BS: Sunshine Thoughts

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 29 Apr 13 - 06:12 AM

Today is a day off and I shall spend it helping friends. Tom is physically no longer capable of doing these projects, and Linn is busy taking care of Tom, so I go down every so often and help out where I can. This project is moving a woodpile from its current location to a different one, out of the way of the fellow who will be fixing the driveway next week. A lot of the wood isn't worth saving, so it has to be gone through, moved, and restacked in the new spot. It is a good way to spend a day - helping friends, enjoying their company, and there is something very satisfying about stacking wood. There's a bit of an art to it, making it stable enough so it won't fall over by cribbing the ends and stacking it so it all fits together. I am very good at stacking wood, the two rows I've made so far are solid. One can reach out and shake the pile and it barely moves. And knowing I've done this for friends makes it even more satisfying.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 29 Apr 13 - 09:42 AM

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 29 Apr 13 - 10:18 AM

Duh senior moment :)

Sounds like a job well done lass and all the better for being done among friends.

When I first came to Orkney it was not unusual to see peat stacks for we have few trees on the island. Most households had two and the industrious ones three stacks. There was the stack they were using for the hearth this year, last years cutting which would be dry by the time this years was done and this years cutting.

Several families with banks close by would all work together to gather the peats. First the grassy turf was stripped of laid carefully by to put back in place when we were done. Then the Tusker a strangely shaped spade forged by generations of blacksmiths was used to cut the labs of peat which were laid on the banks to dry. By several families working together they could do on average enough for one stack a day and would work together till each family had enough to see them through.

A while later when the peats had dried a little and could be moved folk again gathered to "bring them in". They would load them on carts which would take them down to the farm yard where they would be stacked allowing them to dry till they became rock hard providing a slow burning fuel for cooking and heating the croft.

Many of the younger generation have never smelled the slightly acidic tang of burning peats. However to those of a certain generation the smell wherever they are in the world will instantly transport them home. Never was there a more welcoming and heartening smell on damp winters evening.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: katlaughing
Date: 29 Apr 13 - 11:32 PM

I might know be quite ready to post, but am enjoying this thread, immsensely. It reminds me of some of Peter T's Thread for the day threads. Thanks so much for sharing.


luvyakat

P.S. Here's a stinky proposition Morgan call me with tonight:

   Mama, would you like to write a book with me? Do you want to hear the first few chapters?

   Why sure I would! I love that you like to create with worlds and your imagination.(WE mumbled on a bit of NANOWRIMO and others and agreed to talk later. The heo involve Mr Pill, who farts pickles ahwn he's out to save someone. I told him I'd edit, Fourth graders have such gritty humour!)


.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 29 Apr 13 - 11:40 PM

When I was in Ireland 25 years ago (where has the time gone?!), I saw peat being cut, and several of the hostels I stayed in had peat fires burning. Thanks for reminding me of a happy memory :)

Here in Maine, we have a saying that wood warms you twice - once when you cut it (or stack it), and the second time when you burn it. The house my mum grew up in was poorly built and always cold. She always vowed that someday she would live in a house and keep it as warm as she wished. When we moved to the coast of Maine when I was 15, the house we rented only had electric baseboard heaters when we first moved in. Maine has long, cold winters, and my parents were worried about being able to afford the electric bill. Our landlords liked us as tenants so much, that they installed a wood-burning furnace in the cellar for us. Mum finally got her wish. She would order four cords of wood (a cord is a stack of wood four feet wide, four feet tall, and 8 feet long, for those who don't know) in the fall, and when it was delivered, all social engagements that my sister and I might have were cancelled and we would all spend the weekend throwing the wood into the cellar and stacking it. My sister and I hated it, but we liked being warm, too, as mum would remind us when we'd start to complain. Not only that, but it taught me a useful skill.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 02 May 13 - 12:39 PM

All the talk in our small town just now is about the dearth of activity on the street. The Street is actually what was the main road of the original town. Everything lay either abune(above) or ablow (below) the street, a jumble of piers and narrow lanes clinging together for such comfort as could be garnered from the harsh granite hillside tumbling down to the bay.

Women talked at lane ends about distant shared cousins who had written letters home from the far reaches of the globe. There was mingled pride and sadness that young Doddie (George) had got work with the Hudson Bay Company. Sighs of understanding and commiseration at another young lad forced to leave the island to make a living, so many of them never came home.

Men gathered at the pierhead moaning at the price of kye (cattle) at the mart which lay at the far end of town,when you are walking your beasts to mart or slaughter house you want them in your own parish true food miles. On wild weather days they would gather to decide if they should leave the safety of the harbour and risk the rough seas out the back of Hoy with their long lines.

Slowly (for all things are slow in a land ruled by the ebb and flow of the tide) the conversation would meander from topic to topic, for reading and making babies were activities for the long winters nights.

It was a self sufficient little town back then with the ships gliding past the Kirk Rocks with their great creamy sails bringing in the luxury goods the island could not provide. The cobbler, the baker and all the services our town needed provided in tiny one roomed shops and more ale house per yard of street than anywhere else on the island. Children darting along the road weaving between the adults a precious coin grasped in a hot little hand to buy a loaf or jug of ale for father coming home prayed there would be enough left to buy a wee poke (Small paper cone) of toffee as a rare treat.

Much of life was lived on the street news passed tumbling from lip to lip along its length. The anxious waiting women when a local boat was overdue whispering together afraid to say the frightened words loudly in case they would come true. Sharing tears of joy when the men were spied slipping into the Cairston Roads the small boats fighting their way round the holms towards the safety of harbour. The cannon announced a ships arrival from south with apples from Kent and oranges from Spain, bolts of cloth for plain
folk and fine silk for the Laird

Dressed in their Sunday best families walked along the street laughing to a wedding. Sombre faced silent black clothed they walked in procession behind the coffin out to Warbeth where the late of the town laid asleep to the susserus shushing of waves on the shore, slumbering till the great call to judgement.

Then came the time when the old ways were no longer good enough. The days of the oil and prosperity when the council in their dubious wisdom built scheme after scheme of new houses on the outskirts of town. The people bought cars and went to work and shop in Kirkwall. The people outgrew our little town and gradually most of the shops closed to be replace with gift shops for the cruise ships.

Many factors contribute to the death of a small community but in a seafaring town bedded down on its granite hillside the temporary loss of our ferry has pierced the heart of the towns confidence in the future flowing away like our lifeblood into the harbour.

The feeling of impending doom in the conversations is hard to get past. Writing this however I think of all the changes good and bad that have happened in our small town over the centuries and realise that through it all the town has remained as strong and solid as its granite foundation.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 02 May 13 - 04:39 PM

"...susserus shushing of waves ..." I love susseration.

Once, on a camping trip, we stood there in the darkness that had gathered around us while leaving the sky still lit enough to show the silhouettes of flock of ducks coming in to land on the lake for the night. The only sound overhead, except for the very occasional solitary honk was the suss suss suss of their wings.

Question: Is peat merely below-ground vegetation that has decayed? Would the permafrost of the north be burnable if it were cut into cakes and dried?

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 02 May 13 - 06:59 PM

Ebbie, this is a pretty good definition of peat.

Megan, you really should be writing books and sharing the beauty of your writing with the world.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 03 May 13 - 05:16 AM

Ebbie your wonderful description of the ducks made me think of sound.

Orkney sounds

We think of our island home as a quiet place especially when you get out of the town. Today however a chance remark set my mind a wandering through the sometimes forgotten paths of memory appreciating once more the great beauty of my island as seen through the eyes of a blind man.

The old dry-stone walled cottage we called home for the first nineteen years of married life sat solid and low in the landscape as though afraid to stick its head to far above the garden walls for fear the wind would try and pluck it from its place.

We lay side by side in the small bedroom not yet asleep, for sleep was not easily won on nights of thick fog. The booming bass notes of the lighthouse carrying across the Flow till it vibrated in your chest. The pauses punctuated by the shrill building warble of the Whaup (that being the Orkney name for the Curlew) it always felt as though it was having to practice peep, then a break then peep peep till it finally spiralled upwards in a lonesome eerie warble. it was a strangely unnerving sound on such a night like the cry of a lost soul of a sailor rising in desperation to be plucked from the sea. For many years we seemed to attract a lone Whaup who kept up a war of attrition with Dauvit who seemed to find its mournful matting call a personal affront. Curlew song on you tube

The wind had its own song as it whistled through the slack old slates sometimes though it would stop singing and scream at us as it tried to batter down the chimney that had stood for well over 200 years. On those nights it was not hard to imagine our old house hunkering down even lower to the ground to escape its onslaught.

Happier sounds there were too, the wild geese calling their invitation to join them as they migrated south for a warmer winter ah so tempting was their call. The blackbird having a whistle argument with Dauvit over who really owned the land, like a wonderfully scored duet. Or the starling who caused great confusion in the breast of Cookie our small black cat with white socks and moustache that looked like she had been caught stealing the cream. You see I had never had a cat before and used to whistle her home like we had the dogs when I was young. The only problem was this wily Starling had learned to imitate my whistle so one day I found myself in the courtyard with Cookie sitting on the ridge of the low roof.   I whistled and she began to turn to come down the roof to me when I apparently whistled her from the back garden. Her head twisted and turned in growing confusion at my ability to be two places at one time I had never thought to see a cat poots(pout petulantly) but she certainly did as I burst out laughing. Indeed she was so unamused she refused to come near me for the rest of the day.

The other sound that sits strong in my memory of that time was of standing at the corner of the house on a warm summer evening and hearing a baby cry. I called Dauvit out for I knew none of the houses in the area had young children and the crying sounded quite distressed. He smiled taking my hand as he led me down the road till we reached the auld brig, there he guided me down the path to the beach. He turned me to look into the curve of the bay standing behind me with his strong arms enfolding me in his warmth as we watched the common seals and their pups sprinkled like living rocks across the bay.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 03 May 13 - 07:04 AM

Megan, your writing makes me want to visit Orkney.

In New England, with our long (although not as long as Alaska's!) winters, the call of the spring peepers is one of the most welcomed sounds. Peepers are small frogs, about an inch or so long, and when they get together in a pond, the sound can be overwhelming for those who don't enjoy it for what it is: the sound of spring. Peepers in the pond down the road

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 03 May 13 - 03:24 PM

Megan, your account of the distressed cry reminds me of something- I've never even told anyone of it - that I once experienced.

I had recently bought a couple of acres in the country just over the hill from where my brother lived with his family. He had a few sheep and they grazed in the meadow bordering the stream. It was a peaceful spot, always reminding me of the psalm.

Anyway. One day I was outdoors when I heard a repeated cry for help. It was coming from my brother's direction and I sprinted up the trail, my heart in my mouth.

Help! Help! The sound got louder the closer I got. I crested the hill and listened for the direction of the call.

And again, the sheep sounded: Help! Help!

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 04 May 13 - 06:30 AM

Sunday mornings have always been my time with Dad. He was an early riser from having to get up at 4:00 AM in order to be at whatever job site he was on at that time. When you work bridge construction, you kind of have to go to where the bridge is, and most crews start by 7:00 AM. He was never able to turn off that internal alarm clock, so he'd still be up early on the weekends. On the occasions that I'd be living in the same town, I'd go over for coffee, and we'd sit and talk. Sometimes, I'd stay with him at the place out on Goose Pond, and we'd sit in the kitchen and listen to the quiet quickly being replaced by birdsong. If we were really lucky and the wind was either still or blowing from the east, we might hear the loons calling to one another.

My dad wasn't a big guy. Maybe five eight in his workboots. I don't know what he weighed, but whatever it was, it wasn't much and would have been all muscle. Wiry, is what I heard one of the cousins call him, Billy is a wiry little son of gun. He was Billy to the family, and Moe to everyone else. Moe was short for Moses, Billy because he was Moses Jr and our last name is Bill.

He'd be sitting there at the table in his jeans and a pocket tee-shirt, his Quebecois ancestry obvious in his wiry build. His face, arms, and neck were all weathered dark by sun and wind from working outdoors all his life, making it easy to see our native ancestry, too. All except his feet, they never saw much sun and were almost blindingly white compared to the rest of him. Every so often, when he didn't think I was looking, he'd look over with love and pride in his dark eyes.

I miss those Sunday mornings.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 04 May 13 - 11:23 AM

I love the image of the white feet, Tami!

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 04 May 13 - 12:50 PM

Lass they sound like real special memories.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 06 May 13 - 03:19 AM

A glimpse of a sail slipping out of the bay the skipper judging the local waters to catch the oot race the rushing ebb tide that will grab him and allow him to ride it like a galloping horse all the way round the island to Birsay should he wish. From there he can catch the wind to make the dash to Shetland or work his way over to Norway as our forefathers did.

The local boat, the Orkney Yole wide beamed and shallow of draft they are clinker built and had almost died out on our islands. Thankfully an association has been formed to preserve and promote the yole and the first new built one in about a century was completed in if I remember rightly 2008.

Thought to have been brought to us by our Viking ancestors they were ideal for transporting people and goods between the islands. They are small by modern standards but could carry a considerable load because of their stability. Two of Dauvit's uncles were renowned builders not only for their own small island but also throughout the north isles it is also thought they were the last north isles builders to carry on the tradition.

Watching the sail disappear round the point of Ness I smile. Lilly the first of the new generation of Orkney Yole epitomises all that I love about my island the quiet sense of continuity. Yesterday, today and tomorrow, tilling, planting, reaping onward we move generation to generation yet our men still go to sea and our women still show their treasured possessions on the sideboard as our ancestors at Skara brae did.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: jacqui.c
Date: 07 May 13 - 02:54 PM

A sunny afternoon, a banjo, dog and cup of coffee.

What more could a man want?

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: kendall
Date: 07 May 13 - 03:07 PM

A more comfortable seat

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 07 May 13 - 04:21 PM

Nice picture. And sun. Sunshine has been in short supply in Alaska.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: gnu
Date: 07 May 13 - 05:15 PM

Kendall, yer seat must be comfy enough on accounta ya landed jac.

This thread is one of my all time favs of all Mudcat threads! The poetry in your words exacts all manners of emotions from me. Thank you, each and all.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 08 May 13 - 08:13 AM

I was late walking the dog last night. By the time we headed out the door, the mist was rolling in. There are no streetlights or sidewalks on our road, and I love that, but it does make after-dark walks a little dangerous. We just went a little ways, down the gated dirt road that leads to the town pump house. There is a beautiful little marsh down there full of spring peepers still peeping their little hearts out. I stopped to enjoy the sights and sounds. Among the cattails, I noticed a pair of red-winged blackbirds flying from cattail stalk to cattail stalk, the mail on the top of the cattail, the female staying lower. Red-winged blackbird males are handsome creatures, all black, except for a stripe of yellow visible on his shoulder, like an epaulette on a uniform. When he spreads his wings, the large red patch under the yellow becomes visible. The female is streaked brown and white, all the better to be invisible when sitting on the nest. The deer also use the gravel road, I can see their tracks. I suspect there may be a mink, fox, or other medium sized mammal using the marsh, as Bandit is always very interested in the riprap around the culvert that allows the marsh to flow under the road rather than over it when the water is high. It isn't at all high right now, and that worries me. It has been a very dry spring this year, and I hope for rain soon.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: kendall
Date: 08 May 13 - 07:43 PM

I'll send you some tonight.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 08 May 13 - 10:48 PM

Aw, thank you, Kendall!

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: kendall
Date: 09 May 13 - 08:01 AM

Did it arrive yet? I don't know your zip code.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 12 May 13 - 06:12 AM

It had been a tough day, although I had reason to celebrate, the housing association are finally going to remove the slippy dangerous shower and just dish the floor turning it into a proper safe wet room. I was however surrounded by people drowning in bad news and sadness, that is their story to tell not mine.

By the time I finally closed the door at night and eased back into the recliner I was drained and feeling blue. As I sat quietly trying to push away the cares of the day a small memory timidly crept to the edge of my consciousness, it quivered with fright each time I looked at it till I had calmed enough for it to edge closer.

It was a simple little memory from oh so long ago yet as fresh as the day it was made. I was fifteen and sitting with my big brother in Abottsinch Airport waiting to board my first ever plane. We were not going that far just to a country festival in London but for me it was to be a big adventure, my first flight and my first time in a proper hotel. At that moment however it looked like a vanishing dream as heavy rain and black forbidding clouds threatened to ground our flight.

Suddenly there was an announcement there was a short gap in the weather and we would take off. We were quickly hustled aboard, the hostess gave us safety instructions, checked we were all buckled up even as we headed for the runway.

It felt like we were crawling along as the pilot took us into a long slow ascent the dark cloying cloud clinging to us like a shroud. My heart felt heavy with disappointment and anxiety, was it safe to fly through this? Would I ever catch a glimpse of the ground I had so wanted to see from this height?

Suddenly we broke though the top of the cloud and I gasped in surprise at the bright sunshine and fluffy white cotton wool landscape below us. I don't suppose I had ever really thought about it to me the sun was either there on sunny days or not on dull cloudy ones, yet here it was shining brightly while on the ground it had ceased to exist.

The memory gave me one last little butterfly kiss then wandered of to play somewhere else. I allowed the worries of tomorrow and the cares of today to sink into the cleansing river of evening. Sighing in the secure knowledge that no matter how dark the clouds got above them the sun is still shining and it will break through them someday.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: kendall
Date: 12 May 13 - 07:15 AM

There's a song in there.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 14 May 13 - 02:36 PM

It was beautiful morning at the park today. Sun shining, birds singing, and children laughing and learning. We had 60 five-year-olds come to the park this morning for nature programs. They are like popcorn at this age, all over the place, but they are so much fun to spend time with! They all want to stand close to you and tell you about every tiny detail of their lives and it's sometimes hard to get them to concentrate on what they are supposed to be doing. My thought is that if I taught them at least one new thing, then I have accomplished something. Today's nature programs focused on using their senses and it is always amazing what they notice. The red of the stems of tiny ferns that most adults never even notice, the bumpiness of the clay in the picnic field under their feet, one tiny bird call that I never would have noticed if they hadn't brought it to my attention, the smell of the grass they're treading upon. And most of all, being able to experience the park through their innocence and wonder.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 15 May 13 - 03:11 AM

A child's eye view


Look through my eyes see what I see
The whole world is fresh and new to me
The things you've stopped seeing
You no longer hear
Are bright and exciting
Wondrous and clear.
I don't over think things
I'm filled with their joy
I dance in the sunshine
All my senses employ.
The veins on a leaf
The croak of a frog
A caterpillar crawling
Sharing food with my dog.
My very first snowflake
The rough feel of a log
I look and I listen
With eyes open wide
Its fresh and its new
And I don't try to hide.

MHTBL 15th may 2013 0810hrs

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 15 May 13 - 06:40 AM

Megan, That's wonderful!

I get to do it all over again today, except that I'll be poking through tide pools with them instead of on the trail. And I get paid to do this!!!

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 15 May 13 - 06:49 AM

You lucky lass.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 29 May 13 - 07:19 AM

I took a trip back "home" ten days ago. It's not the area where I spent the most time as a child, but after all the moving we did (seventeen moves in my 15 years of life at that point), it was the place that felt the most like home. I dropped in on our old landlords and had a lovely visit, and they let me wander though our old house. Standing in what was my old room, I remembered all the mornings that I awoke before the alarm clock went off and lying in bed listening. I could tell the weather from the sounds I heard. If it was foggy, I would hear the fog horn from the lighthouse and the bell buoy out in the bay, but everything else would be all muffled. If it was snowing without being a northeaster, it was all quiet. If there was a northeaster going on, I would hear the snow hissing on the windows and the wind sounding like it wanted to blow the roof off. Some mornings, I'd hear the lobstermen in Back Cove behind the house getting ready to go out for another day, gear clanking and NOAA on their radios giving the marine report. Summers, I'd be woken up earlier by the birds singing or the sound of Paul Yates' lawnmower at 5:00 AM.

I will always miss those winter mornings, though, when I would lie awake in the dark, snug and warm in my bed listening to the bell buoy or the foghorn.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 29 May 13 - 08:21 AM

Lass that is a wonderful picture you painted in my mind. My Uncle Tom was blind and loved going for walks with people who could paint the scenery with their words, he would have loved listening to you.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: kendall
Date: 29 May 13 - 08:26 AM

Maine is truly Gods country; he/she/it doesn't spend the winter here.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 29 May 13 - 10:48 AM

Kendall, winter is when the rarest beauty is to be found, because there are fewer of us to appreciate it. The deep blue of the predawn hours during a snowstorm contrasting with the white of the snow; the deep green of the pines against the blue sky; the bare branches of the hardwoods silhouetted against overcast skies; The silver reflection of the full moon on crusty snow; the thousands of bursts of color made by sun shining through ice on the trees after an ice storm. It's a starker beauty than the other seasons, but no less beautiful.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: gnu
Date: 29 May 13 - 02:24 PM

What a wonderful thread. Megan, r1... absolutely beautiful posts! Thank youse.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: AllisonA(Animaterra)
Date: 29 May 13 - 03:01 PM

Beautiful, Tami!

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Charmion
Date: 30 May 13 - 11:18 AM

This morning, we woke up at 4:30 a.m. to the whistling of a white-throated sparrow, the "O Canada bird", who sings the opening phrase of our national anthem to announce his presence to the world. He also has a wide range of piercing two-note calls and, now that it's getting hot and we have our windows open, he can jolt us out of a sound sleep.

At the first flutter of an eyelid, Rosie the cat is on the job to finish what the sparrow started. Whether we want it to or not, our day has begun.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 31 May 13 - 01:27 PM

Well folks I have to report that I woke to a foggy drizzly morning. I wandered over to the window and there I was faced with the most blatant and disturbing display of public sex right there on my front lawn.

There they were quite obviously at it and me a former Sunday school teacher as well. I mean what else could I do I phoned the housing association to complain giving them a very accurate description of those involved, only to be told they would do nothing, absolutely nothing.

Apparently the local bylaws do not cover amorous sparrows, how was I to know that. When he stopped laughing Brian informed they would begin work ripping out the bathroom I have had problems with and installing the new one.














OK I KNOW
which way is the cellar?

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: LilyFestre
Date: 31 May 13 - 04:01 PM

I woke up to the sunshine sneaking around the edges of a quilted wall hanging that I purposefully hang on the window to keep the rising sun out of my bedroom...today that little trick didn't work.

It is about 90 degrees in northern Pennsylvania today...much to hot for me. ICK.

Michelle

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 22 Jun 13 - 04:00 PM

The sun played peekaboo through the leaves of the large old oak as we sat in its shade to eat our picnic. It was hard to believe we were only a few hundred yards from the slip road to the motorway. Two young rabbits were busy playing tig around the stump of another tree nearby while an angry raven scolded them from the safety of the next tree down the avenue.

We stood and slowly continued our walk back to the car park talking of grandparents, parents and others now gone who had given us life and shared their life with us both good and bad, the wisdom and the foolishness of the past.

We walked together, the oldest and the youngest of a fast shrinking family relishing our brief time together now that we are usually separated by several hundred miles. The time was we could do this six times a year as Dauvit and I went down for conferences four times a year and Roy would come up for two of his holidays, now ill health and lower incomes has reduced our visits considerably, this was our first in over a year.

For the past week we have enjoyed each others company and revisited places he had taken me as a wee girl. Well now it is back to old clothes and porridge as my mum would have said . However I have returned to something I had given up hope of ever experiencing the shower room I have been saying was dangerous for ten years has been replaced with a new wet room by the housing association. Ah how I love my island I dropped of the key with the association before I headed of . I would have left the door unlocked like it usually is but they don't really approve of that, they had even hoovered the carpets before they left.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 03 Aug 13 - 02:40 PM

The last several weeks have seen our young raptors discovering what their big wings are for. We have at least seven young osprey invading each others' air space and the adults birds spend a lot of time yelling at the neighbor kids. We also have a couple of red-shouldered hawks learning how to fly and their parents attempting to teach them that the squirrels and chipmunks are not entertainment but dinner. The young crows are nearly the same size as their parents, but still follow their parents and older siblings around begging to be fed. They are easily identified from the adults by their still slightly fuzzy brown heads. They look so silly, I can't help but laugh at them. Our little phoebes under the eaves of park HQ are also learning to fly, and will be on their own soon. And with the seeds forming in the thistles, the goldfinches are finally getting serious about nesting. But it's my osprey that love best :)

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 03 Aug 13 - 03:35 PM

It must be wonderful to watch them lass.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 03 Aug 13 - 04:22 PM

Speaking of young crying to be fed- yesterday in the parking lot I stood and watched a crow parent trying to appease two young'uns. Nice to know they had successfully raised TWO babies but I suspect they had doubts as to the wisdom of it. S/he pecked diligently at the ground and offered morsels to first one and then the other but whichever one didn't have food at the moment kept its mouth busy blatting away.

As I watched, papa/mama landed. S/he didn't help but looked on, rather scornfully.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: JennieG
Date: 03 Aug 13 - 06:45 PM

On my morning walk I am accompanied by the sound of rainbow lorikeets chattering in the eucalypt trees above, while I dodge the falling blossoms - the lorikeets are nectar-feeding birds, so they chew on the blossoms which of course then fall to the ground leaving a snowy sticky carpet. The air is crisp, fairly cool but not quite cold (although my nose doesn't quite believe that) and I am pleased to get home and have breakfast, sitting in the sun coming in the window. Sometimes I am greeted by the little black and white puss down the street, but not today.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 05:15 AM

Yesterday my brother and I went to a story telling event at Corrigall farm museum we heard some grand tales but as is always the way with me while my ears were on the story my mind was weaving the things I saw and heard into my own tale.


There was a nip in the air as they sat together in the old grain barn. The peat fire under the grain kiln reeked like the lums o' hell but gave of little heat having been to newly lit to be profitable.

One lass drew the auld knitted blanket across her knees silently thanking her grandmother who had spent the hours knitting it while waiting for her to be born. She looked at the squares for a moment lost in the colours, shades of purple and green for the moors, blues and greys for the sea.   There were the yellow of the lichens, the dark brown of the peat and stone and a stony red that granny had said was to reminder of the Red Heads of Eday where the family had come from.

She remembered as a child how her granny would point to one of the squares and tell her tales o trows and hogboons, selkies and the Finn folk. These would be woven with tales of the peoples, from the laird to the old Skatehorn a tramp weel kent around the mainland in days gone by. But the tales she liked the best were those of how the normally quiet island folk would outwit the press gang.

Now she snuggled in the weel loved blanket as Tam o Biggin rose like the great oak doors on the cathedral solid and strong.

"Weel fowks ah'll tell thee the tale oh how I came tae the storytellin."

The tale he told set well the scene for their gathering for it set folk to laughing at the misadventures oh a young man who had come to the hairst hame wie neither a tune a rhyme or a tale tae tell. As his stentorious voice eased to a halt like Raymie Manson's Clydesdales at the end o a furrow a softer voice moved the evening forward wie the tale oh grannies muckle bed or how the farmyard came in the hoose wie peedie Mary.

The supper wis a grand affair wie home brew, bannocks both floory and bere served wie cheese still squeaky frae the still room topped aff wie pancakes and scones served wie rhubarb jam.

Tales flew aboot the room like Whaps in the fog till een wur droopin and hieds sinkin ontae breests till at last meg o' Aglath spoke.

"Tis a fine night we have had and here is one last peedie tale see ye on yer road."

Ye aw ken the auld ruined kirk doon by the shore weel there wis a lad used tae attend that kirk cried Jimmo Bews. Jimmo wis a fine lad wie a fiddle and wis aft times cried oan tae play fur neighbour fowk. A nicht he wis headin home frae playin at the weddin o Jock Burgess he walked along briskly whistlin some oh the tunes that were runnin through his head. As he approached the kirk he saw lights in the building, "strange" thought he "I wonder who can be in the kirk at this hour fur theres nae need tae be in the kirk sae early in the morning."

So though it wid hae bin wiser tae hurry on hame the courage o ale hid him change course till he loupit ower the dyke and headed up tae the door fur a look. He fair goggled in surprise for where there should be an empty room (For in those days maist folk stood during the service) was a brightly lit hall filled wie fowk . now Jimmo hid heard o the fair fowk but hid believed them tae be awfy peedie but these lads and lassies were near his ain five fit but o far slighter build.

Someone spotted him and the hall quietened till a bonny lass approached him.

"Sir that is a fine fiddle I see you carrying and as you can see we could not find a fiddler willing to play for my sisters wedding would you be kind to us and play us a few tunes."

Weel although he had been brought up to be afraid o the fair fowk Jimmo wis a kind hearted lad and the thought of a wedding without a tune to dance to filled him with sadness so he stepped into the room and lifted his fiddle and began to play. My how they danced through reels and strathspeys they stepped lightly and always the lass who first spotted him stayed by his side and praised his fine playing.
They danced till the sun was peeping ower the breest o the brae and a distant cock crow was heard. The bonnie lass who had invited him in thanked him for his kindness to them she gave him a bag o siller for his pay and a blessing that his music would always gladden the heart of all who heard it. She asked if he would consent to come back each year to play for them and to tell the truth since he was half in love wie the lass already he quickly agreed.

And so my friends Jimmo did what we must now and wended he weary way home. But he never told anyone about the fair folks use o the kirk and each year on the longest night he would quietly leave the town to go play for his lady and her friends. He grew older but still he kept his tryst with the lady till one dance night he sighed to the still young girl who stood beside him that this might be his last dance for them. He was now an old man and not so able to walk the mile to the auld kirk a new one having been built in the town.

The lass smiled and asked him if he loved her Jimmo held her hand having laid his fiddle by to talk with his friends for a moment.
"Lass I have loved you so weel all these years that I never took to me a bride from the town."
She kissed him soundly to the cheers of her friends "Then my bonny lad come marry me this night and stay with me forever."
No sooner had he agreed than he felt the aches leave his old bones, his back straightened and he felt a bit light in the head so he closed his een.
Warm arms wrapped round him whispering to open his eyes and look at the man she had married. But when he did so he near swooned with shock for the reflection in the mirror she held showed him as he had been the first night he had ever played for the fair fowks dance.

Back in the town folks said that the old man must have wandered of in the night and fallen over the cliff for he was never seen again. Should you wander past the ruins of the auld kirk tonight on your way home listen you quietly and you might just hear the sweet sound of the fiddle and the dancers laughing.

I bid you all goodnight.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 09:46 AM

Thank you for that one, Meg!

I've no stories this lovely Maine morning, but the crows in the field are busy. I think they have found an owl or a hawk to annoy, or even a fox. I suspect it may be one of the family of hawks in the woods behind the cottage. And two mornings ago I had a dragonfly sitting watch on my porch for a few hours. The field is full of dragonflies of all colors. There are blue-bodied ones with black and white wings called Widow Skimmers, and reddish ones with golden-amber wings, and my guardian of of Saturday morning was a bluish-white fellow with black spots on his wings. And like birds, the males are much more colorful than the females. And in the little ponds and marshes nearby, there are bright blue ones and shiny red ones, and the occasional emerald green damselfly settling on a reed and folding his wings on his back.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Megan L
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 09:55 AM

Tami your evocative descriptions sparks my hunger to visit with you someday and see these wonders for myself.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 10:18 AM

And your stories have the same effect on me, Meg. It's a beautiful, fascinating, magical world we live in, isn't it?

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 12:05 PM

If there is such a thing as a totem for each person - as native folk around here say- mine is the dragonfly. My most recent encounter was the closest.

I was walking on the leafy path to *the* glacier- as we speak of our largest and closest one - with a new acquaintance and dragonflies were lifting off everywhere to the left and right of us as we passed. I said, These are all little ones. I like the big ones; they always make me think of helicopters with tiny people inside.

Just then a large one lifted up and we watched him fly away across the quiet highway and almost out of sight. We walked on a couple of steps and looked up at the whizzing sound approaching. Here came the dragonfly again straight toward us, passed us and flew down the pathway we had just traveled. We watched him go.

And then he turned and flew back. This time he flew straight at me and I offered him my shoulder.

Instead, he landed gently on my right cheek and held on. Did you know they have little hooks on their feet? I didn't know that, but it was distinctly so.

And his belly raised and fell with his breathing. I felt in touch with something magical. And my acquaintance clasped her hands together and squealed, Oh, I wish I had a camera!
                      ******************
A friend of mine was biking down a path when he doubled back because something had caught his eye: a huge dragonfly, whole and strong but quite dead. He brought it to me and it rests on a bed of white cotton on my dresser.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: ranger1
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 09:48 PM

For you, Ebbie: Guardian of my cottage.

Subject: RE: BS: Sunshine Thoughts
From: Ebbie
Date: 12 Aug 13 - 10:31 PM

Thanks, Tami! There are so many kinds and colors and sizes and configurations of them. Recently I have taken up a water class and I have painted three very different ones. One of them has a pink body, lacy orange wings and a shiny red head! My favorite of those three, though, is an all blue one, three different shades, from baby to cobalt to navy.

Oddly, my mother didn't like them- and from her we learned to call them 'snake doctors'. Suffice it to say, she didn't like snakes.