Words for Wednsday -- 2nd Instalment -- Unicorn Farm 19

1 - start 
2 - wicked 
3 - holiday 
4 - castle 
5 - infinite 
6 - goodbye

Susan is still thinking back on the chain of events leading to her first encounter with Persephone, the ghost girl in the attic. 
About half a year has passed in the past, Susan is thinking of. The hot summer, where Susan, Linda and her mother discovered the small room behind a secret door lies behind her. It is late winter, February or maybe March. This Winter is the Winter before the Summer where Susan arrives at the Unicorn Farm for the first time (I've not written about that in WfW, but I have several chapters written in Danish in my files).

Susan was disappointed. The visit had sounded nice from the start. She and Linda had gone with their parents to a friend's place. But the afternoon had turned into a wicked surprise. The landscape looked like something out of a commercial for winter holidays. Flowing, snowbound fields and a decrepit castle in the background. The house was old, with thatched roofs and blue doors and window frames; sure it was idyllic. But the wonderful landscape and the gently falling snow was not making up for Susan's disappointment. They were supposedly going out there to see some horses, or because the man had some horses. Linda thought of learning to ride in the coming summer and this man was somehow connected to a riding school. Susan had been thinking of her latest homework. She had not been very attentive. This was so not what she had expected. Thy were sat at makeshift tables in one end of a repurposed barn, there were lot of other people and they were most assuredly not going to look at any horses. Linda and many of the other children were playing some sort of hide and seek in the dark in the other end of the building. Only Susan of the older ones sat with a couple of toddlers and a few young ones feeling too mature to play.

The men were frying sausages, using a contraption her father, the friend, and one of the other men had built. It consisted of a wooden frame with two rows of spikes, connected to live wires. Sausages were then put on the spikes, and when the switch was flipped, the current ran from spike to spike through the sausages, making them steam and sizzle, emitting tantalizing smells. But Susan did not like it. The current did not like to be used in this way.
The grown ups drank a lot of beer. For once there was no lack of coke and other soft drinks for the children, but Susan did not like the way the grown ups -- her parents included -- changed when they drank beer.

As they ate the sausages, Linda tried to find out more about the horses, but Dad kept away, making more sausages, and Mom were no wiser.
"Bugger," her Mom said, a bit too loud. "I forgot to buy sugar as I went shopping. There's no sugar for your porridge and our tea tomorrow, Linda."
"Oh, Mom, how could you!" Linda screamed. 
That was Susan's chance. "Mom! I can go and buy some sugar. I'm sure I can make it to the supermarkets over at the new blocks before they close, and from there I can take a bus home. I've done that many times going home from Hanna's place."
"Are you sure, and won't you be cold. It's snowing quite a lot, you know."
"I know, Susan answered, "but I thought we were going out visiting a farm, and looking at horses in the snow, so I brought my sweater, anorak, warm sheepskin mittens, muffler, extra snow leggings and my long boots. I am dressed for a mile long walk through a minor blizzard. Just hand me some money for the sugar, and I'll be all right."
"OK." Susan's mother smiled foolishly. "I hate Linda's tempers. Here you are. Buy yourself some sweets while you're at it."

Susan dressed in her winter outfit and walked out in the falling snow. The weather had actually turned into a minor blizzard. The winds blew from all directions, the snow hurt her cheeks and nose, and she could hardly see the road. She stomped down the middle of the road, aiming for the lights of the main road up ahead.
The snow and the cold crept in between Susan's clothing, the wind pulled strands of hair from underneath her muffler and whipped them brutally into her eyes and over the bridge of her nose. Even though she went at a good pace, her hands and feet were slowly turning numb with the cold. She felt as if she had been walking forever in an infinite snowstorm, the lights seemed just as fa away as when she set out, the storm as relentless. She was never going to reach the new blocks alive, far less go shopping for sugar.
"Goodbye, cruel world," Susan thought. She had read that sentence somewhere, and it fit her mood.

Then she hit her shin against something hard. "Ouch!" she exclaimed. It was the guardrail on the main road, She had not even been able to see the lights through the falling snow, and had been heading for the old castle, where bright lights shone in the spires. Now she could follow the main road and with renewed energy she hurried along.
Just a few minutes before closing time Susan opened the door to the mini-market and blew in in a gust of snow and wind. The shopkeeper sold her a bag of sugar and a peppermint chocolate bar, Susan's favourite.  There were still money left, so Susan bought a bag of rock candies and some milk. The shopkeeper told her that the buses were still in service, although delays were inevitable. Susan thanked him, re-wound the muffler around her head and headed for the bus-stop.

to be continued - tomorrow I promise. 

Words for Wednesday - 30 January -- Unicorn Farm 18

This week's prompts are once again provided by Lissa at The Memory of Rain.
 

1. last day
2. zealot
3. homeward
4. listen
5. midnight
6. always

and/ or

1. start
2. wicked
3. holiday
4. castle
5. infinite
6. goodbye


This time I have used the first set of prompts - not because I can not use the other half, but this instalment has grown too long as it is. 

Following the example of  River at Drifting through Life, I've collected all the stories of Susan at the Unicorn Farm, that I've written so far as a part of the Words for Wednesday-challenge in a page called Unicorn Farm.

Once again I wrote a small chapter from my magical autobiography, and once again I took up the additional challenge of using the prompts in the order they were given.

A couple of weeks have passed since last Thursday's  chapter.  
Flash backs are indented and purple for ease of reading

The last day of January was as rainy and dreary as the rest of the month had been. Susan was despondent. Her teacher had berated her for not knowing the meaning of the word 'zealot', and now, walking homeward in the never ceasing rain, all she had to look forward to, was to listen to Linda's bragging over her good notes in maths. Maths was the only subject in school, Susan never really excelled in, she was always in the lover half of the class in maths, not bad, she just could not get herself to spend more time than necessary on numbers and fractions.
Much to her parents' chagrin she was way better than Linda or even them at languages.
"Give me languages," she thought, "or history, or even that dang-blasted Social studies, but maths ...Why can't mum and dad ever acknowledge all my good notes in English, German or even Latin. When Linda for once has scored an 11 all the world has to know. It's just not fair!"
She hung her wet coat on its peg and went straight to her room. She was the first person to be home. Dad was of course still at work, Mom was too - or maybe shopping, Susan couldn't remember if today was one of her short days or not. Alternating Thursdays she had to stay long hours to cash up after paying the workers at the shipyard. Where Linda was, was an open question. Only she herself knew, but their parents did not care very much, as long as they were home for dinner - or gave due notice, and were home at eight o'clock. As long as they did not get into trouble, they were free to spend their days as they liked. Susan liked the freedom it gave her to visit the library, to read up on her magic, to roam the nearby woods in summer, to go by bike to nearby cities as fancy took her, or just spend the whole day in her room, reading and eating candy. But today the house felt strangely abandoned.
Susan was restless, there was no new letter on the pillow. The last she had heard from Heidi was last Sunday. There was really nothing new. Neither Torben nor David had been back at the Farm as far as the twins had been able to find out. Actually nobody was at The Farm at all. Either Tue or Lis went there at least twice a week to check for signs of life.
Things were at a standstill. None of the siblings were able to recognise the foreigner from the airport, even though Stellan's photos were excellent. They did not want to bring their parents into it.
The only consolation to be had was what her granny's Dutch friend always said when someone was worrying: "Slecht nieuws heeft vlugge voetjes" (Bad news has quick feet - no news is good news).

Susan opened Spells and Cantrippes for Daily Use, but she did not read, slowly she realized she was reading the same two sentences over and over.
She was thinking of Percy the ghost girl, even though she was not around. Susan had remembered to put fresh flowers in the little room in the attic. Mum called it their guest room, but to Susan, and to Linda when she was in the mood, it was the door to another space and time.

Susan vividly remembered the summer's day when she had discovered the hinges behind the tapestry.
She, mum and Linda had been cleaning the room after dad no longer needed it for a darkroom.  Mum said they should make it into a guest room for when Granny came visiting. Susan and Linda had wanted to make a playroom up there. The room was eminently suited for both purposes, On the right hand  side of the room, as you entered the door there was a window, now uncovered and sparkling clean, letting in lots of light. Between the door and the window a small shell formed wash basin gleamed. Susan had spent long time scrubbing all the chemical stains from dad's developing of films from it. The tap even worked and mum had screwed up a hanger and had sewn towels matching the light yellow paint. Susan was dusting and cleaning the tapestry on the wall opposite the door, as she found the hinges. The top one was level with her nosetip.
"O look, here's a secret door!" Susan had exclaimed. "Let's open it."
"I'm sure you're wrong," her mother had said, "it is probably some old holders for photographs of your father's."
"No," Susan persisted, "there's one more down here, and I can just feel a crack between them. I'll go and get a knife." She went down into the basement, where her father was cutting wood for some mysterious project of his, he was clever with his hands, and made improvements in the home now and again. Susan borrowed his Stanley knife after promising only to cut away from herself and not let Linda play with it.
Susan carefully cut through the tapestry following the crack firs between the hinges, then from the lower hinge down to the floor, the from the upper hinge up, turning to the right she could just reach the top, and finally down even further right. She even asked Linda if she wanted to cut a little bit, surely that was not playing. Finally the door was free, but it was locked! "Well," Mom said, the tapestry on the door has to go." "Oh, no!" Linda and Susan said as one, "then the door is not a secret door any more."
"Come, let's see if we can find the keyhole." In the end Mom found it. She cut a neat hole in the tapestry just uncovering the keyhole. Underneath the tapestry was an old newspaper. Susan read the words 'midnight', 'paintings' and 'exhibits' on the consecutive layers. Then the keyhole was uncovered. Susan took the knife back to the basement and returned with a bundle of old keys. One of them just had to fit.  And one of them did, the most ordinary one, one of the not rusty ones. The one used for drawers cupboards and so on. Susan silently swore to dismantle and reassemble the lock so that one of the other, less common keys would fit.
The inside of the door was glued over with old newspapers, Mum looked at them. "Look, she said, They're all from 1942 or '43. It was those cold winters during the war." The owners must have isolated the room by glueing those papers on the inside." "I remember that. Susan said. Mom looked at her. "I mean ... of course I do not remember the winters, I was not born then, but Granny showed us photos of her walking to Sweden on the thick ice, patting the ferries that lay stuck and frozen in the middle of Øresund."
"Yes, I saw those as well. Impressing." Mum said."
"But what's in there?" Linda said.
"How did he get to the inside of the door?" Susan asked simultaneously.
"Linda go fetch my bike lanterns in the basket," Mum said.
"He came in from the other end, Susan," Mum said. "When we put up the fireplace in the big room, we covered the other end of this room up."
"So you knew it was there?"
"Yes and no," Mum said. "I never really thought about it, I thought it was just a small room, not that it reached all the way in behind this room. But obviously it does"
Linda returned with the bike lights, they were not that bright, but they all looked into the triangular space beneath the roof.
"There's something over there!" Linda said.
"Go and get it," Mum said. Linda got in with Mum holding the light aloof.
"Eww!" Linda said, "it's just an old bag filled with cobwebs and bottles."
"Oh, the milk bottles," Mum said. "That's where they went. I always wondered where i put them. When milk no longer came in bottles, I put our stash away instead of cashing it. I liked them and thought they would make nice vases. Bring them out here."
"But they're filled with cobwebs," Linda protested.
"I'll get the vacuum cleaner," Susan said and ran down the steep stairs.

There had been no more treasures hidden in the small triangular space, but now one of the milk bottles stood on the table in the guest room and Susan was careful to fill it at least once a week

How she met with Persephone the ghost will have to wait for tomorrow and the other half of the prompts.

Dobbelt jubilæum -- Double blogoversary

      Måske er jeg en smule sent på den - det lader til at ingen rigtig fejere bloggens fødselsdag, blog-jubilæum eller hvad det nu hedder på dansk. Det har jeg heller ikke gjort før, ikke fordi jeg har noget imod det, men jeg har altid først opdaget at der var gået endnu et år, et par dage, uger eller måneder efter at det var sket. I år opdagede jeg det så et par dage før og ydermere så jeg at blogpost nummer 1.000 lurede lige om hjørnet. Jeg kunne få dem til at falde på samme dag - så det gjorde jeg! 

- o 0 o -

Maybe I'm late to the party, I see almost nobody celebrate their blogoversary any more. I have never celebratet blogoversary (or is it blogiversary?). Not deliberately, out of any conviction. Just because of my bad timing. I have always found out some time after the fact that yesterday, or the day before, or even last month marked the second, third or sixth year I had been blogging. This year I accidentally discovered it some days before the fact. And then I saw blogpost number 1000 looming in the horizon. I could make these two events coincide. And so I did!

-- 🎆🎉🎶🎵 --

I dag for 7 år siden trykkede jeg udgiv på mit allerførste blogindlæg, og dette indlæg er så nummer 1.000 i rækken.
     Hvorfor skriver jeg stadig en blog? Jeg har prøvet Twitter, Instagram og Facebook, men jeg vender altid tilbage til at blogge. Tingene bliver stående på en anden måde end på Facebook og Twitter. Og så kan man skrive en længere svada med flere fine billeder..
     Det, man har skrevet om, kan sorteres, og så behøver jeg ikke at få en af Ugleungerne til at hjælpe mig med at lægge noget op i modsætning til Instagram, hvor jeg og min oldtidsmobil ikke kan lege med - den kan nemlig ikke engang gå på nettet.

- o 0 o -

Today 7 years ago I hit publish on my very first blog post and this post is my post number 1000.

Why am I still blogging? I've tried Facebook, Instagram and Twitter. But I still return to blogging. The posts remain here in comparison to Facebook, they're sortable and searchable.  And unlike Instagram, I don't need to ask one of the Owlets to borrow their smartphone to put up a photo. Me and my ancient cell phone can handle Blogger - that is to say, I can, as my old cell phone can't handle Blogs at all. Heck, it can't even access the Internet.

-- 🎆 --

      Nogle uglebilleder fra de forgangne 7 år

- o 0 o -

 Here are some owly photos from the past seven years.

Ny tehætte tilbage fra 2012
New tea cosy from 2012

Fukurou - ugle på japansk. Min fødselsdagslagkage i 2018
Fukurou means owl in Japanese. My birthday cake 2018

SpareUglen har overtaget strudsefuglens job. 2015
The savings Owl - taking over from the haughty ostrich of 2015

Haveuglen næsten druknet i ukrudt. Maj 2014
GardenOwl drowning in weeds May 2014

FODMAPuglen november 2013
The FODMAPowl from November 2013

Perleugle juleferien 2016
PerlerOwl Winter holidays 2016

Sommerhusugle
Summerhouse Owl

Kaffeugler. Der er blevet drukket utallige
kopper kaffe i Ugleboet de sidste syv år
CoffeeOwls. Innumerable mugs of coffee
have been drunk in the Owlery these last seven years.

-- 🎉 --

     Man kan nok bedst se tidens gang på Ugleungerne. Her er den mindste Ugleunge og Uglemor tilbage i 2012

- o 0 o -

The best way to watch the passing of time, is to look at the Owlets. Here's MotherOwl and the smallest Owlet in 2012

-- 🎵 --

Og så springer vi 7 år frem i tiden.

- o 0 o -

And now fast forward 7 years.

     Uglemor håber på at fortsætte med at blogge om stort og småt i Uglebo og omegn mange år endnu. 

- o 0 o -

MotherOwl hopes to continue blogging about this and that in the Owlery and surroundings.

-- 🎶 --

Theposekugle -- 2 -- Tea Bag Bauble

     Uglemor var i gang med en ny theposekugle. Det gik enormt langsomt, mest fordi alle theposerne skulle skæres til én ad gangen. Så fik Uglemor en idé! Hvad nu hvis man stablede 15 theposer - nok til en side - og så skar dem alle sammen på én gang. Det blev prøvet - og det virkede. så nu er Uglemor færdig med den blågrå theposekugle.

-- 🔹🔵🔹--

MotherOwl is making yet another  tea bag bauble.It was slow going, mostly because each of the 180 pieces of teabag hat to be individually cut to size. MotherOwl had an idea. Layer 15 teabags, enough for one whole side, and cut them all at once. A trial run showed that this was indeed possible, and from then on things got faster. The grey-blue bauble is finished!

     Lad os lige se, hvordan man laver sådan én. Så langt var Uglemor nået i tirsdags. Tre hele sider flettet.
     Der ligger tilskårne og foldede led til en ny, fjerde , side på skæreunderlaget.

-- 🔹🔷🔹--

This is how far MotherOwl had made it this Tuesday. Three faces done, and the segment for another face ready at the cutting mat.

     Nu er vi nået til fredag, ti hele sider, og leddene til de to sidste sider ligger allerede klar. Det var kun de tre sidste sider, der fik glæde af lynskæremetoden, men den vil komme i anvendelse i fremtiden. Det er helt sikkert.

-- 🔹💙🔹 --

The making of seven more faces lasted until Friday. It was only when cutting the tenth face and the segments for the two last faces that MotherOwl used the cut all in one go-method. It will see more use in times to come. 

     Alle tolv sider var færdige lige efter morgenmaden lørdag. 

-- 🔹🔵🔹 -- 

All twelve faces were put together right after breakfast Saturday.

     Så hentede Uglemor den grimme brune tråd og en nål og begyndte at sy.

-- 🔹🔷🔹 -- 

MotherOwl found the ugly brown yarn and a big needle and began sewing.

     Først syr man seks sider sammen til en flad, snefnuglignende ting. Her er den første færdig. 

-- 🔹💙🔹 --

Six faces are sewn together into a snowflake-like structure.

Og to styks flade snefnug. 

-- 🔹🔵🔹 -- 

And now there's two strange snowflakes. 

Uglemor syr og syr - og binder knuder op på tråden. Nu ligner det noget, men måske liger det mest en hjelm? Det syntes de andre i hvert fald, da Uglemor syede videre under formiddagskaffen.

-- 🔹🔷🔹 -- 

MotherOwl just keeps on sewing and untangling her yarn. The bauble takes form. Now it is in the form of a strange helmet. At last that is what the other inhabitants said during coffee-break.  

Men Uglemor lader sig ikke stoppe af sære hjelme. Hun fortsætter ufortrødent indtil kuglen er færdig og kaffen drukket.

-- 🔹💙🔹 -- 

But strange helmets and laughter did not deter MotherOwl. She persisted until the coffee was drunk and the bauble was done. 

TA-DAA!

Words for Wednesday - Thursday edition -- Unicorn Farm 17

As I wrote yesterday. Lissa's  prompts did not speak to me at all. But then, after having written the next instalment of my story, I looked at the words once again. And now, suddenly, I could see how they all fit in.

1. birthday
2. dream
3. cake
4. sugar
5. wishes
6. grant

and/ or

1. joyride
2. promise
3. wishing well
4. ghost
5. flowers
6. love


We just continue right where we laid off yesterday, and once again I took up the additional challenge of using the prompts in the order they were given.

Susan sent one of the photos and the original newspaper clipping to Heidi and the twins via magical mail. The other two she kept with the copy of the local paper in a folder under her bed. She had cast one of those practical "don't mind me"-spells on the folder, so that her parents or even worse, her sister would not notice it. 

Tomorrow was Saturday, the first in this school semester. And it was Linda's 13th birthday. Susan was sure the whole family would get together, Linda would look like a dream in her new dress. They would all eat pink cake, drink lots of cocoa with too much sugar in it, Linda loved oversweet things. All her wishes would be granted her - within limits of course. She would not get a palomino horse this year either.  

Susan had always found such occasions more of a nightmare than a joyride. But now that she knew the reason - her being a witch, at least an apprentice witch - set her apart from her family and society at large; she was able to face these ordeals with equanimity.

Next morning Susan rose early. Breakfast was a quiet affair as Linda slept late.
She had to promise her mother to behave, to pull on a dress, and generally be a normal girl during the celebrations. "Don't you go and spoil Linda's party with your sulks," her mother said.
Susan managed to take a bath and get to her room before Linda arose. She studied herself in the mirror. If she has a wishing well she would throw in two coins and have dark, curly hair instead of the medium brownish haystack she had now. Linda had wonderful golden hair and let no chance pass to mock Susan's common-coloured hair. And she would like to be a bit taller and slimmer. Her body was rather square and boyish, she used to be proud of her strength, well she still was, but she so wanted to look just a little bit like those other girls. And then again, she thought, her plain looks let her blend in. People did not notice her, and she could go on minding her own business without being disturbed.

Susan opened her cupboard to find her pretty dress. As she did so, she saw the ghost of a former inhabitant glide past in the mirror.
"Take it easy, Persephone (that was the name of the ghost). I'll bring you some flowers later today. And do come down and watch the party later, you'll love to see all those pretty ladies and stiff gentlemen."
"And you'd love to see their reaction to me?" Persephone chided.
"Oh, no, Percy. Please don't. Please stay invisible. Mum's gonna kill me if anything goes wrong. Somehow I'm always to blame when something goes wrong."
"I promise, the ghost said. Only do not forget the flowers!"
"I won't!" Susan said, leaving her room.