The shack

Tonight is the second night of Chanukah (you know, the fried foods festival). Do you remember what I was doing this time last year? That was a magical week last December when you all accompanied me to the beach, squeezing into my little shack and building sand-castles.

We all walked down to the beach once again this morning. It felt good to get out into the bright sunshine and stroll hand-in-hand through the quiet Saturday-morning streets.

Here is the cafe where we stopped and ordered our take-away lattes, because we were celebrating coffeelady's birthday. Happy birthday my little caffeinated friend!! See that little blue container on the pavement? The cafe owner leaves it filled with water, for Blue, Bryn, Tex and Clover to enjoy while they wait.


Look at that!!



This was our view from the shack.

It was a wonderful day.

Sketching

Sunday night sketching, before I iron the school uniforms and throw out the mouldy leftovers from the fridge.



Birdy searched for her queen.
Where might she be?
Sipping hot tea in London?
Cafe au lait in Paris?

Perhaps she is visiting
Rome’s famous fountain,
Or meeting a prince
On an Indian mountain.

Birdy flew fast and strong,
Her wings made up of letters
Which wrote magical words,
And behaved just like feathers.

Her words flapped
“Desperate to find her,”
And “Destination unknown,”
Then spread out “Must stay focused,”
And “On the map it’s not shown.”

While all this time Queen was using
Different wings of her own,
They were the wings of a stage
Far away from her throne.

Ellie and her knight

My mother's birthday is coming up and she requested a collection of some of my latest poems as a present. So this morning I was trawling through the mess of my computer documents (I'm a very messy and disorganised person when it comes to my filing systems, both real and virtual). To my great surprise I discovered part three of "Ellie's Poem," which I do dimly remember writing...but which I hadn't particularly liked and didn't want to use.

I read it again and, actually, I really love it now because it made me smile on a day which has been a tad depressing. You know, one of those Mondays when you stumble from one household task to the next, zombie-like, unable to muster even the smallest hint of joy, for no apparent reason, and then you feel guilty because things aren't so bad so what's your problem and why are you complaining?

So I figure that if the poem cheered me up, then it might well cheer some of you up too, if you too are suffering from the Monday blues.

I think this will be part three now. So part one is this one, then part two, and I suppose that Elzebeta Marionetta's letter will now be part four.

ELLIE’S POEM / Part three

The knight then began
To think of an answer,
Drumming his fingers
On Ellie’s soft comforter.

He looked at the ceiling
And then at the floor,
Cleared his throat several times
And counted to four.

With one hand Ellie held him,
Using the other to pat
Octavia Myrtle
Her tortoiseshell cat.

The knight then stood up
And started to pace
Back and forth on the blanket
And her pink pillow case.

He clasped his two arms
Behind his straight back
And mumbled quite gruffly
And his knuckles went “crack.”

Watching him,
Watching him,
Watching him closely,
Ellie’s brown eyes
Began to close very slowly.
Her upper lids drooped,
Then her eyelashes met,
Their two framing lines
Forming a soft wavy crest.

You know how a wave breaks
At the very beginning?
When it starts to near land,
Water sparkling and spinning?
Well....
That’s how her eyelashes
Looked to the knight,
At that darkest hour
Of sleeping delight.

Now Knight paced on her hand,
And it was his perception,
That freckles of sand
Made her glowing complexion.
And the moon at that moment,
As if knowing Knight’s quest,
Arrived at the window
And came there to rest.

The knight watched amazed
As the moon lit the black
With milk and some cookies
For a true midnight snack.
Knight then sipped warm moon-milk
From a thimble-sized cup,
And he nibbled a cookie crumb,
All the time looking up.

The moon never moved,
It just watched him enjoy,
And said “Chocolate chip’s good,”
And “You’re such a good boy.”

“I know that you worry
About your true quest,
But it’s late and you’re tired
And it’s better to rest.

In the morning you’ll rise
And all will be clearer,
You might even have grown
A whole half millimetre.”

With the hope of this change
The knight lay down his head,
And his small milk moustache
Left a white kiss
On the bed.

Craft, book, music

Before I started blogging I didn't know that there was a place in the world called the Faroe Islands. But now, thanks to Margretha and Dorit, I can visit any time I like! In fact, I was just having a lovely cup of tea with Dorit today when she introduced me to Lisa Hannigan (who is Irish) and this wonderful video which combines craft, books and music. I thought that you might enjoy it as well, good night all.

Imaginary consolation

I came across this quote a few days ago and it has been a source of great joy to me:

"Consolation from imaginary things is not an imaginary consolation." Roger Scruton.

That quote made me feel like listening to this music (click on "Russian Rag"), and looking at this photograph.

This music and this photograph then made me feel like writing a little bit more about that messenger bird which Princess Elzebeta sent to the queen, in search of our long-lost knight.

That message bird flew all the way to the Himalayan mountains, and as she hovered there, in mid-air, between cloud and cliff, air and leaf, she transformed herself (even SHE did not understand exactly how) into a white dove.

Our newly-doved message bird softly landed on the topmost tip of a red triangular roof, and she looked down from her perch and saw a steep, pebbled path winding up the mountain towards her, and along this path, hopping and skipping from stone to stone, moved two tiny creatures.

Each of the creatures had two legs and two arms which they swung to one side, and then again to the other side, a movement which propelled them all the way up to the base of the small, red-roofed, bright-flagged house.

Just as the dove looked down at them, so did they both lift their brightly shining faces towards the piercing blueness and the sharp redness and looked at our tiny feathered friend.

"It's a dove, a dove...It must be a dove house!!" The children ran around and around the house with glee, and the dove perched there silently and watched and watched as the house slowly began to shimmer and shine and then fade the roof-red away, until, in its place, was painted the clearest, cleanest white, as white as the very feathers of...well....of....of a dove!

And from that day onwards, visitors from far and wide would travel over oceans and deserts, deepest forests and grandest of cities, all with the sole aim of visiting the children's little white birdhouse.

But our messenger bird's adventures did not stop there.

No, they certainly did not, for there was still the pressing issue of an errant knight, a failing marionette theatre and a little girl called Ellie, who were all still waiting very very very far away......

What I've been doing....

I built Margalit's sandcastle:

I wrote Duyvken's limerick:

Duyvken said "This whole quilt's a mistake,

And I feel quite a bad stomach ache."

G, J, C and JW

Said "Mummy, we love you!

A kiss-patchwork for you we will make."

I ate a LOT of kosher for Pesach (Hebrew word for Passover) food. A LOT. Oh, and guess what? I'm STILL eating because Pesach is STILL going on, and on. There are certain foods which I eat during Pesach which are completely ADDICTIVE because their taste is so different and peculiar and they remind me of my childhood. For example, "charoset" - a mixture of ground apples, sweet wine, ground hazlenuts, a bit of ground almonds, cinnamon, a dash of ginger and more wine. I dip matzah in it and I could eat it all day. And night. My dad always makes it with the kids, and he always makes extra for me to take home with me. Oh, and the longer it sits in the fridge marinating...the better it tastes.

Another additive Pesach food for me is what we call (in my family) "egg soup." It's bizarre, I warn you. You take salty water, cut a couple of hard boiled eggs into it, and eat like soup. Cannot.stop.eating.once.I.start. Reminds me of my grandparents and other very very happy memories of family eating.

This year, I am excited to announce that there is now an ADDITIONAL ADDICTIVE PESACH FOOD on my list. It can be found here. That is where my mother found it, and then she made it, and gave it to me to take home. I won't even begin to describe the fights in my house over that container of crunchy chocolate caramel matzah HEAVEN. It got ugly.

But I always win.

Chag sameach everyone!! ("Happy holiday")

Elzebeta Marionetta's bird

I woke up this morning and discovered that Elzebeta's bird is flying still - hovering over a sleepy Swedish town as I write this.

Thank you dear Jeanette for unknowingly illustrating this part of the story, and a HUGE congratulations on your wonderful exhibition! May you and your art go from strength to strength.






[Oh, and don't forget...there's still plenty of time to enter the first anniversary giveaway!]

Hot off the press

FIRSTLY, BEFORE YOU READ FURTHER...

STOP!!

HAVE YOU ENTERED THE GIVEAWAY? IF NOT, PLEASE DO SO! JUST LEAVE A LITTLE MESSAGE IN MY COMMENTBOX. MY FIRST YEAR BLOGGING ANNIVERSARY WILL BE CELEBRATED THIS COMING MONDAY WITH A GRAND DRAW AND IT JUST WON'T BE A PROPER CELEBRATION WITHOUT YOU.

But today there is no grand draw....there is, however, a bit of sketching going on. It seems that Sir Knight needed a backstory, and this little post at Julia's place supplied it.

If you are a new reader, then please feel free to catch up with the latest antics of our little Knight here and here and here.

This sketch goes out to Ellie and Caroline, with love.



Elzebeta Marionetta
Sent a letter
To the Queen:
“Dobry den,
Your Royal Highness,
I was wondering
How you’ve been.”

“You’ve been gone
For quite a while,
And although I know
You’re busy,
Your absence has put
All of us
In quite a big ol’ tizzy.

Since you left
On your grand tour,
Our play’s reviews
Have been quite poor.
Critics wrote:
‘This play’s a muddle,
Their wolf now plays
Jemima Puddle.’

Poor Wolfy cried
For two long days.
We cheered him up
In different ways.
Grandma hugged him,
I lent him my crown,
Knight tickled his whiskers,
But Wolfy still wears a frown.

Little Red then declared:
‘I will only wear blue!’
And then Grandma sneezed
(I think she might have the flu).
As for me,
I’ve worked hard
Ever since you’ve been gone,
For I’m a queen in the making
And the show must go on.

But now something has happened....
And I write with dismay that
My knight in shining armour
Has gone far away.
Knight said, ‘Princess my dear,
I must go find our Queen,’
Then he left with a clatter,
Never again to be seen.

Ten long days
We have waited,
Ten long nights
I have wept,
For his absence is
Truly
So hard to accept.

Now I hope that this letter
Will reach you post-haste,
For my birdie is fast,
Swiftest wind does she race.
If Knight’s with you already,
This request do not heed,
But if Knight is still missing,
Your royal help we do need.”

Your adoring,

Princess Elzebeta xxooxxoo

Pure magic

I just popped in to say hello to Julia in Prague, and guess what? Julia had this sketch all ready and waiting for me. It is the most breathtaking illustration of "Ellie's Poem" and I must say I am sitting here and literally shaking like a leaf as I think of how amazing this experience is for me.

I received the gift of a play-doh castle from a little girl and her mother (who I know only within the four walls of my commentbox), and I wrote a poem for that little girl and her mother as a way of saying thanks. That poem was then read by a mother in Prague to her own little daughter, and then that little girl posed for her own mother (an amazing artist) and was sketched into an illustration for that very same poem.

This is pure magic.

Sketching

Well...Ellie's castle seems to have taken on a life of its own now.



Not many know,
But with you this I’ll share,
That sometimes in the night
If you sit up and stare,
You can see from your bed
An amazing sight
And it’s always,
Mysteriously,
A castled delight.

Little Ellie discovered this
On that darkest of nights,
Right after her mother
Had shut off her light.
She sat up and stared
And saw all that was there,
The turret,
The window,
Rapunzel’s gold hair.

Then Ellie did see him
From the golden braid fall,
He pulled at the ribbon
And slid down the wall.
It was that silly knight
She had yesterday seen,
But this time he saw her
And said,
“Welcome, my Queen.”

Ellie giggled and said,
“Oh you silly old knight
I’m not yet a queen,
I’m still Princess tonight.
My mother still helps me
When my shoes I lace up,
I’m quite small,
And still drink
From my pink dolly cup."

“Well, that’s strange,”
Said the knight,
“For as I travelled down,
I was sure that I saw
On your head a gold crown.”
“That’s my hair,” Ellie said,
As she jumped off the bed,
And then asked him
A difficult question.

She said:

“Dear Mr. Knight,
I just don’t understand
Why I saw you before
Down there on the land,
Yet tonight you were up
On that turret so high!
If you're always changing
Then I think....
So am I.

The knight looked at Ellie,
Squinting his eyes,
And said “You’re right where you always were,
Here by my side.
Your castles keep changing
It’s nothing to fear,
Sometimes they are far
And sometimes
They are near.”

“It shows that you’re growing
And with that change does come,
Like beginning to read
Or not sucking your thumb.
At times you will be
In the castle itself,
Then that castle will change
And be a toy on a shelf.
You will say ‘But I’m sure
That small castle was bigger,
And in it were Madeline,
Angelina
And Tigger.’”

“Then one night
You might say,
‘Well, this couldn’t be right,
That shelved castle
Has changed into
My brand new night light.
It shines in the dark
When I’m scared and alone
And then glows in my heart
Like a whispering poem.’”

“Each time you’ll be right
And each time I’ll agree,
For each castle is yours,
Numbers one, two and three.
You live in one castle,
You build one of your own,
And you’ve had many more
Since the day you were born.”

Ellie quietly listened
To what the knight said,
And then she decided
To go back to bed.
She held out her hand
And the now-tiny knight
Jumped on and,
Quite sweetly,
Kissed her goodnight.
She then placed her red lips
On his tiny shell ear
And said:
“But sweet Knight,
Please do tell me,
What are YOU doing here?”

A GIFT

I received an extraordinary gift today, handmade by Laura and her beautiful daughter Ellie.

Dear Ellie,
Your castle is FABULOUS, thank you so much. I have copied it onto my computer desktop so that I will see it every time I open my computer.

Dear Laura,
I thought and thought about a way to tell you how much this castle means to me...hmmm...how shall I thank Laura?.......

So here is a little poem for you and Ellie,
with love.



ELLIE'S POEM



A princess needs a castle,
As does a prince,
A king,
And queen.

But royal families’
Bricks and mortar,
Though so lovely,
Are unseen.

“Tell me,”
Said the knight in armour,
As he looked straight through the walls,
“If a better spot for duelling
Can be found in all the world?”

“Tell me,”
Said the knight in armour,
As he stood deep in the moat,
“Is there a better spot for viewing
The many hilltops where I’ve fought?”

And all this time,
So quiet,
Peeping,
Little Ellie watched him,
Giggling.

“Silly knight to come this far,
And not even notice where you are.”
She waved her arms and whistled loud,
But knight just stood there silent,
Proud.

She sang “Yoohoo”
And “Hello down there,”
But the knight heard nothing
As he stood and stared.

She would have whistled
Or thrown a paper plane,
Or tapped very loudly
On the windowpane,

But mama came in
And said “You gave me a scare,”
And “That’s only the wind,”
And “There’s no-one down there.”

Mama said “Time for tea,
And a storybook,”
And out of the window
She never did look.

Later,
As Mama cooked dinner
She said to Ellie “Go play,”
And she gave her lots of yellow,
And a little pink,
Clay.

Ellie knew what to make,
And she built it fast.
A bright yellow
pink flagged castle
With a deep moat of glass.

Mama smiled and said,
“That’s a beautiful sight,”
And Ellie whispered,
“I made it for that silly old knight.”

“I made it so bright
So that he’d look up and see
That the castle is real
And in it
Lives
Me.”

HAPPY NEW YEAR

Here I am, in my little shack by the sea, on the very first morning of 2009. This photograph is proof that Mr. Commentbox finally made it down to the beach. He was my shack butler - bringing me refreshments, handing me my towel, checking for bluebottles and for any passing joggers who may want to chat me up (thanks Alice, your comment was spot on...hehe).

KMKAT requested that her sandcastle be, in fact, MY sandcastle. Her exact words were "a little sandcastle retreat", which was really very selfless of her, don't you think? I took her request very seriously, immediately requesting that my friends and family now refer to my beach shack as "The Castle", and to me as the Queen of the Castle.

At the entrance to The Castle I built myself this little darling sandcake, and I requested that all of the visitors to The Castle serenade me with birthday songs upon their arrival at MY beach.

But I am a benevolent Queen, and I did not forget my sandcastling responsibilities.

So here, for your enjoyment, is Anna's beautiful sandcastle, as per her request -

"A star of sand and shells and an unexpected item."

Then I went for a little swim, and read a bit (Agatha Christie today), and thought about KMKAT and how unfair it seemed that she didn't have her very own sandcastle. I sat up and picked up my straw basket so as to rummage through it in the hope of finding inspiration, when what did I see? The basket had left a lovely print in the sand, and it looked remarkably like the pattern of a knitted sweater or a scarf of some sort.

Perfect.

Just as I had finished photographing this sandknitted delight, the phone rang. Yes, I do sometimes bring my phone to the shack, and today I was expecting one or two calls....I pick up the phone and I hear a voice which I haven't heard in many years.

It was my dear dear friend S from the US. I sat in my shack beside the glorious beach and was suddenly transported back to 1991, a snowy day in Providence RI, a newborn Miss Commentbox, an extraordinarily young Eleanor, and a "Mothers' Group" organised by the local Community Centre. There was S, standing in front of me, carrying her baby boy (I spoke to him too on the phone, his voice has definitely deepened since then) and smiling at me. It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship and much shared happiness.

AMAZING!!!!!!!!!

So what did I do? Of course, I made the beautiful S a sandcastle of her own:

HAPPY NEW YEAR everybody.

I had a fabulous time with all of you in 2008, and I look forward to continuing laughter and friendship in 2009.

The Story

December 31st, 2008, no slouching around for this blogger. There are sandcastles to build, photos to take, posts to publish. This is serious. Dudes.

Waking at dawn means that the beach is EMPTY (which means it is STUNNING). Take a look for yourselves:

The early bird catches the best spot on the beach, apparently.
I don't mess around today. It's all about the bloggers' needs today.

Yo Badger - It's been a pleasure. Dude!!

Now a break, sitting on my towel, looking out at a surfboard gondola,

and visiting the beachside cafe which has this crazy-cool wallpaper which reminds me of Anna every time I see it.

Back to BUSINESS people. Tuli requested a castle with a moat, seaweed decoration, and a coffee-cup turret. I had to get busy and drink that skinny cap FAST.

Hey Tuli, girlfriend, dig this work of art! Your wish is my command!!!

Close-up of turret:

That's me swimming laps out there...I set the camera on automatic to take the shot.

Please note the shell and seaweed decorations and the deep moat.

Two castles down, two more to go.

Life's good.

As I was photographing the castles a jogger paused beside me and watched for a while, then he said "There's a story behind this." I answered him:

"There sure is."

It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea...

Miss Commentbox and I walked down to the beach together, for it seems that the male Commentboxes do not want to leave the house on their summer holiday. They like to stay at home and watch the cricket on television instead. Oh well.

It was extremely windy down at the beach today and almost cold. This would be a test for our humble shack, and it passed with flying colours. The secret of the shack's solidity lies in its sand-filled pouches, terribly clever and so simple.

We had brought our breakfast along with us, muesli with yogurt and kiwi fruit. Great view as we ate and chatted. We watched the clouds gather and it felt like a storm was beginning to brew. I talked quite a bit about my sandcastle plans for the day, explaining to Miss Commentbox that even though kmkat was next in line for a sandcastle, I wanted to save hers for another day and build one for Jen instead. "Why?" asked the lovely Miss C, "Well," I explained, "Kmkat requested that I build a sandcastle retreat for myself, and I loved that idea so much that I wanted to save it and build it for my birthday." Miss C understood, saying "And isn't it perfect timing? How did Kmkat know that it's only three more sleeps until your birthday?" "Bloggers, we're spooky that way," I answered, and Miss C understood. Now...Jen requested a sandcastle with Magic Powers which would be able to turn a Chicago winter into spring, while having no negative effect on the world's general weather patterns.

Simple!

We decided to build a sandman. Reminiscent of a snowman, yet more....summery.

So without further ado, please make "Mr. Bob the Sandman" welcome:

Isn't he a handsome and magical young sandman?!

Would you look at that face? Just look at him! So happy, and yet...is that a tricky little glint in his eye? Why, yes, he is working his Magical Powers already. Although, just maybe, he is a little confused, because our beach is suddenly colder and windier and darker. I wonder if Chicago experienced any change of temperature. Hmph.

Please do admire Mr. Bob's three buttons.

This is what our shack looked like from Mr. Bob's point of view. Can you see the dark grey clouds forming?

We looked away for a moment, and the next thing we knew, a little handwritten letter had materialised in Mr. Bob's pudgy little hand.

Miss C and I walked towards Mr. Bob and curiously peered at the letter. Would you believe that it was an excerpt from Edgar Allan Poe's poem "Annabel Lee"? Mr. Bob smiled proudly and told us that a lovely little fairy (by the name of Sabina) had flown very very far so as to hand-deliver this little poem to us. Miss C and I smiled knowingly at each other as we read about the kingdom by the sea. Mr. Bob was indeed working his very best sort of magic for us today.

We thanked Mr. Bob, gave him a little loving pat, and then returned to the shack. We were sitting there, looking out at Mr. Bob and the ocean and a group of 5 year olds who were frolicking on the sand. Suddenly, one of the little boys spotted Mr. Bob and ran up to him. He stood in front of Mr. Bob and bent over a little to admire his beauty and magic, then he looked to his right, and then to his left, and then he reached his right hand out towards Mr. Bob and TOOK SOMETHING and then raced off down the beach.

By the time we had raced down to Mr. Bob, this is what we found:

SHOCKING. That little boy had STOLEN one of Mr. Bob's buttons!! Not the seed pod....not the bottle cap....no.....but the cuttlefish bone!!!!! Mr. Bob was deeply unhappy, as you can see.

We tried to cheer Mr. Bob up by allowing him to wear my sarong.

He was quite pleased with himself, even though ....to be perfectly frank....it looks much better on me....I'm just saying....

After a while, Mr. Bob finally agreed to give back the sarong and we all had a little nap. Upon waking up, I peered out of the shack towards the ocean, happy in the knowledge that Mr. Bob's cheerful smile would be looking back at me...when WHAT should I see....but two men, grown men, pointing at Mr. Bob. Then, ONE OF THESE MEN RAN UP TO MR. BOB AND.....

JUMPED ON HIM.

It was the man on the left.

I just managed to take this photo as they walked away.

This is the SHOCKING scene of the crime.

The most surprising thing about this was that the man in question seemed almost childlike as he stomped on Mr. Bob, almost as if he was fulfilling a long-forgotten and suppressed childhood desire. Also, his friend seemed to both understand and appreciate the need a FULLY GROWN MAN might have to destroy someone's sandcastle.

With that, we packed up the shack and walked home.

Dear Jen,

Mr. Bob will live on forever in our hearts, as we hope he will in yours.

His magic is eternal.

Love,

Eleanor and Miss C xxxx

Seventh day

As I left for the beach this morning, I noticed that our magnolia tree in the front yard is in bloom.

Once you have inhaled the scent of a magnolia blossom, you can never go back to a magnolia-scented candle with the same delight.

As I walked through a small park on the way to the beach I saw a little Scottie who looked EXACTLY like a baby Tex. I quickly put my basket down so as to take this photo, at which point another dog took the opportunity to pee on it. So that's why I didn't manage to get another photo of this cutie-pie (whose name, by the way, was Frank).

No grey whatsoever this morning!

The shack was soon up and ready for the day ahead, while the other commentboxes were still safely tucked in bed at home. Lovely.

I gazed out at the water, had a quick dip, and began to work on Esti's sandcastle.

Esti had requested a sandcastle decorated with pebbles,

shells,

and twigs.

Luckily, the ocean had washed many precious treasures onto my shore.

It was a little windy, so I built the castle in the shack.

I really hope that Esti likes it as much as I enjoyed making it!

(Of course, the drawings and photographs are ALL Esti's amazing creations. I hope, dear Esti, that you will not mind that I printed and cut them in this way....it was only for the purpose of making you the very best sandcastle I could think of!)

Tonight is the eighth (and last) night of Hanukkah. We lit the candles at our home with my mother and father, and it was a great evening.

Good night all. I shall try to make a sandcastle every day as per your requests.

So much fun!!