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Why the snowdrops have green tips

Category: Garden | Posted: Mon Feb 25, 2008 8:18 pm

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A long time ago when all animals, flowers and everything else was created, they were all given their own colour. The sunflowers stood tall and proud and rejoiced at their lovely yellow. The bluebells whispered amongst themselves: «Look at us, look how pretty we are!» The red roses nodded and mirrored themselves in the puddles, and were very pleased with what they saw. Yes, they were all very happy and thought themselves very lucky to have such wonderful colours.

«But what about me?» asked the snow. «I haven't got any colour at all.»

«Oh dear, oh dear,» cried the colour fairies. «We forgot about you, and now all the colours have been used. We have nothing left. We'll go and ask the flowers if any of them are willing to share their colour with you.»

So out they went and asked all the flowers, but to no avail. Neither the humble primrose nor the proud delphinium wanted to share their colour with the snow. Everywhere the snow fairies got the same answer: «We're sorry, but we need all the colour ourselves,» they said.

The colour fairies were about to give up when a small snowdrop spoke in a timid voice. «I'll share my colour with the snow, if the snow thinks my colour is pretty enough for it.» The snow was very pleased to get a colour and thanked the snowdrop very politely.

The snow never forgets the kindness of the snowdrop, and does his best not to harm her if he falls while she is blooming. And that's why the snowdrop has green tips on her flowers.



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A slight soreness in the heart region

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Tue Feb 19, 2008 10:39 pm

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"I can't understand why you're keeping that car. You can certainly afford to get yourself a better one to drive around in." I didn't realize at first that the statement was meant for me, but when I looked around there was only me and him in there, and unless the horses had taken up driving, the chap was addressing me.

I straightened up and took a long look at my car. It's 19 years old, it starts when I want it to, takes me as far as I want to go, has heating in the seats, a bit of rust around the bottom, lots of little scratches and dents all over, and only stop when I say so. It's grey, and dirtier on the inside than on the outside. I can pull fencing out of the grass with it, drive up steep, snow covered hills without any problems, and even push heavy hay bales or pull other cars out of ditches if need be.

"Well, it's in perfect working order..." I said. The truth is, it suits me fine. Mainly because it works and it's what I need. Which of course my conversation partner couldn't understand, and proceeded to tell me so in no uncertain terms. I felt a bit confused, but managed to understand the main message of his monologue: My car's a disgrace and I should be ashamed to drive in it.

Now, why should I bother listening to him, and even feel bad about what he said? Probably because I've heard other verses of the same song for most of my life. About my clothes, my chosen studies, curtains, carpets, furniture and husband. They just aren't good enough. "For whom?" I ask. Well, for me, of course! That's when they loose me.

As long as I'm perfectly content with what I have, and what I have works just fine, how can it not be "good enough"? I refuse to change my curtains and carpets because the style is indefinable. I selected them for just that purpose, because I want them to last for longer than one season. I am not throwing the coffee table out because it has some scratches, and I'm definately not changing the sofa just because it was bought back in 1995. It's dark leather and I can't see any signs of wear on it so far.

I know people who love interior decorating, and others who have a passion for fashion, but I'd never stand myself on a pedestal and start deriding them for their life styles. I can see the pleasure they get from adding the perfect detail or the lovely accessories, and I am pleased for them.

So why can't they be pleased for me when they can see I'm happy? Is it because they think I'm not? Or is it because they can't understand that I choose to spend my money on the children, the horses and the garden instead of getting myself a lot of stuff that I neither want nor need? I feel that the peacock mentality rules around here, but I don't want to be part of it. When I buy, I want to buy solid, timeless and lasting. With all the money everybody else is spending, the economy won't suffer because I won't participate.

Thank you very much for letting me vent some steam. I feel better already.

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Where the days are spent

Category: Pets and other animals | Posted: Fri Feb 15, 2008 7:17 pm

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This week we've had winter holidays, and my horse minders have gone off in search of snow to play in. So the girls and I have packed some food and drink and spent the days here:



It does look drab and cheerless without the inhabitants, doesn't it? Well, they were enjoying themselves outside, of course:



My two furry friends were pleased to see us, but they would have been more pleased if we had carried their hay nets.

This is Truls, he's mine:



And this is Gabriella. She belongs to the girls, and is just the kind of pony I wanted when I was a little girl:



I could have shown photos of the surroundings too, but truth be told the greyish hues depressed me, so that will have to wait. The riding hall had two big machines in it, so I'm giving that a miss for now too.

At least now you know where I'm at when I'm out and about enjoying everything Mother Nature feels like throwing my way. I thought I spotted some gills behind Truls's ears the other day - might be a sign of something.

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Childhood memories

Category: Ramblings | Posted: Sun Feb 10, 2008 6:53 pm

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I remember when I was a child, in the early 70's, when all winters had lots of snow, and all summers were endless and warm. There were few cars about and the streets were our playground, as well as the forest, beach and everybody's gardens.

During the summer we practically lived on the beach. We brought food and drink down, our parents sat around talking and a few of them even went swimming and playing in the water with us. We were taught to swim in that little bay, and when we'd finally learned to keep our heads above water, we wanted to learn how to dive. There were lots of funny sea animals to catch if we were quick enough, and one of the grown-ups always knew a name for it, and maybe a story about it too.

In winter we went tobogganing down the steepest road. There were only two cars in the neighbourhood that had to use that road, so we were fairly safe playing there. Everybody else drove the longer way around. My best friend's father was the coolest because he always shoveled the snow from the drive into a huge, big pile in a corner. There we would excavate a big snow cave to play in for as long as the snow lasted. As far as I can remember, it lasted for months, but probably didn't.

One winter we visited my grandparents further inland. There was so much snow on the ground we could make tunnels without anybody shoveling the snow into heaps first. Luxury! It was also so cold for a couple of days that the engine oil began to freeze, which probably was a serious thing. I can't remember how my father solved that, but we didn't get to stay for an extra couple of days. I still feel a twinge of regret for that lovely tunnel work we had to leave behind.

Spring was used in the forests surrounding our homes. We climbed trees, picked flowers, played cowboy and indians and everything else one can play with big woody areas available and not a chain saw in sight. We waded the boggy areas and got scolded for dirty feet and wet wellies, but the lessons never stuck. We knew where to find lily-of-the-valley, and with a small bouquet of that everything would be forgiven.

In autumn we went berry picking, mostly to eat there and then, but we occasionally managed to bring enough back for making jam too. We especially liked berry picking in the rain, for some strange reason. Both the berries and us children were soaked at the end of the day, but it seemed nobody bothered much after the unavoidable scolding and repeated whining about us getting ill. We undressed and sat in the tub for hours on end while reading Donald Duck, thawing out and using all the hot water.

Life was probably not as uncomplicated as I remember, and the weather was probably a lot more changeable, but this is how I remember it, and this is what I'm trying to give my own girls. I can't do much about lack of snow or too cold summers, but I can still drag them with me outside to pick lily-of-the-valley in the rain come spring.

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