Poetry Monday :: Notes

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

It's Summer holidays in the Owlery and surroundings. We're busy doing nothing and everything. MotherOwl is also still busy gathering her notes for last Wednesday's chapter of Unicorn Farm ... still thinking, writing and deleting. If this was in the days gone by, my eraser would be worn down by now.  

It's Summer holidays.
All my notes have blown away.

Gardening notes,
Magical notes,
Musical notes,
Weaving notes ...

All my notes are blown away.
I hope they will be back some day.

♫ 🎶 ♬ ♬ ♫ 🎶 🎝 🎜 ♬ ♫ 🎶

Poetry Monday :: Gardening

Delores of Mumblings and Jenny of Procrastinating Donkey are taking turns hosting Poetry Monday.
Today's theme is Gardening (courtesy of Delores). 
Last Monday's Italian verses are still with me, and this Monday's poem is an amalgamation of the idea behind the lines "il muratore non murerà, il pescatore non pescherà ... Il fumaiolo non fumerà, il girasole non girerà" from Nonna-ni-nonnina and the tune from one of the other songs Pescatori del Canada (originally Fellow from Fortune) and the theme, gardening.  

Oh I am gardening in my garden,
Some kind of schooling happens at school.
But I'm not housing when I work indoors.
Now I am feeling kind of a fool.

Yes I am gardening in my garden,
I am shopping inside a shop,
But I'm not lifting inside a lift, no
Oh my dear maybe it's time to stop

When I am gardening in my garden,
I am weeding, pulling my weeds,
But I wonder if I am seeding
Carefully sowing precious seeds.

Words for Wednesday - Unicorn Farm - Easter Holiday 2

In June 2019 WiseWebWoman is providing the prompts. 
I continue the story where I left off last Wednesday: the first Easter holiday at Unicorn farm, Studies in magic has been taking place all through Summer holidays, Autumn week, Christmas holidays and Spring week. The Easter Holiday "term" brings with it exams and tests and new subjects.  

This week's words are: 

Paddock
Bridge
Cane
Moss

and/or

Lilac
Espresso
Fountain Pen
Peroxide


When all the apprentices on the green team had changed into their school wear, they crossed the narrow moss clad bridge at the far end of the school meadows. It was cool, actually it was cold. It was a clear, crisp Spring morning. The lilac bushes at the far side of the bridge was filled with buds in promise of the coming summer, and the skies were blue; but a wind was blowing in from the sea, and it was bitterly cold. Rosa and Kirstin began shivering in the wind. "Stop!" Thora said. "don't you remember your snow magic lessons. There's no reason to be cold, and maybe even ill again," she said with a stern glance at Kirstin and Rosa. With an embarrassed smile many of the apprentices drew their wands and soon steaming jets of green, red, golden, white and blue tinted swirls kept them all warm.
Inside the paddock on the far side of the bridge were some of the most beautiful horses Susan had ever seen. "Those are hippocampi," Thora said. "We have an exceptional breed of hippocampi here on this island. We're very lucky that this part of the island has been declared a nature reserve, and people are discouraged from going here with chains and official signs. This small part of the reserve does not contain any of the protected bird species. We have grasped the chance to have a breeding station for hippocampi and other magical beasts here. This is where your lessons in cryptozoology will take place whenever it's not raining. 
"But," Veronika said speaking for more than one of them, "don't hippocampusses normally have fishtails and webbed hooves?"
"The correct plural is hippocampi, which you should have heard Thora using only a short while ago," Hilde said in her loud, grating voice.
"Yes, Hilde, they're correctly called hippocampi or hippocamps. And now to the far more interesting questions. Why do our friends here look almost like normal horses? Because they do indeed normally have fishtails, or tails like a whale or porpoise. That's what make this breed of hippocampi so very special, they are shape-shifters. Now try and make friends with them, you will find stacks of bamboo canes, a roll of string, scissors and small sacks of carrots by the fence, grab sack and a cane and tie a carrot to it with some string. And then slowly come close to one of the seahorses. They are not wild, but not used to many people at once, so please keep your voices low and avoid sudden and jerky movements. And do not try to ride them!" She looked over the paddock and back at the apprentices and called in a low, soft voice: "As there's not enough sea horses you've got to pair off." She pulled out an old fashioned ledger and a fountain pen. "Anna and Helge, Hilde and Josta, Kalle and Kirstin, Knud and Marja, Rosa and Susan, and finally Terje and Veronika."
After a momentary, quiet confusion, the apprentices were equipped with either a sack or a carrot on a stick.

They placed themselves in pairs some distance apart and dangled the carrot close to the nearest sea horse. The one closest to Susan and Rosa was a big bay. Its black tail and mane blew in the wind and they could see its nostrils quivering as it smelled the carrot. Slowly it came closer. "Do you know anything of horses?" Susan quickly asked Rosa in a low voice.
"Not much," Rosa admitted, "of course we have lots of horses in Iceland, but we live in town. Kirstin's father, my uncle, breeds a few horses, but he always told me I was too small for riding them." The beautiful horse came closer and Susan slowly pulled the carrot closer and closer. Rosa held a carrot on the palm of her hand, and obviously that one smelt better, because the horse nimbly picked the carrot from Rosa's hand and started munching it with a very loud crunching sound. Both girls giggled softly at the surprisingly loud noise, The horse whinnied back, It sounded like it too laughed at them. The horse came closer still and started sniffing Rosa,s clothes and hands.
"Oh, horsie, you're tickling me," Rosa said quietly. Susan took another carrot from their  small sack and emulating Rosa she presented the carrot on her extended palm.
"Yes!" Thora sad behind them, "That's the way to go. Rosa, I'm sure you can place a hand on his neck now. Nice and easy." Then she was gone again. Rosa gingerly extended her hand and placed it on the neck of the sea horse.
"Wow, it feels wet and seaweedy to my touch," Rosa said.
Susan fed the horse yet another carrot and placed her hand on it's neck as well. The sea horse's mane fell over her hand, stiff and wet to the feel. "Yes, he feels like he has just come out of the sea, not at all as he looks. I wonder if they are true shapeshifters, or only good at illusions?"
While Susan fed the horse even more carrots in small bites, Rosa went to the side of the horse, She patted its back and rump, all the while emitting soothing sounds. "Well his hind quarters feels like a normal horse's down here," Rosa said, "although all his skin has the same wet feel and his tail feels even more like seaweeds."
"Like the mane does also," Susan answered.
A commotion made them both look up. Hilde and Josta had lured their horse close to the fence, and now Hilde tried to mount it.
"Stop it. Now!" Thora called in a soft yet penetrating voice, startling the sea horses nearest to her. Terje and Veronika's white mare reared, Terje ducked, but the dancing hooves hit his chest with enough force to push him over in the grass. Anna let go of the horse she and Helge had been examining. It turned around and cantered off to the left where the fence went down to the water. Susan, Rosa, Helge, Anna and some of the others saw the brown form ripple and flow like water and a tail grew where the hindquarters had been moments before. Then the sea horse took to the waves.
Susan had her hands entwined in the weedy mane of the horse, her mouth close to its ear, singing small crazy songs to it. It startled at the sound of Thora's voice, but did not flee. Rosa praised it, calling him a sensible, beautiful horse, and Susan handed him another carrot.
Thora stood, her wand in her hand, casting a spell at the hippocampus carrying Hilde away towards the water. It stopped, in it's tracks as hit by something heavy. Then Thora ran to the horse and pulled Hilde off its back with more force than seemed to be in her smallish form. "Hilde, you foolish girl. You are a terrible know-all. and then you do not even know the bare essentials on hippocampi.  Didn't you listen when I told you not to mount them?" Hilde murmured something inaudible and Thora pulled her back to where Josta stood by the fence. You two go back to the Farm now and wait for us in the barn. As Hilde and Josta left, she freed the sea horse from the spell, and stroked its mane, speaking gentle words and feeding it sugared kelp bites from a pocket in her cloak. When it had quieted down, she sent it off with a gentle pat on the rump. The she went over to where Kalle and Kirstin stood. Kirstin still had a grasp on their grey stallion, it neighed and tossed its head, but it was obvious that Kirstin knew how to handle a horse.
"You're doing fine Kirstin. It looks as if sea horses are not that different from the ones your father breeds," Thora said in a kind voice.
"They do not look that different, but the feel of him is not as he looks."
The other apprentices drew closer, the pairs still tending a sea horse leading them with a hand in the mane or a dangling carrot. Knud looked extremely uncomfortable, Marja did not look much more happy with the situation, but luckily their hippocampus was a young, grey mare, docile and curious.
"And here we end this lesson," Thora said. Pat your sea horse gently, give it one last carrot, and then we gather in the green room. You have 15 minutes to get there, and bring writing materials and paper. You'll need it.  And Terje, you come with me, you'll need some peroxide on those scratches. And I need some coffee, preferably an espresso before we meet again."
The big boy nodded, and followed Thora.

The other apprentices hurried over the bridge, through the meadows and inside the farm. Susan, Knud, Rosa, Helge and Kirstin walked together, talking.

Jeg vokser alligevel -- Defiantly growing

     For nogen  tid siden fik vi øje på dette træ. Det groede ovenpå en stop-bom for enden af et spor på Hillerød station.
     Vi diskuterede hvor længe det mon havde groet der og undrede os over hvordan det havde overlevet sommeren 2018, der jo var lang, varm og tør. Og vi fantaserede om venlige togmænd, der delte deres vandflasker med det stakkels træ.

-- 🌳 --

Some time ago, we noticed this tree. It sure was defiantly growing on top of a stop-thingie at the end of a train track at the train-station in Hillerød. We talked about this growing tree, how old it might be, and how it survived the very hot and dry Summer of 2018, and had different solutions, including kind train persons sharing their water bottles with the poor, thirsty tree.

     I dag skulle vi så igen med toget, og skulle selvfølgelig lige kigge til det trodsige træ. Men det havde fået en ulykkelig ende med det. Nogen ... vandaler eller måske en sur banemand ... havde knækket træet over helt nede ved bommen.

-- 🌳 --

Today we once again passed this tree, and of course we had to check on the defiant tree, to see how it thrived.
But it had come to a sad ending for the defiantly growing tree. Somebody, either a scoundrel or an angry train person, had broken off the tree at its base.

     Og sådan endte endn et trodsigt træ sit liv.

-- 🌳 --

And this was the end of another defiant tree.

Poetry Monday :: Drone

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

And today MotherOwl is a bit crazy. The Summer holidays have begun, and the only thing drone made me think of, was an Italian children's song. 
Many years ago, when Big Sister and Big Brother were small, we went on a holiday to Italy.  To keep those two amused during mass, we bought some Italian kids' magazines - as the two did not yet read it was no problem that they were written in Italian ;) And as all that kind of magazines, these also had small gifts enclosed. I don't remember the other ones, but one of them was a CD with Zecchino d'oro. When we arrived back home we listened to the songs and laughed and learned from the amusing tunes it contained.  
One of the songs was called Nonna ni nonnina (link to YouTube to hear the song) where the chorus tells of a humming granny. And now we finally reached the connection to today's theme. Drone.
Here's my try at a translation:


Nonna ni nonnina
 In the sofa the cat's asleep,
all alone like me,
'cause my mamma's not staying with me.
She's out working with my papa,
it's not bad you see,
Nonna here she takes good care of me.
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear nonna she will surely drone away. 

Tell me, Nonna it's true that once,
long, long time ago.
That my Papa he also was small
Is it true that you carried him
in your arms like me,
just as great and big as he is?
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear nonna she will surely drone away. 

All the children, you say to me,
Why, but Nonna why,
they are all so much better than me.
When my Mamma arrive tonight
Nonna, tell her that
I have been such a good girl today.
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear Nonna she will surely drone away. 

[Instrumental]
     Nonna ni nonnina, tomorrow is festa din don da.
     When we wake the town'll be filled with coloured flags
     And all the smokestacks will stop to smoke
     And all the pokers will stop their poke
     But my dear Nonna she will surely drone away

     All the sunflowers' going to shine
     And all the belfrys' going to chime,
     And my dear Nonna she will surely drone away.