Thursday, March 5, 2009
The Sunshine and the SHADOW
I have no story in me today. I hate having to surrender my time to go to the doctors, and my creativity in worry that there might be something wrong with my physical body that keeps me from doing what I love. I do not willingly surrender my time to appointments and Manatory meetings. I also do not like negativity, and this is not like me, but I feel tired and worried. Tomorrow will be better.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Forest at Night
The night pressed in. If you have ever been in the Forest at night you are aware that the dark is very black and that the stars, when you see them are wondrously bright. If you have walked in the woods at night, you may have been touched by dark hands that emerge under the cover of Night, or momentarily trapped by a cobweb, as your recoil to brush it away. You cannot go there without a source of Light. You simply cannot pass safely. The Forest has a feeling. It claims the darkness for its own, as if to carry on a business that intruders may not see. Maybe it just wants a little privacy.
If the shadows were living things they would not have liked the intrusion of The Pie-rats into their Nightly rituals. They would have rustled the leaves into whirlwinds, and blown them high into the tops of the trees. They would have stolen around the branches with cold breath, frosting the tips where the Pie-rats hung, clinging, cold and waiting for a dawn attack. And they would have knitted webs that no Spider ever spun, to blanket the unsuspecting with a creepy coil of mossy threads.
Big Punzee waited in the top of a maple with the one legged leader of the Pie-rats secured to her back. She did not like the woods, the night, or the cold Breath of the Shadowy wind.
There was a whisper, then a cry from a branch below them, as an Owl plucked a Pie-rat from its hold on the limb. It was off, without a sound, the Pie-rat tightly clutched in Talons that seemed too big, too sharp, and deadly.
"Oie, Oie...did you see that?" This from Big Punzee, as she started to shinny backward on the branch. "I am gettin' us out of here before we get snatched," said Big Punzee. Peg-leg, her voice muffled, cried to the others around her, "Get down from the trees, Their are OWLS about!"
Some heard, some did not and some suffered the same fate as the first, Quietly plucked from a branch with only the whisper of a wing, softly, softly bringing the Talons of death.
"We cannot wait until the dawn to attack," said Peg-leg. "We will all be eaten by those nasty Owls. We have to change our plans and attack, or else hide until the dawn."
As the Pie-rats regrouped on the forest floor, there were continued cries overhead from Pie-rats who had not escaped.
"It is dreadful dark in this woods," said Big Punzee.
"There is a wicked feeling here,"acknowledged another rat named Lucky Lucy.
"Quiet that talk," blasted Peg-leg. "Stow IT!" Her nerves were on edge too.
They followed Big Punzee, almost blindly to the forest edge, where the Lights from the windows of the Baggaraggs, were a blur in the cold night.
"There they is , snug as bugs," whispered Lucky Lucy, gesturing towards the Baggaraggs.
"I say we storm them," said another rat named Angus.
"Hush," said Big Punzee, "Give the Peg a Chance to think."
And so they huddled in the shadows, some burrowed in the leaves, as the first snow flakes started to drift down.
"We will have to attack them, we cannot wait until the Morning, we will all be froze to death," ruminated Peg, aloud to Punzee.
"Oie, said Punzee, I think you is right."
"Gather them," said Peg, "And tell them to bring the biggest Leaf they can find, she instructed.
The troop of Pie-rats, regrouped with brown leaves curled upon their backs like cloaks, now camouflaged. They would slip unseen to the very Gate of the Baggaraggs.
If the shadows were living things they would not have liked the intrusion of The Pie-rats into their Nightly rituals. They would have rustled the leaves into whirlwinds, and blown them high into the tops of the trees. They would have stolen around the branches with cold breath, frosting the tips where the Pie-rats hung, clinging, cold and waiting for a dawn attack. And they would have knitted webs that no Spider ever spun, to blanket the unsuspecting with a creepy coil of mossy threads.
Big Punzee waited in the top of a maple with the one legged leader of the Pie-rats secured to her back. She did not like the woods, the night, or the cold Breath of the Shadowy wind.
There was a whisper, then a cry from a branch below them, as an Owl plucked a Pie-rat from its hold on the limb. It was off, without a sound, the Pie-rat tightly clutched in Talons that seemed too big, too sharp, and deadly.
"Oie, Oie...did you see that?" This from Big Punzee, as she started to shinny backward on the branch. "I am gettin' us out of here before we get snatched," said Big Punzee. Peg-leg, her voice muffled, cried to the others around her, "Get down from the trees, Their are OWLS about!"
Some heard, some did not and some suffered the same fate as the first, Quietly plucked from a branch with only the whisper of a wing, softly, softly bringing the Talons of death.
"We cannot wait until the dawn to attack," said Peg-leg. "We will all be eaten by those nasty Owls. We have to change our plans and attack, or else hide until the dawn."
As the Pie-rats regrouped on the forest floor, there were continued cries overhead from Pie-rats who had not escaped.
"It is dreadful dark in this woods," said Big Punzee.
"There is a wicked feeling here,"acknowledged another rat named Lucky Lucy.
"Quiet that talk," blasted Peg-leg. "Stow IT!" Her nerves were on edge too.
They followed Big Punzee, almost blindly to the forest edge, where the Lights from the windows of the Baggaraggs, were a blur in the cold night.
"There they is , snug as bugs," whispered Lucky Lucy, gesturing towards the Baggaraggs.
"I say we storm them," said another rat named Angus.
"Hush," said Big Punzee, "Give the Peg a Chance to think."
And so they huddled in the shadows, some burrowed in the leaves, as the first snow flakes started to drift down.
"We will have to attack them, we cannot wait until the Morning, we will all be froze to death," ruminated Peg, aloud to Punzee.
"Oie, said Punzee, I think you is right."
"Gather them," said Peg, "And tell them to bring the biggest Leaf they can find, she instructed.
The troop of Pie-rats, regrouped with brown leaves curled upon their backs like cloaks, now camouflaged. They would slip unseen to the very Gate of the Baggaraggs.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
Carrot Creation
I made this carrot on a piece of Muslin that is sewed and then coffee dyed. Then I collaged the fabric on to it, painted and modge Podged and then when dried I sewed in accents in Black.
The Countess Sylvanski's Teapot.
The Countess Sylvanski has left me her Teapot...not really but I am going to manufacture a lovely Story about it. Its not quite finished yet...Buttons on the top yet, I think.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Battle Begins.
Grace hurried through the woods to her home. She was hyper alert to noises around her. Worry and anger fed her path. She emerged from the cedars with Murray ahead her, sniffing the ground. There was no welcoming curl of smoke from the chimney, and the house was a dark shadow in the waning light. It was cold. She pressed on down to the garden, when she felt something stinging in her neck, then her back, then she fell forward, tripping in a hole. She stumbled, catching herself with outstretched hands before her face could hit the ground. There were multiple tiny arrows sticking from her neck and the back of her jacket was dotted with them. "Murray," she cried.
Murray whirled at the sound of her falling. He was a black blur that raced around her perimeter, dodging tiny darts, and growling when they found a mark. "Get up Grace, get up," he yelled.
Somewhere near the Garden Gate there was a cry of "Attack!" There was a sound of a tiny horn, an army of animals with ouchers scrambled forward to the aid of their beloved Mistress.
Grace gained her feet, as they ran toward her yelling wildly. She pitched toward them with Murray at her heels. He was Biting the air, snapping furiously and barking "Come down and fight, come down here you filthy animals," to the unseen foes that had attacked from the trees.
There was a shower of tiny arrows that responded to his invitation, all falling short of the mark.
They scrambled through the Garden Gate, and Grace momentarily assessed the scene around her. There were animals of every kind in her Garden. Some had Rusty Sewing Needles, with the bottom of clay pots as shields. Some of the ferrets and badgers had her steak knife set diveyed up between them, but what made her smile was the sight of her beloved cat Swain with a teacup for a shield and a kabob skewer as a lance.
Tisdale spoke first. "We Have decided to defend the Baggaraggs, Mrs. Tenderstitch. We are not going to let them pass without a fight." Grace Tendertitch looked down at the tiny snail who held his shell curled in his tail. "I told you to get the others and yourself to safety Tisdale. Lets get into the house and see what needs to be done." Once inside, Grace plucked the tiny arrows from her jacket. It was more difficult and painful to remove the few that had impaled her neck. There was not much bleeding, but Grace was at first alarmed by the prospect that the tips of the arrows had been dipped in some kind of venom. This did not prove to be the case.
Murray whirled at the sound of her falling. He was a black blur that raced around her perimeter, dodging tiny darts, and growling when they found a mark. "Get up Grace, get up," he yelled.
Somewhere near the Garden Gate there was a cry of "Attack!" There was a sound of a tiny horn, an army of animals with ouchers scrambled forward to the aid of their beloved Mistress.
Grace gained her feet, as they ran toward her yelling wildly. She pitched toward them with Murray at her heels. He was Biting the air, snapping furiously and barking "Come down and fight, come down here you filthy animals," to the unseen foes that had attacked from the trees.
There was a shower of tiny arrows that responded to his invitation, all falling short of the mark.
They scrambled through the Garden Gate, and Grace momentarily assessed the scene around her. There were animals of every kind in her Garden. Some had Rusty Sewing Needles, with the bottom of clay pots as shields. Some of the ferrets and badgers had her steak knife set diveyed up between them, but what made her smile was the sight of her beloved cat Swain with a teacup for a shield and a kabob skewer as a lance.
Tisdale spoke first. "We Have decided to defend the Baggaraggs, Mrs. Tenderstitch. We are not going to let them pass without a fight." Grace Tendertitch looked down at the tiny snail who held his shell curled in his tail. "I told you to get the others and yourself to safety Tisdale. Lets get into the house and see what needs to be done." Once inside, Grace plucked the tiny arrows from her jacket. It was more difficult and painful to remove the few that had impaled her neck. There was not much bleeding, but Grace was at first alarmed by the prospect that the tips of the arrows had been dipped in some kind of venom. This did not prove to be the case.
As Murray was treated he said, "They are bold these Pie-rats. Attacking you like that. I thought they had felled you when you went down. But then I saw that you fell into a hole that someone had dug...plus there is pine sap on the bottom of your shoe," he finished sniffing the bottom of her foot. Grace Tenderstitch looked down,"My ankle is going to swell, I'm afraid.Its going to be a long Night."
She had no idea had right she would be.
Monday, February 16, 2009
54 crafts, the number of the rafts (x2)
Grace Tenderstitch stood in the late afternoon at the edge of the steep slope to the Loch. She looked down at the water and the wind blew cold and at times brought tears to her eyes, stinging. There was a carpet of brown curled debris around her, dissolving into the forest floor. She could see below where there were a number of tiny rafts, mostly made from tree bark, floating in the oily olive water, harnessed to the rocks. Without thinking she began to count their numbers, and realized when she got to 54 that there was an equal amount left to be counted. Murray stood at her side, his shoulder resting lightly against her thigh, her hand warmed in the fur on his back. No one spoke.
There was a distant cry of a bird over their heads. It sounded faraway, and was barely acknowledged by the threesome that stood at the edge of this incline, so much was their preoccupation with the scene, They patiently waited for Mrs. Tenderstitch to speak and act. Another cry, louder and closer, had Maybell looking upward, searching the sky for her impossible love, Windslow the Osprey. He was circling closer, and within moments, grasp a tree branch above them with powerful talons. AS His head turned sideways, he looked at them with an eye that seemed made of glass, set below a jet black eyestripe. His presence was majestic, like being being visited by a member of royalty.
"Windslow," Maybell cried.
"My greetings, Maybell," he replied. "Greetings to you Grace Tenderstitch. And to you." he said to Murray.
He continued as the greetings were exchanged. "There is need for haste, Grace Tenderstitch. Above your head there is amassed a small army of trapeezing Pie-rats intent on stealing something from your Home. I do not like the look of them. They are bold, and fierce, and laugh in the Face of Danger."
There was no time for Grace to wonder at Windslow's appearance, his neck feathers wrapped with a knitted lilac muffler that Maybell had gifted him. There was no time to wonder at the strangeness of the day, no time to consider the ingenuity of a group of rats. They had strung a web of ropes to travel upon, as if the forest trees were the masts of many ships.
Indecision is not the friend of any Leader. It would not do to straddle a fence in this situation. Grace struggled with this as a first foe in the conflict, and tried to Decide what to do. It was her basic nature to consider all sides and to try to have a peaceful resolution to conflict.
As if to punctuate the the finality of her decision, the sun sank below the western end of the Loch. "Gather what friends of Prey you have Windslow. If there are eagles, let them fly to the Baggaraggs, if there are falcons, or other rat eating birds of Prey, let them come. I will wake the Owls from their slumber, they will help us."
"I will wake them," spoke Winslow. "I will gather the Birds of Prey, and spread the word of warning and war amongst our kind."
"I will go with you," Maybell offered, and began to scamble down from her perch on the shoulder of Grace Tenderstitch. Before she had reached the ground, Windslow had silently swoped forward and waited for her to chamber up his massive wing. She secured herself to the Lilac Muffler and they were gone, lifted high up into the currents, high above the trees.
As the shadows grew amongst the trees, Grace and Murray hurried back into the woods, looking up to try to catch a glimpse of the network of ropes that were woven above their heads. They did not know that the Pie-rats had reached the border of the Baggaraggs, and were spying out its peoples from the tops of the naked maples.
Peg-Leg the Pie-rat watched as the residents of the Baggaraggs made ready for war, and she was not laughing at the Danger she perceived.
There was a distant cry of a bird over their heads. It sounded faraway, and was barely acknowledged by the threesome that stood at the edge of this incline, so much was their preoccupation with the scene, They patiently waited for Mrs. Tenderstitch to speak and act. Another cry, louder and closer, had Maybell looking upward, searching the sky for her impossible love, Windslow the Osprey. He was circling closer, and within moments, grasp a tree branch above them with powerful talons. AS His head turned sideways, he looked at them with an eye that seemed made of glass, set below a jet black eyestripe. His presence was majestic, like being being visited by a member of royalty.
"Windslow," Maybell cried.
"My greetings, Maybell," he replied. "Greetings to you Grace Tenderstitch. And to you." he said to Murray.
He continued as the greetings were exchanged. "There is need for haste, Grace Tenderstitch. Above your head there is amassed a small army of trapeezing Pie-rats intent on stealing something from your Home. I do not like the look of them. They are bold, and fierce, and laugh in the Face of Danger."
There was no time for Grace to wonder at Windslow's appearance, his neck feathers wrapped with a knitted lilac muffler that Maybell had gifted him. There was no time to wonder at the strangeness of the day, no time to consider the ingenuity of a group of rats. They had strung a web of ropes to travel upon, as if the forest trees were the masts of many ships.
Indecision is not the friend of any Leader. It would not do to straddle a fence in this situation. Grace struggled with this as a first foe in the conflict, and tried to Decide what to do. It was her basic nature to consider all sides and to try to have a peaceful resolution to conflict.
As if to punctuate the the finality of her decision, the sun sank below the western end of the Loch. "Gather what friends of Prey you have Windslow. If there are eagles, let them fly to the Baggaraggs, if there are falcons, or other rat eating birds of Prey, let them come. I will wake the Owls from their slumber, they will help us."
"I will wake them," spoke Winslow. "I will gather the Birds of Prey, and spread the word of warning and war amongst our kind."
"I will go with you," Maybell offered, and began to scamble down from her perch on the shoulder of Grace Tenderstitch. Before she had reached the ground, Windslow had silently swoped forward and waited for her to chamber up his massive wing. She secured herself to the Lilac Muffler and they were gone, lifted high up into the currents, high above the trees.
As the shadows grew amongst the trees, Grace and Murray hurried back into the woods, looking up to try to catch a glimpse of the network of ropes that were woven above their heads. They did not know that the Pie-rats had reached the border of the Baggaraggs, and were spying out its peoples from the tops of the naked maples.
Peg-Leg the Pie-rat watched as the residents of the Baggaraggs made ready for war, and she was not laughing at the Danger she perceived.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Back to the Story.
Sometimes when there is a great fear of something , the idea of it gets submerged in to a deep pool of unconscious forgetting. Somehow, because it was just too frightening to contemplate, the thought gets folded away at the bottom of a drawer, and pushed deeply to the side. It is somewhat like an unwelcome gift that we cannot bring ourselves to discard but do not want to acknowledge either. This was what had happened to Tisdale when he was talking to the citizens of the Baggaraggs. He had told them "I don't know what is coming," when in fact Grace Tenderstitch had told him what he could expect. He had not told them a lie, but in Truth his fear of the Pie-rats had genuinely made him forget. Have you ever had that happen to you, that you have totally submerged a fear, by just plain forgetting about its Existence? Deep within the unconscious pool of forgetting, there were bubbles of fear that were descending, rocketing their way to the surface of Tisdale's Brain.Those unwelcome bubbles were bursting with the knowledge that he had with held the identity of their enemy from the Baggaraggs inhabitants.
But, The citizens of the Baggaraggs did not know that the Pie-rats were in route to their home,and they readied their defense of the Place. Animals know instinctively how to fight. They are not negotiators. Ernie was busy handing out rusty and ill used Ouchers. Tisdale had glued carpet hooks to his shell, and was helping others with the same armor. He had the moles tunneling and creating pits that would be filled with pine sap. There were sentinels on the roof, the Ravens with their iridescent feathers, scanned the air and the forest edge for signs of trouble.
I do not know what they would have thought if they realized that their common enemy would be a band of Pie-rats. I am not sure it would have mattered, maybe only to have made the task more grim, and somehow more serious. Pie-rats were after all, a blood thirsty group, known to leave whole towns in ruins and inflict the Plague. (The Plague is a VERY old Story.)
The children were placed in the corners of the House, with their Mothers standing guard. Those children would be protected with the very lives of their Mothers, they would fight to the death to protect their little ones.
Those that were able, carried brambles to the edge of the Garden fence. The now leggy Parasoles of the Nasturium leaves hid the thorny spines of briars. The afternoon was soon becoming evening and Tisdale wished he could stretch out each minute to twice its length in Time. He struggled with the Knowledge that he had not told them all that he could have. And he wondered what to do.
But, The citizens of the Baggaraggs did not know that the Pie-rats were in route to their home,and they readied their defense of the Place. Animals know instinctively how to fight. They are not negotiators. Ernie was busy handing out rusty and ill used Ouchers. Tisdale had glued carpet hooks to his shell, and was helping others with the same armor. He had the moles tunneling and creating pits that would be filled with pine sap. There were sentinels on the roof, the Ravens with their iridescent feathers, scanned the air and the forest edge for signs of trouble.
I do not know what they would have thought if they realized that their common enemy would be a band of Pie-rats. I am not sure it would have mattered, maybe only to have made the task more grim, and somehow more serious. Pie-rats were after all, a blood thirsty group, known to leave whole towns in ruins and inflict the Plague. (The Plague is a VERY old Story.)
The children were placed in the corners of the House, with their Mothers standing guard. Those children would be protected with the very lives of their Mothers, they would fight to the death to protect their little ones.
Those that were able, carried brambles to the edge of the Garden fence. The now leggy Parasoles of the Nasturium leaves hid the thorny spines of briars. The afternoon was soon becoming evening and Tisdale wished he could stretch out each minute to twice its length in Time. He struggled with the Knowledge that he had not told them all that he could have. And he wondered what to do.
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