Håb -- Hope

     I går var det "Poetry Monday". Dagens emne var håb. Men Uglemor glemte at tale om en af de mest fantastiske og stædige former for håb der findes i denne verden: Et frø.

-- 🌱 --

Yesterday was Poetry Monday, and the theme was Hope. MotherOwl in her moping corner forgot to talk about one of the most common and most persistent forms of hope. The one packed in a seed.

- - -

   I går såede Uglemor endnu flere frø. Solhat, skønhedsøje, gamle japansk Indigo - det er at håbe mod bedre vidende, da de ikke skulle kunne spire. Men håbet lever, og Uglemor håber at frøene lever op til det.

-- 🌱 --

Yesterday MotherOwl sowed even more seeds. Purple coneflower, tickseed and dyer's knotweed. The last one from old seeds -- hoping against wisdom, as the do not normally germinate when old.  But MotherOwl hopes that the flowers will all grow and be as pretty and prolific as in her mind right now.

Poetry Monday :: Hope

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

I have not written a serious take on Hope, as maybe I should have considering looming ecological disasters, upcoming elections with known racists trying to get elected and so on, and so on. But it is not going to happen. This time I wanted to try an idea, rattling around in my old brain. Namely find all the words rhyming with the given word and make a rambling nonsensical verse in the style of the Danish Halfdan Rasmussen and the American Dr. Seuss. It was what Jenny-o did last Monday, and with much more luck than my feeble lines.


Full of  hope
you can cope
And say nope
to the dope
It's a slippery slope!

In the bathroom we grope
for the last bit of soap
at the end of the rope.
And when lovers elope
and the grey antelope
sends a red envelope
to the monkeys that mope.
It's beyond even the scope
of a friendly old pope.
To bring reason and hope
to this wacky old trope
of an old misanthrope.

Fundne Sager -- Lost and Found

  En kommentar fra Pia sendte Uglemor ud på en længere flyvetur i internettets afkroge. Derude landede hun i Waterfox og slog sig ned og begyndte at bygge rede. Nu justerer hun lige et par grene her og der og pudser fjerene efter flyveturen, men det føles allerede meget hjemligt.
     Der er et par ting, der stadig ikke virker. Blandt andet den danske stavekontrol, så bær over med mig, hvis der er flere stavefejl end sædvanligt. Og så er der altså noget med farver og dimser her på bloggen. Her, i Waterfox er hjerter, salmialkker og rosen sort/hvide, kun ræven er i farver. Det er anderledes i andre browsere. Uglemor fatter ikke noget.

-- 🦊 -- 

A comment from Pia sent MotherOwl down a rabbit hole ending in MotherOwl building a new nest with the Waterfox. Now she's happily shifting branches and fluffing her feathers, it already feels a lot like home. One strange thing, all the small thingies, MotherOwl is using between text blocks have somehow lost their colours. The fox is in colour, but the heart, the diamonds and the rose is black and white - not so in Firefox. MotherOwl is clueless.

-- 🔹💛🔹 --

     De to gule roser Uglemor skrev om i A-Zudfordringen er søreme overlevet. Og den tredje, som Uglemor havde opgivet, men ikke smidt ud endnu fik også små, grønne skud.

-- 🌹 --

The two yellow roses that were the subject for R in the i A-Z Challenge did indeed survive. And the third one, placed in a corner, but not totally forgotten, surprised by producing fresh, green leaves as well.

De to gule roser i potten har det fint  - 🌹-The two yellow roses in the big pot has really grown

Den 3. rose er også i live, den får også sin egen potte - 🌹- The third rose is alive as well. It will get its own pot soon.

Et par billeder -- Some Photos

     Uglemor kæmper stadig med browsere, tilføjelser, bogmærker og den slags. Men helt uden at blogge. går det ikke. Uglemor har været i gang med en del projekter i de forgangne dage - lyder det bekendt? Her er nogle billeder fra Uglemors liv.

-- 💻 --

MotherOwl is still fighting browsers, extensions, bookmarks and all that. But life without blogging is not MotherOwl's style. Projects have been begun. Does this sound like something we've heard before?
Here is a stack of photos from MotherOwl's life the last week or so.
If this post contains more typos than normally, it is because one of the extensions, that won't work as it used to, is the spellchecker.

En nyudsprungen askegren. Heldigvis sprang den ud før de lokale egetræer, det skulle betyde sol til sommer

-- ☼ --

An ashen branch with newly unfurled leaves. It was quicker thn the local oaks. According to an old saying this promises us lots of Sun in the coming summer.

Blomster og knopper fra Uglemors have:                         Flowers and buds from MotherOwl's garden:
Hyld, hvidtjørn og rabarber                                                                               Elder, hawthorn, rhubarb
Mælkebøtte, sødskærm (pausemonsteret)                                              Dandelion, cicely (the monster)
Jordbærblomster, der har fået frost                                                    Strawberries, damaged by the frost
Æblegren, horsetidsel, asketræ.                                                               Apple bough, spear thistle, ash.

En mælkebøtte. Billederne er taget henholdsvis på vej til og fra bussen på indkøb. Tallene i toppen er tiden for optagelsen.

-- 💛 --

A dandelion on my way to the bus and home again. The numbers on top is the time stamp.

Vejrudsigten for i morgen lover trist vejr

-- 😦 --

The forecast for tomorrow: Sad weather. (www.bedrevejr.dk - means better weather)

     Den hashi-bukuro alle stumperne kommer fra. Applikationen forestiller en fuurin - en vindharpe af glas - en japansk sommerting.

-- 🎐 --

The hashi-bukuro all the ORTs came from. The applique is a fuurin - a Japanese wind chime, a symbol of summer.

     Uglemor og Piraten såede squash og græskar. De spirer nu, og hvilke nogle spirer!

-- 🌱 --

MotherOwl and the Pirate sowed courgette and pumpkin seeds. They're sprouting now. Giant sprouts!

Susan - Holidays at home

 

In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts. They will be published by Elephant's Child. She tells us that This week's prompts are familiar phrases

Sun over the yardarm

And/ or

Going commando

Those two phrases were not familiar to me - I rest somewhat reassured because they seemed to be totally unknown to a lot of English speaking participants in this fun as well. I used a dictionary and discovered that the sun is over the yardarm means that it is late enough in the day to drink alcoholic beverages, and to be going commando is to go without underwear - I suppose mostly without underpants. In the seventies we had a Danish pop hit called "I'll never go commando at the ball!"  
This led me to this cameo from Susan's non-magical life. 
The time is somewhere late in the first or early in the second year at The Unicorn Farm.

Friday was a national holiday. Tomorrow, Saturday, the family was going to an amusement park near Copenhagen.
They had needed money, well mostly Linda and Susan had, and the idea of a flea market had spawned in one of their discussions.
The sun was shining, and at 10 o'clock everything was ready. Susan and Linda had their small corner with surplus toys, comics and books. Mum and Dad had filled the rest of the tables with plates, pillows, bric-a-brac, books and beer.

Most of their family was present, and some neighbours and passers by as well. The passers by bought items for sale or looked at them at least, The neighbours had come for to talk it seemed, and the uncles were mostly in it for the beer.

Uncle Freddy yelled: "Folks, the sun is over the yardarm, let's have some beer."

"Oh, look at this!" Uncle Theodore said loudly to Susan. "This LP, I just love it - she states that she'll never go commando again. See, she's hitching up the skirt to give us a glimpse. I love her. Are you going commando tomorrow? I'd like to wait for you outside the funhouse if you do." Uncle Theodore's beery breath hit Susan's face, and she turned her head away. "Oh, playing shy we are," he added with a raucous laugh, pinching her cheek. Susan took her leave of uncle Theodore, claiming customers in her corner of the flea market.