Two haiku

update: The Haiku writing Month is this October.

Summer's gone away

and so have I, dying here

into my vision

Floating silver threads

- Upon crisp crimson carpet -

Hum about winter

my weekend

This weekend we attended the 8th Annual Hungarian Arachnological Conference - and it is always a family event. There are not many arachnologists in our country, and those who have family, usually bring their kids and spouses along. The Conference is almost always located in a small village, where wildlife (including spiders of the wild) can be studied immediately and within easy reach.

The schedule usually goes like this: Everyone arrives at Friday, late afternoon. On Saturday, the researchers have their 10 minute-speaches. It usually takes the first part of Saturday, and then we are free for the rest of the weekend - adults are usually having fun, while kids voluntarily enter the see how much dirt can you get into your clothes within an hour contest. We all head home with tonnes of muddy, dripping clothes by Sunday...

This year, we were canoeing in a still back water brach of River Duna (Danube/Donau) in the North-Western corner of our present country.

Enjoy the pictures!

A friendly horse in one of the nearby yards. All the younger kids felt compelled to feed her.

A friendly volley-ball game. The kids enjoyed falling into the sand, not caring reall much about the direction of the ball itself. One of the adults playing was a professional volleyball tranier - I really respect her staying with us during the game!

One of the things I adore in backwater branches: that your brain sometimes is more needed than your sheer force of hands - the latter is also required, though.

A simple part of the river - and about one fourth of the total crew aboard.

Life in a lifeless log. My favourite picture of the collection.

We made felt spiders using sheep's fleece.

The kids, especially the little girls enjoyed this activity very much. All the spiders pictured above were made according to field guide books of spiders, so, apart from minor details, they all depict an actual specimen. At the bottom left corner, there's the one I made. It is a Crab spider (Misumena vatia). Also photograped: some balls, two weasels of different colors, and four more spiders.

Writing Exercise - two entries and a question

Chris has another writing exercise. The word count limit is 250; with a theme inpiration being ' A rose is but a rose'.

Check her site and feel invited to write your own entry, too. Below are my two entries - hope you enjoy both.

*******************

I’ve just arrived at the park, when a man hailed and popped into the backseat. The car slightly creaked. The passenger was not heavy, but his movements were somewhat clumsy. The smell of aftershave advanced trough the air towards me. Looking into the mirror, I smiled and nodded at him.
To the National Stadium, please. – His voice was trembling.
The engine buzzed and we were soon heading West.
As it was a sunny afternoon, I had the sunshields turned down, but still I was squinting from the brightness that entered my cab.
Are you a football fan?
He startled and shied.
This afternoon’s expected to be a big final between the Devils and the Stars. Have you heard about that?
Actually, I am to meet someone there – he finally said.
That was when I noticed the white rose beside him.
Oh, ladies do like roses, don’t they?
With shaking hands, the man loosened his tie and said nothing.
Finally, the car pulled along. Hardly waiting for a stop, he gave me more than a usual tip and was opening the door and began making his way toward the building.
He was running for a few steps and then abruptly halted and slowed his pace. His fingers run through his hair.
This was when our eyes meet. The rose was still there on the backseat.
I got out of the car and handed it over to him.
Have a good afternoon and good luck!
He was barely 20.

************

The above photo goes off to Beth, who requested me posting a photo of ivy. Here you go, Beth.

************

A rose is but a rose #2

He was barely 20 and freshly rejected.
His hands were clutching to the thorns so tightly that little red rivulets have begun making their way towards his wrist down on the inside of his palm. He took no notice, though. His heart was bleeding, too.

I do not wish to see you anymore.
The way home seemed longer than usual. He took a detour towards the old bridge.
The water was troubled. Waves chased each other and the level was high.
Yellow leaves were blown into the stir – they danced on the surface and were drown in before a gasp of air, leaving soft bubbles a-floating.

I do not wish to see you anymore.
He took the rose and placed it on the railing. The wind began rolling it, too, but he positioned his fingers on the stem. The velvet petals were shaking in the cold.
Mist was creeping out from among the bushes.

I do not wish to see you anymore.
He took a petal, put his lips upon it and let it fall. It whirled and began descending. When it hit the bottom, the river took it peacefully. It was nowhere to be seen in the next second.

I do not wish to see you anymore.
Another petal. The veins run like little roads, drifting disorderly in an abandoned land. He took off all the petals and collected them into his left hand. He saw no directions and his mind was empty. He was simply following the rose.

*****************

Oh my, this was the first time I killed my protagonist. To think about it, I find it strange that I have been waiting so much to do so. I mean I wrote some material and this is the first death. Hmm.

YOUR TURN:

Question 1. How many of your characters have died, because you wanted them to die?

Question 2. Which of my entries did you like more? 'none' makes an eligible answer, too, but in that case, constructive support of such answer is definitely required.

Take a really close look #6

allright, time's up.

I said here that since there had been no correct answers to QUIZ#5, I would be waiting for another day. I asked you to revise your stand and come up with another guess for the mysterious photo #5. The day's gone.

Only one person has changed her mind and took a second guess. Mind you, she said something in the first place then ADDED quote I almost want to say something completely different quote ends. Funny, isn't she?

Well, second guesses are sometimes better than first ones.

In the fifth run of the quiz series, there were 8 guesses from 7 people, and only one was correct. The Hesitant One.

Incorrect guesses this time, were somehow within a limited range of imaginery - gourd/squash/flower.

I especially liked the approach presented by Hoodie who said it was colder than the witches' tit.

And if there was a special honor to the most fantastic explanation that would surely go to Mr. Schprock, who took the quiz into a whole new level by adding a little story about Venutians.

Okay.

The winner is Beth (again), who, in her second guess said the right answer: mushroom.

She also said this was the toughest one for her and I liked that, too.

For the original photo, check back here:

And for proof of it's being a mushroom, take a look at here below:

The photo in the contest pictured the same mushroom from above.

And now, into the sixth. What's this?

It must be the easiest one, I bet.

experiencing the night

with the cold, slapping, starless blanket above me

hard and cold steel lines in the horizon

weight and velocity

thrumming in front of my slow motioned body

mesmerized about the dream

steel on steel

strength, power and freedom

steel on flesh

air

movement

flesh on steel

breathe in

the river is about to break the dam

Take a really close look #5 and a half

Wow, this series has quite a history now.

There were photos that were so easy to find out that they bordered bordom, and yet others that were so difficult that no one, well except the winner was able to figure out the correct answer.

Guess what. This time, picture number five is about the belong to the latter category - except that there is NOT a correct answer this time.

I suggest all of you lurking and de-lurking here to take a second guess.

Try to stay away from the picture and get into reality.

If noone's coming up with at least one single (another) guess I give up and show the solution to the world. Right here.

I'm waiting, you all.

For another day, allright?

Until you all wait AND GUESS!!

I'm leaving you with these, non-quiz, absolutely random photos. I made them between 11 August and 3 September, 2007.

Enjoy!

writing contest

Kaitlyn F. Gallagher has a writing contest for anyone who's wishing to take part.

The limitations are:

- maximum of 500 words

- the piece has to contain, at one point or another the following line: ***I am sister to the serious octopus***, in honor of the very words of her little daughter.

For more information about the contest go here.

Below is my entry. I have already sent it to Kaitlyn over email, so I'm free to post it over here as well.

Strugglingwriter has also entered the competition. Check his version as well, it's sure will be a good fun to read.

Chances are that you are still able to enter....? The deadline is Friday midnight, in a timezone not mine, so please ask Kaitlyn for details.

Hope you enjoy my piece. Constructive comments are always welcomed.

***************************

A vegetarian in the making

The afternoon sun peeked inside. It illuminated the table, where our future dinner was rested.

The knife has been sharpened just today and the blade was shining. Cuts fell easily on the board. One after another, soon there was a small pile of chunks, waiting to be gathered into a bowl. Piles after another, the bowl was filling. Finished.

The oil was slowly warming up. The chopped green paprika slices began sizzling. The distinct smell of sautéed pepper gave away it was time for the meat to enter the fat. Whoooops, in you go! The oil fizzled.

Every now and then, scattered voices of children reached the kitchen throughout the open French window. Giggles, some shouting, and the inevitable stamping of feet on the pavement. The curtain was moving with the wind. A small bush was shaking for a moment as someone passed it by hurriedly. Chuckles and excited murmurs again.

The watch on the wall disclosed the passing of time. Man, has summer gone away already! Ten minutes to six. All right, I have another forty minutes to go. That will do.

‘Hey Leah, it was really nice of you to invite us! Say farewell to the summer – Great idea.’ Ally entered the kitchen. Her straw sandals slipped softly on the stone. ‘So, how’re you doing with this very special something?’
Fine, I am. I have just watched a show on seafood the other day.
‘How’ bout the kids?’
They did not believe it. It is so rare that we get to eat fish or something like that. And an octopus….They thought I was joking. I had to tell them Mommy was being serious.
‘I guess Timmy knows what that is…But how about Karen?’
She did not seem to like the idea of eating one in the first place. She has this little puppet of hers, you know.
‘The one she takes sometimes to kindergarten?’
Yup.

The stew needed some stirring. The fragrance came up in small puffs from behind the lid.
Ally moaned: ‘Wow, I love that smell. I often keep smelling food while…’

The voices now became intolerable. A combination of cries and laughter. Who do they tease again? ‘Momma! Momma!’ – Karen’s weakened voice came closer and closer and finally she was all in, sobbing, her face dirty with streaks of sand mixed with salty teardrops.
‘Momma, Dave’s saying we have Octi for dinner. It ain’t so, is it, Mommy?’
Dear baby, of course not. Octi is sitting on your bed – go and check if you please.
‘No Momma, they say we eat Octi all right.’
Karen, your Octi is unharmed. Want Mommy to get him for you? This one’s here’s another one. An animal that was once alive but now is not. It’s meat.
She was now crying and her words were hardly clear.
‘You told me this is a serious octopus and I am sister to the serious octopus. I can’t….We just can’t let…. us eat…. my brother.’

*****************************

The Dragon in the Sky

Come, said the Dragon in the Sky
leave earthly objectives behind, they are obstacles
peregrinate and let my power infiltrate your feeble body
achieve your own self
let me make you mighty
and change you eternally
you'll never muddle again and'll never feel small
come up to the sky
follow me and the two headed dog
cast away your weakness
---
and so I shaved off my head as I collected
all the brownish fat worms
from the floor of my room
I've been to shop-windows and rejected the steak
stuffed my ears with pieces of clothing
I tore off a moment before
I took my vision
and very rightly so
I claw under the bench under the grass
where I hid my body
so precious ages ago - so meaningless now
all I see are clouds behind
below and above
floating I am cast away
---
Show me no fear I am to help
reach out your hands, further, further yet
---
blind numbness
where's your promise of mightyness?
I'm left on my own
balance
into the void
space without love
b a l a n c e

---
I woke up the other day and I had no heart
---

---
written on 12 September, 2007

Edible mushrooms

Jason posted a photo about a mushroom they usually gather in the forest and eat. We also have chicken mushroom in our forests, but that is really rare over here. The video says it is found on dead logs and occassionally on alive trees. I, on the contrary have never seen this species but on standing and alive trees.

Here are some photos of those mushrooms we collect over here.

Here's the first. Sorry for the quality. It's called Liver mushroom in Hungarian, and it's Latin is Fistulina hepatica. The English name, Beefsteak Fungus is also a good name for this species. It makes a very good stew. (I'm sorry to note but the photo on Wiki is just horrendous.)

This photo below was made in 2004, when we collected quite a range of wild mushrooms in the nearby forest. The largest one in the basket is a Macrolepiota procera, or a Deer's shank Mushroom in Hungarian, but I'm sure everyone knows the Parasol Mushroom. Also pictured are some white Button mushrooms, and some Lepiota leucothies, the Smooth Parasol aka Woman on Motorcycle (isn't it the funniest name ever to a mushroom?). The Hungarians simply call it Stubble Mushroom. These species are excellent in soups, stews, stir-fries and go well with sauteéd potatoes as well. In the years 2006 and 2007, we have found a wonderful species growing right in our garden. It is called Giant puffball in Hungarian and English. I make a finger's width slices of it, cover them in flour, beaten eggs and breadcrumbs and deep-fry it in oil. Yummm.

Other fairly frequent mushrooms we collect include the Gray Funnel (Hungarian), Clytocibe/Lepista nebularis (Latin), and the Blue Funnel/Wood Blewit/Lepista nuda, the Judas's Ears Fungus / Hirneola auricula Judae. I use the latter, crispy mushroom in soups. the other two are great in stir fries or basically, with any sort of meal.

Yup, that's all I could come up with for a new entry. Your ever misoriented friend, SzélsőFa.

I have been around these days, only to find that there's nothing to write about. I am so out of thoughts and even, feelings. It scares me, or rather, it would scare me, if I had feelings.

I know it will pass and I find no particular reason to support my state of this...uhm...intellectual nirvana, well, other than the state of our house during this renovation/recontruction process, plus the beginning of another school year, plus the missing of my husband, who's away for a week to Italy. He's attending a conference and is about to see as much of Italy's landscape as anyone in the next cubicle in an office. Or almost. He called me yesterday evening to tell me that finally, he was able to take a look at the hills, from the outside of the conference building.

Up in the front there's this photo of a puffball mushroom we usually find in our forests, it's called Lycoperdon perlatum in Latin.

Wel, I would like to get your opinion, your solutions:

What do you do when you just have no words around to lean on? When nothing really seems to make you move?

Persons suggesting drugs and faraway places will be banned. Okay, just kidding here, but those would not work for me. I don't take drugs (those pills you know) and faraway places...well, if you had a chance to take a look at my bank account, you'd understand.

Last evening for example, me and my kids went hunting for horse chestnuts. It was a fun walk - or it surely would have been, had to the kids NOT teased each other constantly. The older one was teasing - the younger one was screaming. Also, said younger kid kept falling off her bicycle. Do you consider that inspiring? Dou you think I should go for another walk with those lovely kids again?

So, like...reading an interesting nonfiction book?

Watching some dvd?

Right now, I have started watching 'The Grapes of Wrath' with Henry Fonda, online.

So?

What are your soul-lutions? (typo intended)

Here's some music as well. It's from 1968. This was one of the band's first hits. 'Amikor én még kissrác voltam' means 'When I was a kid'. Basically the song is about what/how he felt as a kid. His life was different, there were open parks with flowers - yet he was afraid of bad-faced people who might have taken him away... He was not allowed to laugh when he was about to cry, to lie honestly... The chorus describes that when he was a young boy, he used to adore adults, watched their activities, used to believe that they were happy and that when he would become an adult, he would feel quite allright, too.

Take a really close look # 5

Welcome all -

I'm going to shed some light on question #4, which proved to be perhaps, the most difficult one in this mini-series. Take a look back at the original photo, if you wish...

There were 6 entries, 6 guesses.

Early suggestions said it was some sort of a rock formation.... Not a bad guess, it does look like one.

Fossilised and/or petrified was also among the ideas. Very clever notes, I think. The photo does resemble that.

Many of you have mentioned the words 'lichen', 'moss', which was rightly so.

And yet, only one of you made it.

We have a hesitant winner, who said the right answer 'definitely', only to withdraw a few words later to an 'I don't know'.

She also called it a tough one.

I'm glad it was a tough one.

She said it was a tree bark, and it really was. The cover of our walnut tree in our garden.

And the winner is...

BETH, again, for she won the second contest as well.

Introducing the walnut tree.

One has sometimes to take a closer look, bend his back, step off of his imaginary estrade and get comfortable with the mundane.. For one has to perceive order beyond ordinary and within simplicity, complexity ...

And here's time for the fifth, easy round.

What's this?

two years...

yes, I have done it. It's been two years in the blogosphere. (the exact date is August 30)

Thank you for all, who've been commenting, helping and guiding me in my way.

I recall my first anni...bloggiversary. I was intrigued by the newly coming wave of international visitors and their thoughtful and loving comments for the occassion overwhelmed me...

As the owner of this blog I reserve the right and luxury of looking back over the past two years, contemplating over its beauties and bad times as well... You are very much welcomed to join the ride - but consider yourself having been warned.

I have gone through a couple of things. It was an interesting journey. My son switched schools once and classes twice. I homeshooled him for half of a school year, and had some minor problems afterwards, too. Now he has started the fifth grade and is looking forward to it with a mixture of anxiety and interest. My daughter finished kindergarten and is starting her school years for the first time. My husband had an interesting idea about our marriage and relationship just a year ago, but fortunately, our marriage survived. What a funny idea he had, hee hee - I say now, but I was literally in tears for a couple of weeks (was it months?) when it was 'on'. We have still some more things to figure out, though.

And finally, but utmostly, this blog is about me.

I did change a lot. And by lot, I DO mean LOT.

I became more open to my intuitions, I let my creativity flow into directions I have not really wondered into in the past few years - it's like rekindling an old relationship. I started writing poem-like things and had other writings over this period as well. I even entered a writing contest - this is something I have not even dreamt about. I liked the experience I had within the group of writers and with the host of the contest as well - and I liked the experience I had within my very own self. I enjoyed the onset of inspiration, the outpour of words, the lovely struggle with the style...I'm not saying I have mastered anything. I am far from it. I don't even consider becoming a writer, or a poet, whatever.

I just write to pet my creativity, to master my feelings, to nurture my soul.

I have great helpers with useful and contructive advice along the path - for although the journey is mine, friends are special gems along the way.

Yet, there were/are moments when quitting blogging seems to be the only possible way ahead. I had a major problem with writing in English a few months ago.

I felt that writing English, composing my feelings in English is slowly turning the way I think English, too. This feeling detaches me from the culture I root in, from the sorroundings I live in... I felt detached, separated from my everyday life - but I do believe I have worked that out by now.

The solution was just as simple as most of the best solutions are: I read more Hungarian literature, I visit more of my friends, and yes, I spend less time blogging and thinking English. Whenever I write something in English that reflects my soul, anything that was inspired and poured out from within I translate it to Hungarian - and I re-write it to suit the language, too.

So, that problem seems to be gone now.
Bloggers I meet are very likely would become my friends anyway, had we meet in 'real' life. I used to think otherwise, but now I'm convinced that virtuality can NOT substitute reality. There were times when I thought I had friends, for I did have ones, virtual ones, so I said to myself, there was no need for 'real' ones. Now I know I was wrong and I'm working on a solution. Or rather, I should be working on a solution.

What I still have as a problem is not coming from me - it seems to come from blogging itself...or does it? You be the judge.
Here's my point:

Shallowness.

Almost all of the blogs I regularly visit are NOT superficial at all. They contain a very valueable material, poems, writing, thoughts, insights, inspirations. They are helpful in some way.
I know that a little light talk every now and then is just normal, and also I do visit some sites just for fun, like playing along...I'm not talking about these. Playing and having some idle talk is allright.

The troube is that whenever an issue is mentioned by the owner of the blog, whenever s/he writes his/her ideas about a thing, commenters leave 2-3 sentences, usually relevant and intelligent ones (!) and that's all.
Most of these themes worth more than that. I would love to see longer debates, lengthy posts and comments, comments and re-comments, real engagement, real talk. Deeper commitment to one special issue.

Don't get me wrong - varietas delectat, I know, I know.

Yet, what is this hustle for? Is it the need for more and more, new and newer?

Even if the theme is catching, inspiring, the owner feels the urge to move on to another?

What's your opinion?

a trip we made yesterday

update and thoughts on my 2nd bloggiversary (August 30) coming soon.

Sorry guys, school has started, my highschool friend is visiting us today...tonnes of works to do...

- perhaps on Tuesday, I will have the time to compile myself.

Until that comes, enjoy the photos I made yesterday.

Writing exercise by The Church Lady

The challenge was launched by Church Lady.

Here's my entry. This time the limit was set at 150 and the plot was about a dog that smells something awful/nasty and the reader should find out only at the end what's the reason for such a smell. I'm sorry if it hurts some of your delicate readers....it is based on real experience.

The day sprang peacefully; the Sun was emerging from the sea. I let Inky off the leash and contemplated the beach for a few minutes. I counted the flock of seagulls, caressed the tall grass with my eyes.

‘Inky!’ – My calling did not echo in the vast open space, it fell flat onto the sand.There she came, her ears flipping as she ran towards me.

‘Good girl’ I patted her.

I intended to stroll a bit more among the dunes, so I descended towards the beach. I wished to see the waves from really close. I like how they come out and go back again. I like the foam.

The dog was not coming and I called out again.Then I saw her and smelled her.

Oh, not again…

She was having her morning snack right at where I have been squatting.

Not again, you nasty dog.

Man, trapped in brick

he went for a twilight walk

under the orange moon

swaying delicately over the sky

with no clouds of whatever

reason can not tell how long has this plate

been watching the man as he was walking the dunes

up and down up and down

his feet got sandprickles between the toes

so he took off his sandals

and left in among the rounded shore hills

while keeping his chin up and watching up above

to the Moon, freshly full and triumphant

on the dark blue ceiling

here and there scattered with small lanterns

the stars hummed

the water splashed in his ear

as he was walking the trail of his heart

following the orbit that lead him to a house on the cliffs

his hands toouched rock his fingers claw

marks into the wall of his life

caught his body, his head

he lowered, comtemplated the outside

of which he no loonger was part of

he was within,

trapped

squeezed

out his breath

came out no more

to the breeze of the winds

coming down from the shore

carrying away the fear of motionless moments

he breathed in life

the heart stopped for long

m o t i o n l e s s

m o m e n t s

the water reached the shore and circled around a brick

he breathed out

the eyes were closing into themselves

s i l e n t l y

you can not beat simplicity

I have not written about food for a loooooong time. Now, it's time I got back to my stomach. Let me see if filling my stomach with some cinnamon I adore would ignite my brains...?
Anyhow, this is supposed to be the world's simplest oven-made cake. Oatmeal cookies.
Here's the recipe.
Ingredients for an average baking sheet:

300g oatflakes
6-8 Tbsp honey
6 Tbsp vegetable oil
100g walnut, finely chopped (optional)
1 liter of water
1 Tbsp ground cinnamon (can be added right away OR spread on top before putting the cake into the oven).

Preparation method:

Toss everything into a large bowl
Stir once or twice so that everything gets mixed
Let is rest for 30 minutes.
When time's up, heat the oven.

Baking:

Bake in a baking-paper covered sheet for about 30 minutes.
It is ready when it still has a little jelly-substance to it. Don't overdo it.
Bon appetit.
I bet you can't give me a recipe that is easier to make. Yet I hope you can, b/c this is actually the only cake I venture in these days (actually, it turned into weeks) of building chaos. Besides this oatmeal cookie, I make the bread we eat, but making bread has become sort of a hobby by now. If you follow the label 'recipes', you can check back to see how our daily bread is made.

on lions, chicken and mites

My husband overheard a conversation the other day. He was in an electric shop, when two men were having this little fantastic dialogue. I intentionally used distorted English to match their level of intelligence - hence are the strange words. This is one of my first time to play with grammar this way. Tell me if I was wrong in transforming the language.

----

Man1: Dude, there's a country in Africa, where lions walks upright, have clothes on and speak like we.

Man2: Nonsense. You telling me you believe it?

Man1. Curse I do. Av heard it over radio in the Jimmy and Johhny.

----

I think I am aware of the ultimate, inexhaustible, pure stupidity of mankind.

Yet each time I'm given a proof of it, I sigh. These people have just as much right to vote as I do. The sheer intelligence of this one single morning glory (below) outdoes the accumulated value of those of the people in the above conversation.

Well, chicken. As most of you probably know, we have a few chicken and we are renovating the house. Keeping animals is fun, educative for the children, relaxing to the tired, healthy for the body, lalala. Yet every now and then, diseases and pests might attack. I'd like to emphasize MIGHT. Can you imagine a time more suitable for an attack by chicken-mites than the middle of demolition? When we don't know which end of the track should we follow, when we spend almost all of our time breaking walls, cleaning and storing the bricks for further use, giving anti-fungus treatment to woods that will make the new ceiling, lalala...? We tried to kill those nasty bugs with burning a sulphur-band to no avial. They flooded the walls and laughed at our attemps in one of their many refuges. Finally we had to re-plaster the chicken house so as to deprive the mites from their hiding places. We re-furnished the inside of the house. We even made a new ladder (for chicks to sleep on). The fight against mites took 3 whole days and it's not yet oven. When all we have in the new part of the house is this:

Wish to come over for a breath of fresh air wouldn't you, hm? I think the English says: 'When it rains it pours'. We say 'Trouble has a company' - (literally it is 'trouble does not walk alone' - 'a baj nem jár egyedül')

During the mites' attack, we lost 2 baby chicken of the last hatching. Now there are only five. They are named: Gray Dino, Pancake, Gofri, Jumper and Floating island (the Turken one). I think the names request some explanation. Gray Dino has received its name after a character in a PC-game. Pancake is just so lovely and yellowish as a pancake, Gofri looks like Pancake, only it's legs are thinner, Jumper likes to jump and Floating island, well we all love the food and so do we the little buff Turken chick. In case you did not know, a Floating island is a delicious sweet food, and gofri resembles pancake. But I have already told you that above :)

Above are photos of a Floating Island and a Gofri and below, of the hen and her 5. When they graze outside, they seem to be present everywhere, but when it comes to photographing, they turn into a buddhist garden - you can never see each and every one of the bunch at the same time.

Allright, I'm back to work again...

spell peace

you don't have to search to find

love is there anyway

and when unexpected beauty advances

your soul is taken

you don't have to fight to accept

you are given

and when boundaries met

your body is taken

you don't have to die to live

within the smallest of things it is the biggest of all

and when tranquility comes along

your mind is taken

don't be afraid, child

petrified, the magic is lost

flowing, it keeps growing

be one and be all

an imaginary letter

Preface: this I wrote on 18th, revised, adjusted and supplied it with music and a self-made photo on 19th August. It was inspired by something that happened to me that day. If you care to read it and have constructive comments, suggestions as to the style, topic, whatever, please share it with me. I wrote this piece with love, but I'd also like to improve my writing style. Leave your comments in the comments section, or drop me an email. Thank you all!

Photo: 3 August 2007, by me.

My life, as it is now, ends today. Tomorrow I will be travelling through space to become someone else, like a spider, tumbling over the furrows of a lichen and moss-covered tree, or to become a tree with birds nesting amongst the braches, or I might become a man with machines.

I'm going away, but before I do, I'm taking a look back at my life. This is what we all do when the old goes away. Taking account to step over the barrier.

My birth was undisturbed, my coming into this world was welcomed. Although I had neither my father nor my mother beside me, those who surrounded me watched my growth with love and cared about my comfort. They kept talking about how small I was and how big I would become one day. They kept telling how very useful and great I would become. This I liked.

Years passed and I grew up in self-confidence. I was being loved and I loved the ones that loved me. I liked the smell of the meadow in the morning, around the house I lived near to, I adored the song of the birds in the evening and all the little insects around me in the garden.

I had friends to talk to. Whenever the wind came down from the little hillside, we gathered and kept talking endlessly.

Not only cared I for those who lived near me - as soon as I was able to peek above the fence I began watching those who were passing by. I watched them and sometimes, when they looked at me with respecting eyes, I smiled back. They usually did not notice my smile, perhaps I was too shy.

Later on, those who had cared about me died. I weeped for them as one weeps for his parents. I missed them, and I still do.

But soon, new ones came. One by one, they removed my friends. I was left alone.

Lately, these new ones have left too, and yet others came.

They have been with me in the past year or so - and the care and respect I gave meant nothing to them. They did not seemed to perceive. They neglected me, and when they thought I was not listening, have begun talking about me as unnecessary, as an obsticle.

I still had one friend, who lived, and still lives accross the street.

This is a farewell letter to her, because this very day, extremely noisy others arrived. They took off my head, shred my hair, tore off my fingers, ripped off my upper and lower arms. None of the pains I experienced during my life had been this painful. It was a torture and I suffered for long. With motionless faces, they split up my trunk. My heart, that they were unable to dig into, is still here as long as I compose this.

My heart weeps for the land I used to live in, for the sweet soil I used to taste, for the rainwater I used to drink. I can not breathe any more. Memories get mixed up with thoughts about the future.

My heart will soon stop, I feel that. Mutilated, detruncated, my parts lie scattered around me. My heart will stop and my soul will be rising. I'm leaving you now. God bless you.

Take a really close look #4

Hello everyone,

this is the fourth quiz in the series. I hope to present you with a more difficult question.

The third round of the what's-this-game was really, really easy.

There were 4 guesses, namely (in no particular order) by Em, Melly, Beth (who won the second game) and Wordnerd (thanks for dropping by!).

Everyone guessed it correctly, although Em (who won the first game) insisted on guessing for 'leaf' as well. I value his courage, but this time, it was simply a feather.

So, the winner is.... MELLY, who got the right answer FIRST. Thanks Melly, for taking part in this little game. And congratulations!!!

BTW, I do hope you all enjoy this. (Cause I do.)

And the 4th starts off right now : what is this?

I made this photo on 3 August, 2007.

UPDATE: if you wish to take a look at, or contribute to a very interesting debate on world culture, potential solutions, hate vs. love - don't miss Jason's latest post.

writing excercise

challenge proposed by The Church Lady over here.

My funny little entry is over here, right below:

Blue suedes

Finally I’m out of the shop. I love to see the world!

I was made made by a machine; I am not unique – yet anyone who looks at me likes me. The soft touch. The craftsmanship. I like to be beautiful. I am often called a beauty.

I was packed alone in a neat cardboard box. That was dark. Back in the factory, there were rumors about our destinations. Some said they’d go into a large shop, some’d have preferred a small, personal shop. For me, it was indifferent.

I was tried on a few times. I never knew how would it feel - that I would feel the smell of skin, the warmth, the tingling of veins, the small adjustments of muscle tone. Balance and imbalance. I was being walked in. I covered the distance: I carried a woman from one mirror to another, yet she was carrying me, too. It was the embrace of bodies.

Ladies kept coming in and going out. At first, I loved that almost anyone got a hook on me. These women adored me. I knew I would become a catcher. But with time I changed and I longed to become a keeper, too.

And I become one today. This lady was wearing a sparkling silvery band of metal on one of her left fingers. She lifted me up and smelled the blue and I knew she was mine and I was hers. And finally, I’m out of the shop. I’m with her. Forever.

********

The story ends here - but I won't let you go away without some music. The great KDLang's doing a country song written by Bruce Cockburn.

I'm still breathing

thanks for asking - I'm still breathing...tonnes of dust.

getting a life

I think I stopped being silently obsessive about something I have no access to. Thanks StrugglingWriter, Bernita and Jason, for their sympathy, encouragement, understanding and kind explanation and similar thoughts (S.W.)

I got so overly irritated and disturbed by the disillusionment I felt on Monday evening at a website I otherwise treat with respect and almost, adorement, that it affected my relationship with real-life people. Noone deserves it, neither does my relationship.

Allright, I am also troubled by the renovation of our house. Time has started to squeeze.

My life at the moment:

Currently I'm reading Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood.

Also I'm reading many blogs... :)

I'm writing, whenever I have time and inspiration, the short story I started in February.

As a paid job, I'm working on a translation of an essay on plant protection, it'as about 10 pages.

a small break

Dear All,

we have reached a phase in our home's reconstruction, where every moment counts.

We dismantle parts of the old house to let room for the new one. How interesting this concept is, isn't it?

It involves days of working, packing, unpacking, loading and unloading.

Lots of getting dirty, oily and tired. TIRED.

It will probably involve some days' absence on my part - with a due leave.

I will probably have time to check back once in a while, though.

I think will be back with winners' announcement on the 'what's this' contest' - until that, feel free to cast you guesses and tread 'the path' - poke up the archives, if that's what you feel like doing.

Take care, smile often ... and feel gratitude for the little things you have.

Update:

The writing contest has ended. None of the entries I liked made it into the winners and except one or two, those who did, ehm, were not my favourites. Never near to those I liked. I did have a hard time choosing my fives for the 'Readers' Choice award. My favourites were - in no particular order:

# 60

# 36

# 12

# 43

# 22

# 59

and also, I liked #45, #55, #69, #73, #66 and I could name like, five or six more that really captured my imagination. Most of those I picked as my favourites are peaceful, some of them are narrated by animals themselves. Some of them are about human relationships, some about natural elements, meditation, peaceful dying...all quiet and nice.

I like Jason's site b/c of similar reasons. His poems and photograhy are devoid of aggression, modern day technology, sick people, unnecessary nudity or harrassment of any kind. Clarity. Like the title itself suggests. Like a deep breath of night air after a humid day in the city. In short, I'm shocked. That's all.

To make things clear: I did take part, and my not winning has nothing to do with my rant. I am not a native speaker and my work is sometime lame, as someone pointed out, without further reasoning. If she's listening, she might add some, belated constructive comments...?

Again, my not winning is okay with me. Of course I don't write like native speakers. I took part, enjoyed it enormously, it really did inspire me all the way. I loved it and I will be always thankful for Jason and for the writing community.

It's the selection (both Jason's and readers') that puzzles me so.

If anyone is capable of giving me some explanation, other than 'you just would not understand', please shed some light into this darkness.

back

have I become unfaithful, wandering off
too far away?
or have I stayed all the while here, but
having let your voice and steps go beside?
having locked deep inside, admiring some else?
am I to perceive well that it was you all the time and ever again?
am I to give you a call?
am I the same or am I some else, who's looking for you again?
where I am?
for you are here and have never been elsewhere away....

when my fingers reach yours

I'm home

ascend

bend down if you wish to rise

reconnecting source

the trunk of the tree you travel on

the scent of pink you inhale

the rub on your fingertips

the dripping sound of earth on earth

blackened out you'll see the light

small as you are you reach the omnipresent

dissolved into pieces you're integrated

wrapped around

you crinkle within all

Take a really close look # 3

Dear all my existing (?!) and lurking visitors, this is the third time you are invited to play 'What's this' with me.

Last time we had a photo of something CHECK BACK to see the ORIGINAL PHOTO HERE.

We had as much as 9 players with 10 guesses. I was, as constantly am, amazed by the playfulness of the human race.

For most of you, including Em, the winner of the first game, the obvious answer was 'sponge'.

Unfortunately this is not the case.

I enjoyed the fantasy of the players who suggested ripped foam, two of you suggested bread of some sort - some specified the range to basil cornbread, even. One said it was scrambled eggs.

No, no, and no.

Only one answer came close enough.

Here's a photo of the same thing, seen from a bit further:

Correct answer: A piece of limestone.

Congratulations to Beth, who said 'porous rock' - which comes closest to reality.


Okay, move on.
Here comes our third picture. Same question. I do think it is really easy now.
A what?