Imagine - apropos a Facebook meme

 I wrote this years ago. Now it seems more in place than when I wrote it.

Imagine there's no heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today...

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...

You may say I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one
 - John Lennon, 1971.


I have no problem imagining all these things. My problem is imagining all these things simultaneously. Because this calls for a world filled with idealistic, altruistic people, who always opt for the common good. And history - and a simple look inside myself - tells me that humankind is not made like this. Or rather, we were made like this, then something happened. What that something was, what to call it, we do not agree. Some tell the story of a snake and an apple, some tell about shadows outside a cave, some about gods with many arms and gargantuan appetites, some about private property. But the fall of Man exists everywhere.
After this fall it's only the hope of reward or the fear of punishment, that makes people behave.
A brotherhood of man means that we have a common father, but mostly we act as a fatherless bunch.

 Eliza Jane gives a speech on her first day about how she intends to rule by love, not fear: "Birds in their little nests agree!" Laura and her friends find it embarrassing and don't think it will go over well when the older boys start school later in autumn ... as it turns out, they're all too right. (Somewhere in the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder, cited and translated from memory)

Naughty Soap 3

Today the naughty soap has cured and set, at least partially. It was de-moulded.

Sæben i dag, parat til at blive skåret

First the outer wooden mould was taken apart - it is built for this purpose.

Træformen kan skrues fra hinanden

Then the inner liner was removed, revealing a still layered soap in spite of my stirrings.
I made it bi-colour by adding spirulina powder to the last half of the soap mass before pouring. I suppose this might have helped bring on the volcanic activity.

Inderformen fjernes.
Sæben er stadig tofarvet, selvom jeg rørte rundt i den i går

The wooden mould serves a double purpose, it is a cutting box as well. If you embiggen the photo you can see the scored lines, I use for guide when cutting.

Formen er også skærekasse.
Linjerne lader mig skære sæberne lige store.

Cutting happens. Maybe it is a cheese slicer, maybe it was made for truffles. I found it on a flea market and it is perfect for the cutting of soap.

Dimsen, jeg skærer med er måske en ostehøvl - eller måske en trøfelskærer.
Den er i hvert fald perfekt til at skære sæbe med.

Here some of the cut soaps are laid out. The two top right are darker, more sombre. I had to take a break in cutting. They are oxidized. This will eventually happen to all the soaps.

De to øverst til højre har stået lidt og er iltet.
De ender alle sammen med at se sådan ud.

Stamping - I know from earlier years that I just can not remember which soap was what later on. W means Waldmeister, the German word for Sweet woodruffs, as the Danish letter B (for bukkar) is used for birch soaps.
The letters are parts of a BBQ meat branding iron I bought on clearance just because I liked it.

Man kan bare ikke huske hvilken sæbe, der er hvad.
W er for Waldmeister, det tyske ord for bukkar, eftersom B betyder birk.

The first and last slice of the soap bar are trial soaps, I have to try out the amount of pressure necessary for a clear imprint.
Sometimes I just feel like fooling around with other stamps, or maybe one of the Owlets wants to try his hand at stamping ;)
No soap leaves my house as a gift or in any other way before I have been bathing with one of these end slices and approved it.

Endeskiverne er til forsøg. Her er det en Ugleunge, der har fået lov at lege.
De kommer med i bad til godkendelse før sæberne forlader huset.

The soap here is still somewhat harsh. It'll have to cure for four to six weeks before I'll start using it. And during these weeks the sweet woodruff will do its magic trick. Right now the soap smells from nothing except lye, that is a smell most people associate with "clean". But some times during the coming weeks, I'll enter the room where the soaps are curing on racks and the sweet smell of spring will reach me.
How or why this happens, I have no idea. Woodruff is the only plant I have found so far giving a natural scent to soaps.
When the soaps are cured they will have a clean up. I'll bevel the edges, cut off any protruding corners and remove the burrs from the W's.
Then they're ready for use.

-- 🌿 --

Sæben her er stadig skrap mod  hænderne. Den skal stå i 4 til 6 uger og modne. I det tidrum vil bukkaren også udøve sin magi. Lige nu lugter sæberne kun af lud - en lugt de fleste siger bare lugter rent - men pluselig en dag kommer jeg ind i uglehulen, hvor sæberne ligger, og så dufter der grønt, af forår. Hvordan det sker, aner jeg ikke og bukkar er også den eneste plante, der kan få sæber til at dufte helt af sig selv.

Naughty Soap 2

I see from the comments to yesterday's post, that I am taking for granted that everybody knows how to make soap. It is professional blindnes or whatever it's called in English.

-- 🗨 --

    For en forklaring på dansk, se min sæbeblog om vulkansæber.

Here is the photo once again. It is a soap, I'm making.
I start by mixing lye (NaOH) and water (in this case woodruff tea) in one pot, and melting the fats, beeswax and oils in another
Then those are combined, stirred and poured in a mould when they begin to thicken.
After being put in the mould, the soap will heat up somewhat. This is the chemical process of turning fats and lye into soap, known as saponification. Sometimes the process runs a bit wild. That is what is happening here. The soap is overheating, becoming liquid and also darker, just like a volcano making ready for an eruption.

This photo, taken half an hour later, clearly shows how liquid the soap has become. I stirred it, because the corners do not normally heat up, leading to funny markings on some of the soaps.

This process is known as gelling, it is a sought after occurrence because the soap is then ready for use after de-moulding and cutting. This will happen tomorrow.
The soap will be better, have more longevity, after curing and dehydrating for 1 to 6 weeks. But I can use it tomorrow, only it's still kind of soft and bendy.
Photos of de-moulding and cutting will follow tomorrow.

Bare for sjov - Just for fun

     I dag lavede Uglemor bukkarsæbe. Den var meget uartig. Mon ikke den burde vaske munden med sæbe.

-- 😝 --

Today MotherOwl was soaping. Making cold process soap with sweet woodruffs for the smell. It was a naughty soap. Soap go wash your mouth with soap ..

Words for Wednesday -- Unicorn Farm - The End

  In May 2019 Margaret Adamson, and her friend Sue Fulcher are providing the prompts. They will be published by Elephant's Child.
 
 This week's prompts are two photos. I use only the first one. It is with trembling fingers I hit the Publish button.

Photo no. 1

Susan was in hospital for a long time. When she finally left, she was weak as a kitten, and allowed only short walks. Each day she walked a bit further.  She was bored, she could not read much, visitors tired her out, and she had almost no appetite. School had to wait. Her teacher came once or twice a week and tried to teach her, but she could do no math at all,  and her spelling was as usual so excellent, that there was no idea in training. It ended with the teacher mostly keeping Susan up to date with happenings in the school and in the world at large. Her voice was a deep alto, soothing to Susan's poor brain and not loud enough to bring on more headaches.
Slowly Susan was able to walk for longer bits, but her appetite and genral wellbeing were far from good.

In the Autumn holidays the weather was so exceptionally good, that mum and dad had the idea of one last trip to the Summer house on the Island. "You know, aunt Dina and uncle Kurt have decided to sell the house." Mum said.
"I think you told me, yes," Susan answered. "what a pity. now it is finished and everything, I mean. It is such a wonderful place, free and wild."

One of the last days there, Susan and her dad went for a walk. They came to the end of a paved road, and a house in two mirrored sections lay enclosed by naked stone dikes. 
"That house over there," Susan said, "that's a new one, isn't it?"
"Yes," dad said. "It was built while you were in hospital. Don't you remember the old one, it was low, yellow, thatched I think. It had a funny name. It burned the night your friends disappeared. All the trees were damaged in the fire as well. They had to remove them too."
"No," Susan said, "I don't remember. I don't remember much after our journey down here in the beginning of the summer holidays. I remember eating pancakes the first morning. I remember being very happy inside. I still feel that way ... just a bit. But I don't remember much more."
"Don't worry Susan," Dad said, patting her back. "The doctor said that your memory might continue to improve for a very long time. Concussions are unpredictable."