Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
The time goes by so fast. I wonder in Heaven if eternity is just a feeling of one long day spent with those you love doing all the things that you like? This week was like that. I can't tell you how I spent one day in particular...nothing too special other than my Kids, and grandKids were in my HOUSe and that was the most special of all, eating and swimming and making silly art together. Just spending time together. I had grand plans...Disney, Bok tower, beach at Sunset...nONE of them were actualized. We ate like Hogs on a Holiday, Laughed and cried, and made things to give away... and made memories. i love my Children so much. I am proud of them for who they are and Love how they have all turned out. They are awesome People.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
My Daughter is home
Saturday, June 6, 2009
The Wind
The wind itself is a force to be reckoned with. We have stopped talking about it having a Spirit, or thinking about it as an entity, or considering it much at all. We may think of it as it gently lifts our skirts on a summer day, as a caress perhaps, or as it lifts the Stars and Stripes to regally flap in the air over a sacred place. If we were sailors we would think of the wind differently. Energy, and power, transporting us. And if we were Birds. Like Windslow, we would have respect for Its currents and call it Friend. If we lived in the Midwest, and had experienced a tornado, or in the South, a Hurricane, we would not think so kindly of the Wind and may even feel afraid when it begins to blow.
That night in the Baggaraggs, a wind began to blow, indeed. Some say the saw the Maple lift its Hoary arm to part the Forest curtain, and allow it to enter. Some saw nothing, because they peacefully slept.
Whatever the reason, a Wind like none other began its work in The forest of the Baggaraggs...and the first indicator that something bad might be afoot began with the Goblin Lantern of Prunella Fig-Pink. It cast a rather beautiful Pink glow around the entrance and home of Prunella, illuminating the grounds and casting a serene shadow into the Forest itself.
Goblin Lights are interesting objects and are valuable to have. They DO NOT GO OUT. They do not require electricity, batteries or solar panels. I don't know how they work, and I don't think you do either, so the explanation for what is to happen next is...inexplicable. The forest is a dark place and as I have said before, it likes it that way. And so it was into total darkness it returned when the Goblin Lantern of Prunella Fig-Pink inexplicable blinked and went out.
At that moment, The one good eye of Peg the Pie-rat popped open, and tried to adjust to the darkness, and could not.
At that moment, there was a whirling sound that swept past the Home of Prunella Fig-Pink and rattled a shutter.
"Must be a mighty storm comin," thought Peg. She wondered about the darkness, and tried to sink back into slumber, and could not.
She squirmed a bit in the covers, stretching for a soft spot, getting comfortable, again.
The Wind spoke at the windows, opening them a inch or so with its mighty strenght, and filled a white curtain full of itself, like a ghost with a bulging belly. It whipped full, and then cracked! leaving the curtain finely shredded, hanging in thin strips, looking like long, unraveled bandages. The Pie-rats started. Some yelled out in Fear. But none could see.
Around the room it roared, tossing the cake to the floor, tangling the faded streamers and knocking over the chairs. The cabinet doors in the kitchen opened and slammed shut as the kitchen window opened, and blew the pots and pans to the floor.
The front door creaked and rattled as if a mighty hand was trying at the lock and then blew open in a rush of broken sticks and leaves and biting, jagged snowflakes. Big Punzee rushed forward to brace it up and shut it once again.
"What's happening?" big Punzee yelled above the malestrom to Peg-leg.
"Some kind of a storm or somethin'," replied Peg.
Above them,were sounds of something falling onto the roof, and together, as if in one motion, the rats hunched their shoulders to ward off the unseen falling objects from above. The floorboards moaned out in pain, and the wind spoke in a high pitched voice that sounded for all this world Like "GOOOOOOO!."
Fatigue and disbelief clouded the mind of Peg-Leg the Pie-rat. Rats, nearly blind in the blowing darkness, stumbled into each other and cried out in fear.
That night in the Baggaraggs, a wind began to blow, indeed. Some say the saw the Maple lift its Hoary arm to part the Forest curtain, and allow it to enter. Some saw nothing, because they peacefully slept.
Whatever the reason, a Wind like none other began its work in The forest of the Baggaraggs...and the first indicator that something bad might be afoot began with the Goblin Lantern of Prunella Fig-Pink. It cast a rather beautiful Pink glow around the entrance and home of Prunella, illuminating the grounds and casting a serene shadow into the Forest itself.
Goblin Lights are interesting objects and are valuable to have. They DO NOT GO OUT. They do not require electricity, batteries or solar panels. I don't know how they work, and I don't think you do either, so the explanation for what is to happen next is...inexplicable. The forest is a dark place and as I have said before, it likes it that way. And so it was into total darkness it returned when the Goblin Lantern of Prunella Fig-Pink inexplicable blinked and went out.
At that moment, The one good eye of Peg the Pie-rat popped open, and tried to adjust to the darkness, and could not.
At that moment, there was a whirling sound that swept past the Home of Prunella Fig-Pink and rattled a shutter.
"Must be a mighty storm comin," thought Peg. She wondered about the darkness, and tried to sink back into slumber, and could not.
She squirmed a bit in the covers, stretching for a soft spot, getting comfortable, again.
The Wind spoke at the windows, opening them a inch or so with its mighty strenght, and filled a white curtain full of itself, like a ghost with a bulging belly. It whipped full, and then cracked! leaving the curtain finely shredded, hanging in thin strips, looking like long, unraveled bandages. The Pie-rats started. Some yelled out in Fear. But none could see.
Around the room it roared, tossing the cake to the floor, tangling the faded streamers and knocking over the chairs. The cabinet doors in the kitchen opened and slammed shut as the kitchen window opened, and blew the pots and pans to the floor.
The front door creaked and rattled as if a mighty hand was trying at the lock and then blew open in a rush of broken sticks and leaves and biting, jagged snowflakes. Big Punzee rushed forward to brace it up and shut it once again.
"What's happening?" big Punzee yelled above the malestrom to Peg-leg.
"Some kind of a storm or somethin'," replied Peg.
Above them,were sounds of something falling onto the roof, and together, as if in one motion, the rats hunched their shoulders to ward off the unseen falling objects from above. The floorboards moaned out in pain, and the wind spoke in a high pitched voice that sounded for all this world Like "GOOOOOOO!."
Fatigue and disbelief clouded the mind of Peg-Leg the Pie-rat. Rats, nearly blind in the blowing darkness, stumbled into each other and cried out in fear.
Confession
The Seasons have out paced the story of the Baggaraggs. They are stuck at the beginning of Winter and Prunella has just shown up at Grace's Home and Grace has climbed out of Bed....
Grace looked with weary eyes at the form beFore her and remembered the little girl she had watched climb in the apple trees, and wave without fear from the tops of the Poplars in summer. Grace was a young woman then, and Prunella had been a child. This person before her was not the Prunella that she remembered. It took only seconds for these thoughts to make their appearance in Grace's thoughts and evaporate, leaving her to wonder what to say. "Hello, Prunella," she began. "What Party...what are you talking about, and why are you dressed like that?" She finished this with a furrow of her brows, questioning.
Prunella Fig-Pink eyed Grace with misery. "I am cold Grace, and the Pie-rats have taken my Home. I have come for help. The party was my Birthday party...you didn't come and I am wearing my Birthday dress." She sniffed. Prunella looked down at herself, spreading the fabric of her skirt to display the fine gay print to Grace. It was threadbare, stained and thin. Prunella looked confused.
"When was your Party, Dear?" urged Grace gently.
"It was..." Prunella paused. She thought a long and confused thought. She began again, "It was, my goodness...16 years ago." The tears came to Prunella then. She crumbled and wept. "I waited and no one came..." this was all she could manage between her sobs.
Grace Tenderstitch watched this tearful confession. She was tired and her neck and shoulder had begun to stiffen with the night's arm slinging, shovel wielding activities. She longed for sleep. There was a moments indecision, that was so common for Grace before she crossed the room and put her arm around Prunella. "Come on...into the tub, nice hot bath and some nice soft jammies. We will think of what you want to do in the morning."
In the meantime, the Pie-rats had not wasted any time getting settled into Prunella's home.
In the meantime, Maybell snuggled into the soft downy feathers, under the wing of Windslow the Osprey. They were perched high above the forest in a twiggy nest.
In the meantime, Ernie the Weasel and Tisdale the snail talked long into the night about how to take back the Thread-Pusher, and what to do about the Pie-Rats.
And the forest slept under its icy blanket, covered in a frosting of snow. The wind blew softly and lifted the icy fingers of the Maple tree, as if to beckon an unseen spirit into the forest depths.
Grace looked with weary eyes at the form beFore her and remembered the little girl she had watched climb in the apple trees, and wave without fear from the tops of the Poplars in summer. Grace was a young woman then, and Prunella had been a child. This person before her was not the Prunella that she remembered. It took only seconds for these thoughts to make their appearance in Grace's thoughts and evaporate, leaving her to wonder what to say. "Hello, Prunella," she began. "What Party...what are you talking about, and why are you dressed like that?" She finished this with a furrow of her brows, questioning.
Prunella Fig-Pink eyed Grace with misery. "I am cold Grace, and the Pie-rats have taken my Home. I have come for help. The party was my Birthday party...you didn't come and I am wearing my Birthday dress." She sniffed. Prunella looked down at herself, spreading the fabric of her skirt to display the fine gay print to Grace. It was threadbare, stained and thin. Prunella looked confused.
"When was your Party, Dear?" urged Grace gently.
"It was..." Prunella paused. She thought a long and confused thought. She began again, "It was, my goodness...16 years ago." The tears came to Prunella then. She crumbled and wept. "I waited and no one came..." this was all she could manage between her sobs.
Grace Tenderstitch watched this tearful confession. She was tired and her neck and shoulder had begun to stiffen with the night's arm slinging, shovel wielding activities. She longed for sleep. There was a moments indecision, that was so common for Grace before she crossed the room and put her arm around Prunella. "Come on...into the tub, nice hot bath and some nice soft jammies. We will think of what you want to do in the morning."
In the meantime, the Pie-rats had not wasted any time getting settled into Prunella's home.
In the meantime, Maybell snuggled into the soft downy feathers, under the wing of Windslow the Osprey. They were perched high above the forest in a twiggy nest.
In the meantime, Ernie the Weasel and Tisdale the snail talked long into the night about how to take back the Thread-Pusher, and what to do about the Pie-Rats.
And the forest slept under its icy blanket, covered in a frosting of snow. The wind blew softly and lifted the icy fingers of the Maple tree, as if to beckon an unseen spirit into the forest depths.
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