Art is the Flower

After my trips to Forest School, I have finally started my nature journal.  Here is what I have done yesterday and today:

Yesterday

Today

The post title is a quotation from Charles Rennie Mackintosh:

"Art is the flower - life is the green leaf.  Let every artist strive to make his flower a beautiful living thing ..."

Not Dead, Fancy Butcher and The Kittens of War

Well just to let you know I'm not dead.  Someone phoned me today to ask if I was because I haven't blogged for so long. 

I've been out in the real world, going to Norfolk, Suffolk and Forest School.

I have also been in the not-real world of etsy quite a bit.

I bought these amazing writing exercise books from an etsy shop called Fancybutcher.  I have got writing again today with this little story inspired by "Inventions 1" from fancybutcher:

Inventions Stimulus

This is the picture I picked, and this is the story I wrote, inspired by it, and fancybutcher's questions:

Mrs Deirdre Broadbottom was playing Johnny Cash in bed.  That is, she was propped up on her pillows playing Johnny Cash songs on her bed-o-matic electronic keyboard.  The Johnny Cash segued into Bob Dylan, and as 'Ring of Fire' turned into 'North Country Fair' and then 'Masters of War' she had an idea for an invention.  Deirdre was pretty sure she could invent an invention to intervene when diplomacy had failed in conflict situations around the globe.  Or anywhere where people were being unnecessarily grumpy or just being a bit of a nob really.

Deirdre knew all about being unnecessarily grumpy.  She had become so herself and didn't like it.  That was why she had decided to spend the peri-menopausal years in bed.  She didn't like it when she got angry, so she stayed in bed and thought about nice things.  Like Johnny Cash/Bob Dylan medleys, crochet and world peace.

She had always found funny-cat videos worked for her.  In fact, her family had become very adept at finding a new funny-cat video on t'interweb when they saw those tell-tale red patches of colour appear on her cheeks.

"Look Mum, this cat's on a boat!"
"Look Mum, this cat's staring at a dog funny,"
they said in the tone of "Please don't throw anything..."

On that fateful day she played Bob Dylan, Deirdre invented the "Kittens of War" funny-cat cannon.  Controlling operations from bed with her adapted keyboard, Deirdre could fire a funny-cat missile into any situation.  The "Kittens of War" could puncture the pomposity of any president, prime minister or politician.  It could work in democracies, despotisms, and dictatorships (paternal or downright evil).

Deirdre wanted to get on with inventing her invention now she had thought of it and create world peace quickly, so she could get back to her secret obsession of writing a folk-rock opera based on the ghost stories of M. R. James.  It would be very nice, and no-one would be angry or grumpy, as it was set in Suffolk.  She was stuck on one thing: there didn't seem to be many cats in any of the stories, and she was finding it difficult to shoe-horn some in. 

Maybe she would deal with the world-peace thing and then get back to writing the lyrics to "A Warning to The Curious".  She looked for the first conflict waiting to be resolved.  She found one immediately: Ukraine.  She aimed "Kittens of War" at militia training centres, without bothering to note which side they were militia for.  Mild titters.  She aimed the "Kittens of War" at referendum polling stations.  Slight chuckling.

"Turn the kittens up to 11!" cried Deirdre

She did and aimed straight for the Russian President's office.  An amusing cat landed at the President's feet.

"I have been such a nob,"  he  thought, "I will send no more selfies of myself topless to Barack Obama.  He's never sent one back, and I may as well face it, he never will.  And I will never invade another former soviet state.  Unless someone asks me to."

Fire! A tortoiseshell cat wearing a Fred Flintstone outfit!

"I will resolve to only invade really hard countries that can stand up to me."

Fire! A cat landed on his desk, put its leg up to wash its bum, then fell off the desktop!

In between guffaws of laughter the President said:  "I will limit my shows of strength to twice a year, and only when really needed."

Fire!  A cat which had tried to lick cream from the bottom of an empty pot, got its head stuck, and was walking backwards in an attempt to get out of it appeared!

He really laughed now.  "Okay, Okay!  No war at all!  I will leave being a nob to the Americans."

Deidre decided that was enough for one day, and she'd had an idea how to get cats into "A Warning to the Curious".  Maybe he could be attacked by a cat instead of a dog ...

Here are the Directions for use for the "Kittens of War" funny-cat cannon:

1. Twist and turn until you see someone being a nob, or just a bit grumpy
2. Let your cannon slide until you have them in the view-finder
3. Rock and pop a kitten into the muzzle
4. Fire it to bounce and pounce where needed
5. Everyone just fire it
6. Don't stop
7. Yeah yeah
8. Shout "Gotta fire it!"
9. Don't stop the hilarious funny-cat bombardment on the conflict situation
10. Until you observe the conflict being resolved as everyone laughs at the funny-cat escapades.
11. Achieve world peace
12. Write a folk-rock opera on a subject of your choice.

Elastic Bandages

Q: How do you know when you're old?
A: When the special offer at the chemists: elastic bandages buy one, get one half price, looks interesting.

(Not) Standing Stones

Not everything in Fleams is a laugh; some things are wistful, quite a few are darksome, and others are just plain sad.
 

I have always wondered about the stone circle at Arbor Low (near Fleams), where the stones lie flat in their places.

Why would people flatten but not remove an ancient monument?

This poem is an imagining of one possible motive.  Maybe at one time, when the folk community had been weakened by an intrusion, for example, Christianity, the folk were ashamed of their current lives.  They felt confused, and weak, and knew that they were but shadows of the former race of giants which preceded them.

It was not that, converted to a new life, they wished to destroy all traces of the old; more that those remains reminded them of their despair.

I have only a tiny piece of life

It is slipping through my fingers
Do not watch me now
Old stones of my people

I no longer live in land

Held under your gaze

I was not strong enough to stand

I was not strong enough
I was not strong
Do not watch me now

I lay you down carefully

Last act of sharing
My little life
That slips through my fingers

My tiny flake of life

Arbor Low

Gardening and The Earl of Hell's Breeches

What fun gardening in the sun with my cat friend "helping".  Although it's a bit off-putting wielding the secateurs when a pouncing cat's about.

The garden at Aimo's House is both Buxton Slug Sanctuary and a daddy-long-legs factory.  We must be responsible for a high percentage of the Peak District's output of them.  In late summer when they invade the house it gets a bit like The Birds; except with daddy-long-legses instead of birds.

Not that I want to make you jealous, but I am just in the sun doing a bit of gardening and also reading this book Aimo brought back from The Falklands:

A Glossary

My favourite thing: a glossary of obscure vocabulary.  Some of the words are just old-fashioned, some Scottish, as there have been a lot of Scottish settlers in The Falklands, and some are completely unfamiliar to me, being Spanish.  A have one little treat for you today, a wonderful expression, which I will be glad to use in Fleams:

Black as the Earl of Hell's Breeches
A description of the weather, meaning a foggy, dark, winter night without moon or stars.

Now that's a quality glossary.

Sheep, Celebrity Wedding Dresses and Axes

You know one of my great successes of recent years was winning the "Identify the Breed of Sheep" competition at the PTA quiz?  You must remember because I do go on about it quite a bit.  (Too much, according to Master Aimson).  Well, at Helen's hen do I won the "Identify the Celebrity Wedding Dress" quiz.  I am very proud, I got a cup and everything.  With the sheep competition, I just got two switched (Scottish Blackface and Leicester Blueface; actually I still think the competition had them switched, but enough of that, I have gone on about it enough); well in the celebrity wedding dress quiz I just got Ellie Jackson and Salma Hayek switched.  I hadn't even heard of Ellie Jackson and who knew Salma Hayek would have such a traditional dress?

But I don't bear grudges, as you can see from the fact that I hardly ever mention the fact that I think the Scottish and Leicester sheep were switched.  The following Christmas, Aimo bought me this book:

A Present from Aimo

so I could check.  I'm not saying we live in the country, but that's the sort of thing you get for a Christmas present around here.

The weather being gorgeous again, we went out for a walk again.  This time, the bird we heard AND saw was:

A Woodpecker.

Here is a picture of our walk yesterday:

Mostyn looking for Axe Edge

which Cheryl sent me from her phone, because we are up on that technology thing, we is practically the kids (and I'm cool according to Miss Miller-Lewis).  It's quite cool living in the country actually.  It does look rather good in this photo, don't you think?

Birds, butterflies and hairy things

A list of birds I have seen today:

blue tit
young blackbird
pied wagtail
grouse


A bird I heard:

curlew


Not a bird:

painted lady (?) butterfly
tortoiseshell butterfly
big hairy caterpillar (possibly dead)


Random stuff I've seen:

Some lichen with red bits
primroses
daffodils
my cat friend
my dog friend
my human friend
lots and lots of blue sky


Nice!