cats, chicken, food and singin'

above here's another proof that our cat means no harm to our chicken - actually, when allowed outside of the hen-yard, chicken eat up all her catfood from her bowl. in this photo, my husband holds Hős Hibor - a young barred hen named after a character in Michael Ende's book called 'The Neverending Story'. on the left side, my mother in law's holding the cat on her lap. it was the cat who wanted to be there :))

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last Sunday, as per usual, three of my kids' cousins visited us. I prepared a pizza dough and the toppings and they placed it on the pizza. in this photo, they are spreading the tomato sauce on the pizza - all home made :)

From left to right there are the three cousins, aged 3, 8 and 9; and my son, who turns 13 this December.

and finally, here's one piece of the music we are singing. also pictured are my new black dress the simple necklace I have to wear on the concert.
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autumn tales - part one

The cat frowned and pressed her mouth tighter.
She's been living in the house for nine years now.
These chicken are young, but... you just never know with them.
-to be continued-
(or not)





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'Autumn tales' is a series of small tales inspired by the life I'm surrounded with. The series may or may not contain more than one part.

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In fact there is a writers' contest (in Hungarian) for short animal tales. Anyone can submit one piece between 3,000-4,000 characters. I have not written anything as of yet. I'll just see.

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In fact, I'm just getting 'off' the addictive game I've been on for more than a year and a half. I'll just see how it goes. On or off - I know I have to find my way back to writing. I'm sure I've lost something, but I hope there are gains as well.

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Be patient :)

pumpkin story

It's daylight. You can come closer now.

Let me introduce myself: I am the guard of this house.

Hear my story:

Out in the pumpkin-fields, I enjoyed there - always thought that that was it.

But the days kept getting shorter. One morning people took me and many of my brothers to a strange place. First of all, there was the noise and the people. Lots of them.

People rushing around, coming and going by. Some touched me, some didn't even notice me. Some took my brothers away. Never me.

One afternoon the sky turned grey and the Sun hid high.

At that time, there were only two of my brothers left. I felt like never before. I felt abandoned and alone.

And then, along came that girl, hair of chestnut, eyes of autumn clouds.

She saw me, touched me, and smiled at me. She looked somewhere else and saw me still. The woman of the house lifted me up and brought me all the way here.

This is how I got home.
The man of the house took a knife and carved my flesh so that I can have the look I'm having now.

His grip was firm and the knife hurt. He kept talking to me. He made my face.

These are my clothes I'm wearing and this is my life. This is it. I am home.

It is daylight now. You can come closer and listen to my story.

But when darkness comes - stay away. I am to guard.

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I wrote this small piece to record and honor the enthusiasm of my daughter about her own pumpkin. With this writing, I tried to capture a simple-minded Jack, who tells about his life. All photos were made by my daughter. She was the one to select her pumpkin, she instructed her father to carve the face, she chose the gardrobe and the setting, too. Those are her clothes. Her pumpkin. My story. Part truth, part fiction.