsten bad om fred, og kvinden ved siden af hende vendte sig mod hende og rakte hende hånden. June tog imod den udstrakte hånd, og kvinden sagde: »Fred være med dig!« June havde lagt mærke til kvinden tidligere; hun var sammen med sin mand og tre små børn. Hun havde stille og roligt ammet babyen under prædikenen, og nu sov den, lænet mod hendes hals.
Alle knælede igen, også June. Og så talte præsten til menigheden: »Jeg ved, at mange af de tilstedeværende her i dag ikke er katolikker, og selvom eukaristien er forbeholdt dem, der er i fuld kommunion med Kirken (June kunne høre det store bogstav), er alle velkomne til at modtage en velsignelse. Jeg ved det, når I lægger jeres højre hånd på jeres venstre skulder.« En velsignelse, tænkte June, ja, hvorfor ikke. Hun fulgte efter familien ved siden af hende. Manden tog de to små børn – de så ud til at være tre og to år gamle – mens kvinden fulgte efter med den sovende baby. Præsten gav de to små en velsignelse, og lagde en hostie til munden på begge forældre. En af alterdrengene smilede og vinkede i det skjulte til kvinden. June indså, at i det mindste han – og sandsynligvis også en større dreng – også var deres børn. Fem børn, og de så så lykkelige ud. June lagde i forvirringen venstre hånd på højre skulder; præsten smilede til hende og gjorde korsets tegn over hende.
Derefter knælede hun sammen med resten af menigheden endnu en gang – der var langt mere knælen, ståen, korstegn og den slags end der havde været til de messer, hun havde været til som en del af sin konfirmationsforberedelse. Man skulle også bede med, ikke bare lytte og synge. Hun havde hørt noget om aktiv deltagelse; det måtte være det her.
Messen sluttede med meddelelser om begivenheder i den kommende uge, øvelser til den første hellige kommunion og kirkekaffe efter messen. June smilede igen. Sankt Kaffe boede altså også her. Og så den afsluttende velsignelse og »Messen er slut, gå bort med Kristi fred.«
Uden for kirken vendte moren til fem sig mod June: »Du er ny her, kommer du med til kirkekaffe?«
June kiggede på sit ur. Ti minutter til den næste bus og derefter ville der først gå en om to timer. »Nej, tak,« svarede hun. »Jeg skal nå en bus enten om ti minutter eller om to timer og ti minutter. Det bliver lidt sent.«
Kvinden spurgte June, hvilken bus det var, og da hun hørte nummeret, tilbød hun at køre hende. »Vi bor i den næste by på den rute, og vi har en stor bil – det er vi nødt til med seks børn …« Hun blev afbrudt af de to drenge, der havde været alterdrenge under messen, og som kom løbende hen til hende.
»Klarede vi det ikke fint, mor?«
»Pater Andras lovede os en chokoladebar, hvis vi sad stille under messen og gjorde det, vi skulle.«
»I klarede det fint,« sagde kvinden, »jeg er sikker på, I får jeres bestikkelse.« De løb videre til det næste hus, og kvinden vendte sig mod June: »Kommer du med eller ej?«
»Måske næste gang,« sagde June. »Det var lidt overvældende. Men du siger seks børn – jeg kan kun se fem.«
»Åh, den ældste er væk – hun er forresten den eneste pige – hun er i Australien til Verdensungdomsdagene, hvor hun skal møde paven og se verden.«
»Australien,« udbrød June, »hvor gammel er hun … Åh, okay, jeg tager en kop kaffe, det lyder alt for interessant, og jeg er allerede for sent på den.«
June satte sig ved siden af Sanne og Jonah, hendes mand, og fik en overraskende god kop kaffe. Hun fortalte dem, at hun ikke var katolik – »Det havde vi gættet,« sagde Sanne – men var kommet, fordi det var den eneste gudstjeneste, der passede med busens køreplan.
Sanne fortalte lidt mere om Verdensungdomsdagene, en fantastisk begivenhed, der finder sted hvert andet år for alle mellem 18 og 25 år.
Derefter fortalte June om sin fars øgenavn, »Sankt Kaffe«, for arrangementer som dette, og fik dem begge til at grine. »Nogle katolikker kalder det det ottende sakramente,« sagde Jonah.
Opmuntret af dette fortsatte June: »Min far sagde også, at katolikker altid havde travlt med at samle penge ind, og det ser da ud til at være rigtigt.«
»Åh,« begyndte Sanne, og den ældste søn sagde: »Det passer ikke!«
»Ja, Daniel, forklar du det,« sagde Sanne, og Daniel fortsatte: »Ji, for det første er pengene symbolske; det er, som om vi giver os selv. Det er helt i orden kun at lægge en lille mønt i – det gør de fleste faktisk. Og så bliver vores offergaver – os selv – båret op til alteret, som om vi giver os selv til Gud. For det andet: Kirken i Danmark er langt fra rig. Vi får ingen skattepenge, og bygningerne skal repareres og opvarmes om vinteren, og præsterne skal jo også spise, ved du nok.”
»Sådan har jeg aldrig tænkt på det,« sagde June.
Turen hjem var hyggelig. Daniel og Peter, den næstældste, fortalte hende om nogle vilde lege ude i skoven, om at ride på heste og om en dum lærer i skolen. Andreas fortalte hende højtideligt, at han var opkaldt efter præsten, og Markus pludrede lystigt til hende. Den mindste sov, men vågnede grædende. June gav ham behændigt hans sut og klappede ham blidt på håret, indtil han faldt i søvn igen.
»Du er god til det her,« sagde Sanne, »har du selv børn?«
June følte ikke, at hun snagede, og svarede undvigende. »Jeg har ingen familie, bortset fra mine gamle forældre, der bor langt væk.«
Hun bad om at blive sat af ved busstoppestedet. Sanne gav hende deres telefonnummer og tilføjede: »Tøv ikke med at ringe, hvis du har brug for et lift.«
»Jeg skal først lige have en telefon,« svarede June.
»Skaf dig en, vi går vinteren i møde. Og du bør også skaffe dig en cykel,« tilføjede Sanne. »Det er helt overkommeligt at cykle ind til byen.«
»Tak for alt og for turen,« sagde June og vinkede.
June gik hjemad mens hun grublede. »Fred«. Ordet »fred« var blevet gentaget flere gange under messen. Det havde været både det første og sidste ord, præsten havde sagt. Og hun følte sig mere fredfyldt end nogensinde før.
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