Twas November 2nd and our tummies did rumble, When mum said: “I’ve got it! I’m making a crumble!” So she sautéed some apples And some blackberries of course With a small pinch of cinnamon In a syrupy sauce, Then she made golden crumble And spooned it on top, Then into the oven That crumble did pop And…
We scoffed the whole lot!
Melt 30g butter in a saucepan together with 30g Demerara Sugar until beginning to caramelise;
Add 300g of sliced apples (I used a fairly tart red variety called ‘Braeburn)’ and 1 punnet (approx 120g) blackberries – add a dash of cinnamon and sautee until tender;
In a separate bowl add 120g plain flour and 60g caster sugar. Lightly rub 60g cold butter into the flour and sugar mixture with fingertips until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs
Arrange sautéed fruit in an oven proof dish and spoon crumble mixture on top – add some porridge oats if liked for extra texture and a sprinkling of Demerara sugar
Bake in a preheated oven for 20 mins or golden and bubbling!
Summers end, Gone in a blaze of glory, As though the trees soaked up the last of the sun, Then, full-to-bursting Came twirling down, Lining the streets with ribbons of gold What a breathtaking sight to behold!
Season's change, In a never-ending-age-old story, Reminding us all that God knows what's best Adorning the holly hedge With a graceful ochre crown, And beautifying the streets around this old familiar town.
Crimson, vermillion How many? A million? Carpeting the forest floor, With leaves and treasures galore, How I adore This Autumn.
My WIP is an Upper Middle Grade story for girls – all about the challenge of change. The Main Character is a 13 year old girl called Beatrice Wild.
She’s a bookworm
She’s a blunderbus
And EVERYTHING in her life is changing
How will she survive a week at bible camp with a bunch of kids she doesn’t know, a blushing problem, a first crush and no BFF to talk to?
Here’s a little sneaky preview!
The weirdest and most AMAZING thing happened tonight.
Andy and Caroline cooked us hotdogs and seriously – a hotdog has NEVER tasted so good. I could have eaten five! I don’t know what’s the matter with me right now. I have the appetite of a pregnant Velociraptor.
Anyway, when we were in the hotdog queue, Olivia and me were just – you know – minding our own business, having a little chinwag, and Charlie Fisher and his friends were behind us, and they kept laughing and looking over at us.
Anyway, I tried to act all nonchalant as if I had no idea they even existed. Then when I went to squeeze ketchup on my hotdog, I sort of missed…
AND IT SPLURTED ALL OVER MY NEW WHITE HOODIE.
It’s official. I am a walking talking DISASTER.
Olivia giggled and I shrieked and then Caroline said, “Oh, you mucky pup! I’ve got some soapy water here. I can give it a wash if you like before the stain dries.”
And so, for a while, I was walking around in just my T-shirt as my hoodie was all sopping wet.
And then Charlie Fisher came strolling over and said: “Here – you can borrow mine. I’m boiling.”
AND HANDED ME HIS HOODIE!
I’m pretty sure my cheeks went as bright as a tomato. And when he’d walked away, Olivia squealed and said: “See? He DEFINITELY likes you!”
And I thought to myself ‘wait a minute, am I in some kind of Hallmark movie right now’?
I’M STILL IN SHOCK.
So, I got to wear Charlie Fisher’s hoodie. It smelt quite lovely of clean washing mixed with campfire smoke.
The course content is not only helpful, but wonderfully inspiring and at the end of every session, there is an exercise to try. The most recent was to read the classic ‘Jabberwocky’ by Lewis Carroll – writer of the Alice in Wonderland books – and use it as a basis for writing your own story or poem.
In case you haven’t read it, ‘Jabberwocky’ is a poem which intersperses plain English with totally nonsensical, made-up words resulting in a totally brilliant bit of balderdash which the reader can still understand!
For the sake of time, I decided to stick largely to the original text, but try to come up with my own nonsensical words in place of Carroll’s! And here is the result.
T’was flinkle, and the smurky glurg, Did chire and chunder in the floom, All boggy were the swampaleeze, And the qualm fligs downrume.
‘Beware the Gringlecrunch, my son, His knees go creak, his knuckles crack. Beware the Howling Jowl and run From terrifying Bladdersmack!’
He took his runsome sword in hand, Longtime the vexious foe he sought, So rested he by the Plickadee And stood a while in thought.
And as in flonder thought he stood The Gringlecrunch with breath most foul, Came hortling through the greeping wood Skarooming with a howl!
One two! One two! And through and through, The runsome blade went Bammleboff! He left it dead, and with its head He went marading off!
‘”And hast thou slain the Gringlecrunch? Come to my arms my lubbish lad, Oh vumshious night, Skooreeh! Skoorite! My heart is minsely glad.
T’was flinkle, and the smurky glurg, Did chire and chunder in the floom, All boggy were the swampaleeze, And the qualm fligs downrume.
I found this exercise heaps of fun, but also challenging. Believe it or not, it’s trickier than you might think to to come up with a word that sounds vaguely recognisable, whilst at the same time being utter nonsense – especially whilst sticking to a rhyming scheme.
So in honour of National Poetry Day, (which is tomorrow by the way) why not have a go at writing your own rendition of ‘Jabberwocky?’ I’d love to hear how you get on!
There once was a lad who did dare, Tease a red-head regarding her hair, How that lass got irate, On his head, smashed her slate, Then she dyed her hair green in despair.
Here’s a tribute to one of my favourite set of books (and films) growing up.
The Anne of Green Gables series, by Lucy Maud Montgomery, follows the childhood adventures of an extremely imaginative and chatty orphan girl, named Anne Shirley (that’s Anne spelt with an ‘e’ of course!) who comes to live – by way of a mistake – with straight-laced elderly siblings Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert.
I can’t help flying up on the wings of anticipation. It’s as glorious as soaring through a sunset. Almost pays for the thud!”
Interestingly, I watched the 1985 film adaptation, produced by Kevin Sullivan, before reading the books! And I’m pleased to say, this didn’t ruin the stories for me, but only made me want to read them even more!
I was absolutely spell-bound by the characters, the cinematography and the film-score, and got very quickly swept up into the wonderful world of Anne, her ‘bosom friend’ Diana Barry, Gilbert Blythe, and all the other characters from Avonlea.
As a fellow red-head, I too had been called Carrots a time or two! (And ‘Gingernut’ and ‘Duracell’). So I instantly empathised with Anne, and felt like something of a kindred spirit.. I also shared her love for reading, writing, poetry and flowers – and having a somewhat fanciful imagination!. Fortunately, though, I happened to be a lot less hot-headed! I’m not sure I would have had the guts to walk the ridge-pole of a roof if Josie Pie had ever dared me. And I’m pretty sure I would have forgiven the handsome Gilbert Blythe in a heart-beat if he’d called me Carrots.
I will never forgive Gilbert Blythe, Diana. The iron has entered my soul…
After watching the films, I raced out and bought the first few books, eager to find out more about the mishaps and antics of Anne, who was constantly ‘getting into scrapes,.’ a few of my favourites being:
Accidentally setting Diana drunk because she mistook Rachel Lynde’s redcurrant wine for Raspberry Cordial;
Getting rescued by Gilbert Blythe when she fell into the ‘Lake of Shining Waters’ after re-enacting a scene from Tennyson’s ‘Lady of Shallot’;
Falling into the mud after trying to prevent an errant cow from entering a crotchety neighbour’s field….
…to mention just a few….But you’ll have to read the books for yourself!
Isn’t it nice to think that tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet?”
I was delighted to discover that the stories took Anne into adulthood! As a kid there was nothing better than a book series, which followed a beloved cast of characters through all their ups and downs as they grew up.
Even as an adult, I still have the full set on my book case and occasionally re-read them. They are wonderfully comforting and a bit like old friends to me. My youngest daughter recently listened to an audio version of the first book at bedtime and she absolutely loved it – which just goes to show their enduring appeal. Admittedly, they are quite wordy compared to many children’s books nowadays, but they are wonderfully descriptive, especially about the natural beauty of Prince Edward Island, where the books are set. There are one or two sentences in them that really sing… and if you’re anything like me, you’ll find yourself reading them twice, because they’re just so lovely.
A September day on Prince Edward Island Hills, a crisp wind blowing up over the sand dunes from the sea; a long red road, winding through fields and woods…now basking in open sunshine between ribbons of Goldenrod and smoke blue Asters…
Photo by Beata Kamiu0144ska on Pexels.comPhoto by Sebastian Velandia on Pexels.comPhoto by Sebastian Velandia on Pexels.com
The stories are funny, quite poignant at times – and they have a wonderful wholesome feel about them.
I’m so glad I live in a world where there are Octobers. It would be terrible if we just skipped from September to November, wouldn’t it?
What books did you enjoy growing up? I’d love to hear from you in the comments section below.
You’d probably assume that one full-grown Labrador plus a litter of seven would be enough chaos for one family. But there is yet another Furball that resides in our house. Meet Moses, my daughter’s three-year-old Rag Doll Cat.
Moses and Amber are firm friends. But it wasn’t always this way.
When Moses first arrived on the scene (a sweet little innocent-looking kitty) he didn’t take too kindly to a large bouncy Labrador bounding over to him.
Whenever Amber came anywhere close, he would scarper up to the nearest available lofty surface, and snarl down at her with a hiss and a bat of his clawed paw.
Amber, big wuss that she is, thought Moses was terrifying. This feisty ball of fluff really gave her the collywobbles.
She would cower away in her crate and hide.
At least for a few weeks.
But over time, as Moses got more confident, Amber grew more confident about how to approach him. She learned that some friendships can’t be rushed. Respect is the key.
What a clever girl she was! Eventually, she began to edge closer. Softly. Slowly. Inch by inch. Until her gentle kindness began to win him over and she was able to give him a little sniff. Then give his ears a little motherly lick.
Then one magic day, something amazing happened. Moses clambered into Amber’s crate and snuggled up beside her! And from then on, they were firm friends!
So now, we wondered how Moses would respond to Amber’s pregnancy? Would he somehow sense that she was a mum-to-be? Would he show her (and the puppies) the same respect?
I am pleased to report that he did! Most of the time anyway…
Hopefully these pictures and videos will speak for themselves! And make you chuckle, just a bit!
Somehow, we always knew that Moses would end up being the weird uncle!
Hope you enjoyed this post! Join us next time for more puppy adventures!
On 10th December, 2024, Amber, our wonderful Fox Red Labrador, gave birth to a litter of seven – four boys & three girls. We kept one gorgeous pup, and named her Honey. These posts document this incredible experience.
There comes a point in every young pup’s life where he or she must venture outdoors for the first time.
That day came on 20th January. The pups had been suitably wormed and were growing more and more daring by the day. Their need for fun and adventure was becoming increasingly evident. There was a world outside the whelping box and these pups wanted out!
Some of them by now had even mastered the art of escaping over the top of the guardrails, much to our dismay at three o’clock in the morning!
The garden was in a state of dormancy – grey, dull, and in need of a spring-spruce up. But the pup’s didn’t seem to mind too much. They didn’t take much egging on – but tumbled out of the back door, bright-eyed, bushy tailed and eager to explore. Tails up, noses down, they sniffed and investigated every corner, crevice, and new item they could find.
We’d decided that the enclosed patio, right by the back door, would be the only part of the garden they were allowed in and so the rest had to be cordoned off somehow. The three steps and the low garden wall that lead up to our terraced lawn were suitably blocked with various plant pots and upturned buckets that acted as barricades. Even though our fences were pretty sound, there were a few breaches here and there. The thought of a precious pup disappearing through a gap in the fence didn’t bear thinking about!
We were also worried about what they might try to eat or lick or consume – including snails or plants or cross-contamination from foxes and cats. Of course, even after all our precautionary measures, they still had to go and lick the broom and the hosepipe and wriggle their way underneath the barbeque!
We were constantly pup-counting – making sure all seven collars were present and correct. Seven! Phew!
A scattering of balls and toys, rattles and squeakers were tipped out onto the patio, to try and keep these inquisitive pups entertained and contained.
The puppies scampered, waddled and romped around for a good ten minutes. It’s a well known fact that when a Labrador wags its tail, it’s whole back end seems to follow! This was the scene on that patio. Seven joyous pups having a whale of a time and doing what puppies do best – PLAY!
And once they had tasted this freedom, it became a daily event! The pup’s seemed to grow more agile and confident with every passing day.
Everything became a game – even the garden ladder became a Pup’s Agility Class.
There was certainly never a dull moment, with these seven rambunctious explorers!
We’d been forewarned. “Puppies don’t grow – they explode!”
Slightly dramatic, granted, but still, not a million miles from the truth!
A week’s growth!
With each passing week, the puppies seemed to be doubling in size. And energy. Gone were the quiet, mole-like creatures that rooted around for milk. Now the whelping box was jumping like a house party.
Every time the pups woke up (which happened every few hours), we were greeted by a pack of shrieking, whirling dervishes, demanding to be let loose.
One opened the whelping box gate at their own peril. Because the moment you did, a sea of billowing, tumbling fluff would come sweeping over the edge of that box, faster than a cork from a bottle. And then, you’d better be handy with the kitchen towel – as the pups were gradually figuring out that it was best not to do their business in the same place they slept!
The pups would explore for a bit, mainly trying to get into places they weren’t meant to be, and ultimately following Amber around like a little gaggle of geese. Actually – that’s putting it politely. Sometimes they’d even try to suckle while she was standing up!
It was then a chaotic race – trying to help Amber hot-foot it to the whelping box and lie down comfortably before the swarm descended on her! Sometimes she didn’t even make it that far. The feed would just take place any-old-where.
Amber proved to be the most patient and accommodating of mumma’ dogs, often voluntarily lying down to feed her babies with no coercion needed. But after a month of round the clock care, she was getting tired. And the pups were getting bigger – and more hungry! Their manners left much to be desired. They would tug and jostle one another and literally clamber all over her!
It was time to start weaning. Kibble is like a cereal for dogs. Biscuity-pellets that can be softened in hot water and then mashed to a gruel-like pulp. We prepared the first batch in a communal circular feeding tray.
The kibble seemed to take forever to soften. Emily was appointed chief masher. It was pretty hard work. That was before Nathan decided to try whizzing it up in the Nutri Bullet. Enough to put you off smoothies forever. Then the fun started. We set up a little feeding station in the kitchen, and brought in the puppies two by two, beginning by feeding them from a teaspoon.
Some of them took to it quickly. Others needed more persuasion. But it was a start at least.
The Newspaper Caper
A few days into this new phase – we had a new problem to solve. With the increase in food, there was an increase in…well…poop.
We were constantly clearing up little puddles and deposits! And going through packets of puppy pads like there was no tomorrow.
My thrifty husband began doing the sums. “Do you know, we’re practically going through a whole pack of puppy pads per day!” he groaned. “Can you stop changing them as much?”
“Well…not really.” we said.
He found the biggest, cheapest bundle of puppy pads on Amazon. They were gone within 2-3 days.
“This is crazy!” Nathan said calculating the potential price per month in puppy pads.
That afternoon, he came back from the local supermarket with a very proud look on his face and a bundle of local newspapers under his arm.
“Got these for free!” he said. “No more puppy pads!”
Suddenly, our lounge resembled a fish ‘n’ chip shop. The pups were let loose. The newspaper, which had absolutely no grip whatsoever, went skidaddling everywhere. The pups grabbed it in their mouths and dragged it around. It was mayhem!
The multi-coloured ink seemed to act as a slight veneer, which meant that any puddles took a while to be absorbed. If you tried to clear up immediately, the puddle would run down your arm!
“Uuugh! This is gross!” I cried.
The ink also seemed to be getting onto everything and disguised any deposits, making them harder to spot. In short, this was a low point!
We argued back and forth about this for a few hours. It was clear we needed to find a cost-effective solution.
Fortunately, we soon discovered a compromise. Washable fabric puppy pads! Phew! What a life saver! I purchased two sets of three, washing one pack every day and then rotating them! Bingo. Crisis averted.
Accommodating a litter of puppies in a family home is certainly an interesting experience, that’s for sure!
Hope you enjoyed this post! Find out about our next challenge (Help, we need a bigger pen!) in the next post!
Somewhere between week two and week three, the magic happened.
The puppies’ eyes began to open – changing from small stitched-together slits to inky pools of personality. The transformation was gradual, but as profound as if each pup was suddenly coming to life – becoming a real pup! Eyes really are the windows to the soul.
With the awakening of this new sense, came an increasing independence. Suddenly, these pups were noticing us. (By the way, being noticed by a puppy is a most endearing experience). And actually noticing there was a world beyond the whelping box. And it wasn’t long before their tottering legs began to follow.
First they would edge to the front of the box and squeal like a flock of seagulls. Then, if the gate was open, they learned to sort of dangle over the edge and then belly-flop out.
At first, their wobbly legs prevented them from getting anywhere too fast. Their eyes were still widening and getting used to focusing.
But that stage didn’t last for long. Soon, every nook and cranny in the lounge became a new place to explore. Or wee in.
Nathan often bemoans the amount of cushions that we have in our house (buying new cushions is the next best thing to redecorating, in my book) – but let it be said here, that those superfluous cushions were about to become jolly handy. Suddenly, they were blockades. The perfect ‘scrunchable’ tool for stuffing into any puppy-sized holes that were out of bounds. Like underneath the armchairs. Or down the side of the bookcase. Or over by the plug sockets.
By this time, each of the puppies had a forever home too. It was a bit like a jigsaw puzzle. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but somehow, each new home seemed to be the perfect match.
Playful Holly, with her peachy hue, was going to a wonderful, family with two young boys and a baby on the way!
Red collar – Holly
Handsome Ralph, with his smart coffee-coloured collar, would be going to live by the sea with his sweet, doting pup-parents.
Brown Collar – Ralph
Cute little Lottie, our smallest darkest girl, (aka Sassy P) was going to a lovely family of Labrador lovers, to grow up with 11-yr-old twin girls.
Pink Collar – Lottie
Sweet, comical Steve, with his Andrex Pup Face, was going to a fun-loving family with three growing children. They had recently lost a beloved Labrador.
Blue Collar – Steve (official name tbc)
Cuddly, chilled out Leo was going to live with an incredibly calm lady who was looking for a hiking buddy.
Green Collar – Leo (official name tbc)
And adorable Rudi, our smallest, darkest boy was going to a wonderful couple who had recently lost a 17 year-old family dog.
Purple Collar – Rudi
Which left one sweet, teddy-bear faced girl for us to keep!
Meet Honey!
Lime Green Collar…Honey! Sweeter than mum’s apple pie! Teddy-face Honey, (top)
But there was still a lot of growing to do before they would be ready to venture off into the big wide world….
Until then, enjoy a video of Steve, auditioning for the cutest pup in the world awards.
We all took a deep breath as the advertisement went live. Homes wanted for six adorable pups. (Six, not seven, because we were still debating whether or not to keep a girl).
“What happens if we don’t sell them all?” Nathan said, a look of mild panic on his face.
“What happens if we do?” I said – cuddling one of them close. “How on earth are we going to say goodbye to these little guys?”
“Trust me – in eight weeks time, when they’re doing their business all over the place, you won’t be saying that!” Nathan chuckled.
I couldn’t imagine ever being tired of them. They were growing more adorable by the day.
By the end of week one, they had doubled in size (and cuteness), their features becoming increasingly more pup-like.
They still behaved in a mole-like manner, guided predominantly by their sense of smell. They were remarkably determined though, and had developed some stealthy ways of getting to mum for a feed, including burrowing beneath their litter-mates to get to the teats on the underside of her belly.
When full up with milk, they would often roll down mum’s sloping stomach, as though drunk, which was very amusing to watch. Who needs Christmas TV when you have a box full of pups to keep you entertained?
Enjoy this snippet of the pups feeding
Apart from the sleepless nights, the workload during those first two weeks was relatively straightforward. Amber was the real hero- feeding her hungry brood every two hours or so. We were mostly needed to keep an eye on things, and provide a pair of helping hands when Amber needed them. We were the night watchmen- keeping tabs on the whereabouts of all the pups and helping Amber in and out of the whelping box, making sure she didn’t accidentally step on any of the pups during her route in and out.
Caring for Amber was a top priority. Her voracious appetite was back with a vengeance. With seven hungry pups to feed, it was hardly surprising. It was also imperative to make sure she had sufficient time out of the whelping box, just to rest. Our normal ‘no sofa’ rule had suddenly gone right out of the window!
Daily duties also included keeping the whelping box and bedding as clean as possible. The constant rumbling of the washing machine became the soundtrack of our Christmas!
In some ways, this monumental disruption to our lives had come at the perfect time. We all had over two weeks annual leave. We had nowhere particular to be. There was an abundance of Christmas films to watch on TV and a fridge filled with leftover Turkey and other Christmas fair , which seemed to cater perfectly for our strange lack of routine. Rather than cause added complication to our Christmas, the pups forced us to slow down and fall into a simpler existence, a benefit none of us had anticipated.
And then, the enquiries began to trickle in, slowly at first, then increasing to a steady stream. Our daughter Grace was appointed Director of Enquiries . And an excellent job she did too.
And my worries about saying goodbye to the pups were quickly allayed …Reading messages from families who had recently lost beloved dogs; or sweet young couples who lived by the sea; or a hiking enthusiast, looking for a loyal, loving companion to walk with, began a shift in my thinking. Suddenly I felt as though I were part of something of immense value- helping to bring into the world not just a wonderful pet, but a friend. Suddenly it wasn’t such a bittersweet task – it was a wonderful privilege.
And by the beginning of week three, just as the puppies’ eyes were beginning to slowly blink open, we had six wonderful new homes lined up for each and every one of the pups. And life with seven pups that were now waddling about, was about to get even more interesting!
Leo- first pup to be photographed eyes open!
Hope you enjoyed this post. Join me next week for more of our puppy adventures and find out what happened when the pups started venturing out of the whelping box!
A year ago, I took part in an online writing competition called ‘#50PreciousWords’, hosted by the wonderful children’s writer, Vivian Kirkfield. The rules of the contest sounded relatively simple, but were actually pretty tricky to carry out: Write a complete story with a beginning, middle and end in 50 words or under. The point of the exercise was learning to make every word count – no wasted words allowed!
I was delighted to receive an honourable mention for my entry, entitled: ‘The Busy Blackbird’, which I managed to whittle down to 49 words! Phew!
I hope you enjoy it!
Stuck in bed, With a broken leg. Lonely. Bored. Then, I saw her, A bird! Flitting, Flapping, Food in her beak, Feeding her nestlings For over two weeks. Tireless provider, I watched her with wonder, ‘Till the time came to fly, For the fledglings and I,
In just under two weeks time, on 12th May, it’s National Limerick Day, where people post their favourite Limericks on Social Media, under the hashtag: #NationalLimerickDay!
Why May 12th? It was the birthday of the English Poet, Edward Lear, who was the king of limericks, making them popular in the early 1800’s.
A limerick? What’s a Limerick? I hear you ask. How do I write one? And why should I bother?.
And here is my answer!
It’s fun to sit down with a brew, And come up with a limerick, or two, It’s a juggle of thoughts, A word-puzzle of sorts, It’s a word-nerdy thing you can do!
Hahaha! A slightly silly response, granted. But here’s my logic: The very best way to learn how to write a Limerick is by reading them!
But just to be clear, here are a few features of the Limerick:
Limericks are humerous, rhyming, five-line poems, with the pattern: AABBA
They often tell a little anecdote or story – which makes them really fun to write.
Like this:
There once was a kitty so smart, Stealing food was his devious art, He would pilfer your chicken, Next your ham, he’d be nickin’ Why, he’d even come back for your tart!
Our pets seem to feature quite regularly in my limericks – but, honestly, you can write a limerick about pretty much anything.
It could be educational:
Seeds are remarkable things, Some have spikes, some rotate, some have wings, Dandelion is cute, With its seed parachute 🪂 But the best one of all sorta' PINGS!
- you could even write a limerick about…writing limericks!
Writing lim'ricks is tricky, but fun, Make sure lines five and two rhyme with one, Add a killer last line, (If it helps, drink some wine!) Don't give up, you'll be glad when it's done!
So what are you waiting for? You've got just under two weeks to get scribbling!
Here are some tips to get you started!
Pick one subject to write about- it could be your pet, a silly situation, a favourite film or book or even about yourself;
Try and nail your last line early on – this is the line that ties everything together, and if done well, really gets the giggles;
Remember, lines one, two and five all have to rhyme – so pick a common sound for your word-ending. Be creative with it! In some instances, forced rhyme can work quite well! (See last line of the second example below)
If you’re stuck, try to avoid abandoning your subject idea altogether. Instead, walk away for a bit. There are more ways than one to say something. Limericks are like a puzzle. Often the answer comes when you’re busy doing something else, like walking the dog, or doing the washing up.
A rhyming thesaurus can be really useful for those word endings, especially if you’re missing a beat or syllable
Oh, a rhyming thesaurus is grand, It can help when your limericks are bland, It can give you word power At the e-leventh hour, With names like: Pituitary Gland
There once was a cute little kitty, Who would sit around looking so pretty, But this act was a lie, He was really a spy, No you should not believe cats one bitty.
Moses, looking like butter wouldn’t melt…
I hope this post has inspired you and that you’re running for your notebook and pencil as we speak! Perhaps you’ll be brave enough to post them on #NationalLimerickDay!
I love taking part in poetry events and online initiatives. One of these is #HaikuSaturday.
What’s a Haiku, you may well ask?
Well…it’s not a sneeze!
But it is a very short poem that follows these three rules:
A haiku consists of three lines (which don’t generally rhyme);
A haiku consists of (no more than) 17 syllables;
A haiku captures a brief, vivid moment or observation, or sudden realisation , often related to nature. The aim of a haiku is to say something big, profound, powerful or evocative, using only a few words.
If you’re new to writing Haiku – try starting with the 5-7-5 sequence:
5 syllables in line one
7 syllables in line two
5 syllables in line three
Like this:
God is a painter, The skies are His canvasses, Glory on display!
The whole poem should be about ONE thing. One moment. One observation. One striking thought or idea.
After the deluge, Rock pools flooded with bounty, Treasures in the storm
Now it’s Your Turn!
Here’s three reasons why you should try writing a Haiku today:
Haiku are a great way of celebrating those wonderful fleeting moments in nature, encouraging you to really stop, look and listen! I love the saying: – “you should spend one hour every day in nature. Except if you’re busy. Then you should spend two.”
Fed up with the Crossword? Haiku are a great way to exercise your brain, hone your word-skill and practice getting your thoughts on paper – and there’s no right or wrong way to write a haiku;
You know all those photos that are just hanging around on your phone? Why not use them as inspiration for a Haiku? And if you’re a writer or blogger, you’ll even have something fresh to post!
And most of all, Haiku are a great way to experiment with phrases, forget about trying to rhyme and just have fun with words! (see, that’s four reasons! Now go on – grab your note-book and pen!)
Magnificent tree, How many winters have you Stood against the wind?
If you’re new to writing poetry, why not jump on board today? You could even post your Haiku in the comments section below ! I’d love to read them!
There was no denying it, Amber, was acting strange.
“I think she’s close!” I said, googling the tell-tale signs of a pregnant dog, about to give birth.
Off her food? – Tick
Unsettled? – Up and down like a yo-yo!
Panting – Intermittently
Nesting – Obsessively
Clingy? – Like Velcro!
“But she’s still got five days to go!” objected Nathan, “It won’t happen just yet – surely?”
All the same, I slept downstairs on the sofa that night, just in case. All through the night, I kept a keen eye on Amber, curled up in the whelping box that we’d just managed to assemble in the nick of time. I don’t know who was more restless – Amber or I?
The next morning, just as I was about to go grocery shopping, at around 8:45am, I noticed a mucus-stained puddle on the lounge floor. Amber’s water’s had broken.
It just happened to be a Tuesday. My day off. Thank you Lord!
I went and collected our youngest from school – there was no way she could miss this! There are some lessons in life that simply can’t be learned at school.
As circumstance would have it, our two eldest daughters were also able to be present. It was five days earlier than expected – but it felt like the planets had aligned.
At 9:55am, the first puppy appeared, it’s tiny little mouth gaping open and shut, as it drew in its first few breaths in the outside world.
We’d seen YouTube videos of live births, and read up on every detail – from counting placentas, to cutting cords. We had all the equipment ready. The clamp. The surgical scissors. A pile of towels . A weighing scale. Even a heat lamp akin to those you see in a chicken coop! But up to now, it had all been theory. Now – this was it! Without any dress rehearsal, we suddenly had to rise to the occasion. There were no official Vetinary Surgeons present. Just us. My husband, our three daughters and me.
And of course, our star girl – Amber! This was her first time too. Nobody had briefed her on what to do. She hadn’t watched any videos. But instinctively, she knew. Licking, nudging, feeding – such a clever Mumma!
The first three pups came fairly quickly. And so we soon found our stride too. We all assumed different roles at different times. One of us clamping, another cutting the cord, one of us weighing, the other recording the details, such as gender, weight and time of delivery and assigning each pup a little colour-coded temporary collar. It was all hands on deck. It was mucky, raw, earthy. It was one of the most vivid and incredible experiences we’ve ever shared. Nothing can quite prepare you for the sight of that first pup in it’s sac – and for the sounds and the earthy smell of new life.
Fortunately, there was a gap of around 90 minutes between the birth of pups number three and four and so we were able to stop for a well-earned cuppa! I’m sure Amber needed a breather too!
And by four o’clock that afternoon – there were seven! Three girls and four boys, eyes and ears as yet unopen, rooting around like little moles – and squeaking!
We weren’t supposed to name them – (we mustn’t get too attached) – but of course, it felt clunky and impersonal, referring to them as a colour. So an off the cuff ‘nick-name’ was assigned as soon as each puppy was born. Steve, James, Rosette (Rosie for short), Holly, Leo, Sadie and Ralph.
We spent the evening happily helping them latch on, marveling at the seven little heads and tails suckling all in a row. By now, their fur had gone from newborn-slime to buffed velvet!
Amber seemed relaxed and settled – sleeping softly while her babies suckled.
We positioned a single mattress next to the whelping box and took turns on nightly puppy-patrol. It was 10th December. Instead of a Christmas Tree, we had a box full of puppies to marvel at. We sensed that we were in for an unusual Christmas.
And little did we know that the fun had only just begun!
(Hope you enjoyed this post! Look out for the next instalment, coming very soon!)
I draw round a glass Then cut out the circle Fold it three times Til it looks like a cone, Then comes the tricky bit, Ever so carefully, Snippety-snip round the edges I go! Cutting out ovals And tiny white triangles, Tumbling down to the table Like snow And now for the magic, Unfolding the paper, Quite how it happens I really don't know SNOWFLAKE!
I wrote this poem for a Valentine’s Poetry Competition, hosted by The Little Thoughts Press back in February. The brief was to write a silly sonnet about something you really love! Mine was based on Shakespeare’s Sonnet Number 30
I didn’t win the overall prize, but was delighted to be voted Kid’s Choice Winner!
THE WORLD'S BEST DOG
My puppy's eyes are nothing like the sun, His ears , they stick up like a sail, His paws get so muddy whenever he runs, That he's constantly leaving a trail.
I've seen clever puppies that jump and roll over, But my dog would rather chase sticks, And as for his breath, well it smells like a drain, And he's constantly giving me licks!
He isn't too likely to win any prizes, For hounds who are handsome and smart, But so loyal a friend, you never did meet, And he holds the first place in my heart.
Three cheers for my dog- so loyal and true, Who shreds up your slippers and runs off with your shoe!
Why don’t you have a go at writing a silly sonnet?
Being a dog owner, sometimes means dragging yourself out on a Saturday, when you’re feeling a tad lazy. Amber, our Labrador, NEVER feels like this. Even the mere mention of the ‘W-A-L-K’ word sends her whizzing around the kitchen like a spinning-top. It’s such a blessing to have an enthusiastic dog to drag me out of that front door, reminding me to lay aside my busy-ness for a fraction of the day – and just be! It can be hard to get going at times. There are often a-hundred-and-one things I feel I ought to be doing instead, but I never ever regret it! And sometimes it even leads to little poems – like this one.
WOODLAND WALK
The wildness of the wood, It always does me good. The dappled light, The green, The gold that slips between, The fresh and earthy smell, The feeling all is well.
A calmness in my mind, As aching limbs unwind, Enveloped in the green, No chores, no crowds, no screen. A pause within my day, A chance to think and pray.
Away from city rush, A place that whispers: 'hush! It's good to stroll and talk." This wondrous woodland walk.
An hour of toil in the garden,
Is always time well-spent
Tugging out those stubborn old weeds,
Which year upon year won't relent.
An hour spent tending the garden,
Is never wasted time,
Lungs full of wonderful sweet, Spring air,
Hands caked in dirt and grime.
It's hard to feel glum in the garden,
With birds chirping high in the trees,
Potting up Pansies, so cheery and bright,
Hair tugged about by the breeze.
Cutting the deadwood, turning the earth,
Allowing the sun to shine through,
Seems to clear my cluttered mind,
And lifts my spirits too.
Thank you dear Lord for my garden,
Humble and small though it be,
It's a place where so often I've felt You are near,
And Your joy surrounding me.
Once You knelt down in a garden,
And in terrible anguish You cried,
"Thy will, not Mine, be done O Lord!"
Abandoned. Betrayed. Denied.
One Sunday morn, in a garden,
You rose up again from the grave,
Bringing salvation and mercy and grace,
To the ones You came to save!
Dear Weather Depot I’m writing to say, It seems you’ve forgotten, It's just two weeks 'til May. I’m not one for complaining, But I’m wondering why All this rain keeps on raining, And grey clouds fill the sky? I’m still wearing a hat, And my gloves and my coat, This is not satisfactory, (Hence my slightly brusque note!) Did Spring lose its zing? Has it really begun? Is it lost in the post? Has its spring-thing not sprung? And I do beg your pardon, But I haven’t yet sat, On the bench in my garden, (I’ve looked forward to that) So please could you check, In your weather-book thingy, And please make this spring Just a little more ‘springy!’
A few days ago, my family and I visited Dove Cottage, the home of William Wordsworth, one of England’s best-loved Romantic Poets.
Dove Cottage, Grasmere.
Wordsworth and his sister Dorothy, moved into the cottage, situated just outside the lovely village of Grasmere when he was 29 years old. This was a dream fulfilled for the poet, after losing both of his parents by the age of 13, and being separated from his beloved sister during a period of his youth. At last, he and Dorothy were home again.
Plain Living & High Thinking
The Wordsworth’s lived a relatively simple life, cultivated a garden and drank in the detail of the flower and fauna all around them. Their motto was ‘plain living and high thinking.’
The Hillside Garden behind the Cottage
William and Dorothy immersed themselves in the beauty of their surroundings and William devoted his time and energy to writing poems, many of which capture vivid descriptions of childhood moments or the natural beauty he observed around him.
Come forth into the light of things, let nature be your teacher
W.W
Spots of Time
Ice-Skating!
One of our favourite discoveries at the museum was a poem about an exhilarating childhood memory of William’s, where a few days before Christmas, he went ice-skating on Esthwaite Water, near the village of Hawkshead, where he went to school.
Inspired by Nature
Grasmere sits in the midst of the Lake District National Park, Cumbria, an area rich in rugged fells, deep valleys, shimmering lakes, bubbling rivers running under stone bridges, a wild coast-line and an abundance of breathtaking scenery.
Many of William’s poems are about specific places, sights and experiences in around the Lake District, including ‘Storm on Coniston Water’, which is photographed below, and ‘A Summer Day at Windermere’, (second photo below).
The incredibly serene Lake ConistonLake Windermere – England’s largest freshwater Lake, is over 10.5 miles long.It seemed somehow apt that we should spot a robin, lingering on the gate-post of the Wordsworth Cottage
Dorothy’s Journals
Dorothy, like her brother, had a deep love of nature and kept a journal which documents the happy time they spent at Dove Cottage. Many of her diary entries connect with poems written by her brother, such as this extract about a swathe of wild daffodils.
It’s easy to get a sense when walking around the cottage, the garden and the village of Grasmere of the way William and Dorothy would have walked and talked together, marveling over the beauty all around them, and eagerly comparing notes on their observations,
It was delightful to walk into Grasmere and know that William and Dorothy had trodden those very streets, gazed at the same ancient hills, and attended the old church, where we discovered their humble gravestones a short walk away! It was an incredibly moving and inspiring experience!
St Oswald’s Church, in Grasmere.The graves of William, his wife Mary & sister Dorothy, discovered in the churchyard
To Live and Do Good
It was wonderful also to note Wordsworth’s desire to write words that ‘live and do good’ – and to feel that connection with his ideals as a writer. I came away hugely moved to think that a poet who lived and wrote over 200 years ago carried the same lasting values in his heart as I do, and longed to use his words to spread joy, consolation and goodness to those around him.
If you are interested in reading more of William Wordsworth’s wonderful poetry and finding out more about the spectacular Lake District, I wholeheartedly recommend purchasing a copy of this beautiful illustrated collection, entitled: “The Golden Store.’ which I purchased at the Museum’s bookshop. It is a keepsake that I will always treasure, and enjoy dipping into again and again.
It’s been a dreadfully slow year in terms of my writing progress! Lots of reasons really. For starters, I’ve been extra busy with my day job, (which has left me a bit deplete of time and energy) plus, one of the recent projects I’ve been involved with has been put on hold, for reasons out of my control.
BUT!
POETRY!
The one thing that I’ve managed to keep doing is penning the odd poem here and there!
I find poems so refreshing to write, as they are fun and playful, sometimes wistful or meaningful – and they often just spring from spontaneous thoughts.
The Social Media platform formerly known as Twitter, has a superb poetry community – and it was here that I first learned about a wonderful new literary journal for children, called www.thetoypress.com . Do check it out – it is seriously lovely!
When I found out that submissions were open for their fourth edition, which was going to be all about nature – I jumped at the chance. I LOVE writing about God’s wonderful world, and the amazing things that are all around us, as long as we remember to just slow down and look!
I was thrilled to discover, one Monday afternoon, that two of my poems had been accepted for publication and it was a joy to receive my Contributor’s Copy over the weekend. I was also delighted to have one of my poems paired with a gorgeous illustration by Leila Enevoldsen. As an aspiring Picture Book writer, this is such a treat! I’ve always longed to have something I’ve written illustrated.
Anyway…here’s a little sneak peek! I really hope you enjoy it.
Thank you so much for visiting this blog and supporting me on my writing journey- I really do appreciate each and every reader!
There once was a sweet, little Kitty,
Who would sit around looking so pretty,
But this act was a lie,
He was really a Spy,
No, you should not believe cats one bitty!
There once was an unlucky baker,
Who forgot to put flour in her cake-ah!
"What a mess!" came her cries,
When that cake did not rise,
"Oh this cake is a big old mistake-a!"
There once was a dog who did run,
Through a sludgy, wet puddle for fun,
But she soon ceased to laugh,
When her dad shouted: "Bath!"
Now her fun was all over and done!
As an Early Years Practitioner, there are a few classic Picture Books that never fail to enthrall and delight the children I look after.
These stories are often about very ordinary things, (a little girl and her mummy having tea at the dinner table) coupled with an added twist, such as a tiger knocking on the door and inviting himself in…
One such story is Michael Rosen and Helen Obxenbury’s ‘We’re Going on a Bear Hunt’ – the story of a simple family stroll, on a beautiful day.
The twist is, that as the children are walking along, they pretend that they are off to find a Bear! They’re going on a Bear Hunt. They’re going to catch a BIG one!
As their walk continues, they meet LOTS of different obstacles along the way, such as:
A deep, cold river
Thick, oozy mud
and a swirling, whirling snowstorm
Because everybody knows, that every good story must contain OBSTACLES!
And anyone that has read the story will remember the repeated refrain:
We can't go over it.
We can't go under it.
Oh no! We've got to go through it!
It struck me this morning, as I was reading the story for the gazillionth time, that a writer’s journey is very much like this…
As we attempt to write our stories, to dream up vivid characters, to create a solid story arc, to nail the perfect ending, to hook our reader from the very beginning – we come against MANY obstacles along the way.
It can be so hard to keep going when we feel stuck in the thick oozy mud, lost in a whirling snowstorm and totally unable to cross the deep cold river (or face editing that manuscript!)
We journey on, through the ups and downs. We finish our stories. We do our best to query agents, to enter competitions, to send our stories out there.. only to be faced with knock-backs, closed doors and rejection letters. It can feel like an endless journey fraught with obstacle after obstacle, set-back after set-back.
But something within us keeps us going… The sense of adventure keeps calling us onward. The beauty of the journey – the high-point of connecting with one reader – helps us get back up again. The thought that the journey is leading us ‘to catch a big one’ – keeps us pressing on…
The thought that we are doing all we can to use our gift for the glory of God, makes it all worthwhile.
And we know instinctively that there are absolutely no shortcuts. There are no easy routes through. We know, along with all other writers, that:
We can’t go over it. We can’t go under it. Oh no! We’ve got to go through it!
So, at the start of 2022, let’s keep pressing forward. Let’s seize the day. Let’s pull our coats ever tighter around us and brace the wind, the rain, the snow! Let’s say together: “We’re not scared!” and enjoy this beautiful day, this beautiful opportunity that we’ve been given! Let’s enjoy the journey! You never know, we might even discover a bear at the end of it!
Angela Jelf 