Photo-Finish Friday --Evening In Luxor

 

At the temple in Luxor.

Tuesday Tales -Thindelina

Thindelina, or The Three Swans

It was once there were three sisters. The youngest was Thindelina and she bore the brunt of her sisters' cruelty and bad temper.

She was a lovely girl with a most pleasant disposition. She got along with everyone. This upset her sisters, especially the oldest one, greatly.

The oldest sister, Wrenda, thought it a great joke to scare Thindelina and make her cry. She did it almost every day.

"Thindy! Thindy! Carried off by the windy! Never seen again-dy!" And she laughed and laughed at the thought of the young girl being carried away forever.

The middle sister liked to get along with everyone, but found it trying. Because it was important to get along with Wrenda most of all, she joined in the cruelty and tormented her baby sister for fun.

One day Thindelina ran way to cry by herself underneath a great oak tree in the centre of forest. She sat down between its great gnarled roots and leaned back against the thick rough bark of the venerable tree's trunk.

An elf, disturbed by her crying, popped out of hole at the oak's base.

"Stop making that infernal racket," the elf demanded. "Can't you see I need my sleep?"

The girl sniffed hard and rubbed her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to harm your sleep."

"Never mind. Never mind." said the elf hopping about on one foot. "At least my foot's still sleeping."

He stopped hopping and began stomping. "Wake up. Wake up you silly thing." And he stomped and stomped until he wore a path in the moss.

"Now see what I've done. What I'd done do you see? A path in the moss from disturbing my sleep."

Thindelina rubbed her eyes some more and sniffed a few more times.

"Well, what've you got to say for yourself? Say anything for yourself, have you?"

"No." She didn't know what else to say. She'd already apologized. She'd learned if you had nothing to say you should get about not saying it.

"Not surprising. Not at all. Dull as a child we say," he glared up fixing his gaze on her eyes.

He threw himself on the ground in front of her. "Why do you come to my tree? Do you want something from me?"

The girl told the elf why she was at his tree and apologized once again for good measure.

"That's good. That's good. You've got some manners for a child, and a human one at that. You've awakened most of me from a sound sleep and I'd like to get back to it. What do you need to leave?"

She didn't understand what the little green fellow meant and said so.

He picked up an acorn shell and balanced it on his head.

"What do you mean what do I mean? Are you silly as well as dull? Put an acorn on your head. Then you'll understand."

She did as the elf said, but the small shell got lost in her thick blond curls.

"What to do with you? The girl can't wear an acorn shell without losing it. There's no reasoning with you. None at all. Do you need me to give you a present so you'll leave?"

Thindelina felt more lost with the conversation that she'd ever felt at the cruel hands of her sisters. She decided to not think about the question. It was too confusing. Instead she said, "Yes."

"Now we're going somewhere. Going somewhere finally," said the elf.

He jumped up on one of the oak roots and shook a finger at her.

"If you want to be happy this is what you'll do. You want to be happy do you?"

"Oh, yes, cried the girl.

"Thank you, said the elf. "If you are happy, then you won't be crying at my oak. I won't have that again. Not again. Not again. I won't have you crying here again."

"Three swans swim on a pond. Each has black feet but only one has a black beak. Get the shortest tail feather from the swan and put it in your hair. When a poor boy says hello you must give it to him."

The girl had an awful time with the directive.

She found many ponds with swans. One pond had too many, yet another too few, and the third pond had the right number but their beaks were black and only one had black feet.

"This is impossible," cried the girl.

"It's only impossible if you let it," came a voice behind her.

She turned to see a roan-coated fox lounging by the side of the path.

"We're you there all along, fox?"

"You walked right by me with out so much as a How-do-you -do," said the fox.

"I'm sorry," said the girl. As she said it she realized she's been saying she was sorry to every creature she'd met since she left home.

I must be the sorriest person ever, she thought.

"How do you do?"

"Better than you it would seem," said the fox who set about licking a paw as though he were all alone.

"What is so impossible?"

So the girl told the fox what the elf had said.

"I see," said the fox. "How does this make you happy?"

"I don't know," admitted the girl. "The elf told me. I believed him."

"Oh, my dear," said the fox in his smoothest voice. "I think the elf was trying to get rid of you. How about if I help you instead?"

"Why should you help me?" Thindelina was surprised at her tone and wanted immediately to apologize.

She was about to do just that when the fox said, "Bring me a swan for my dinner and I will grant you anything you want."

This did not seem right to the girl. A feather was one thing. A swan could get by. Granting a wish she hadn't even decided on wasn't worth it.

"No," said the girl. She was surprised by her firmness. She had never said no to anyone even her sisters when they were cruel to her.

"Suit yourself," said the fox who went back to licking his paw.

The girl continued walking through the forest until she came to a small clearing with a pond in the middle. Three swans glided over the surface of the water barely breaking a ripple.

The water was so clear she could see right to the bottom, and she could see they all had black feet.

She drew closer and closer until she was at the water's edge. The swans swam by her. Their feathers were immaculate, their necks held high in a majestic arch, and their eyes closed as though they were sleeping.

Of the three only the last swan had a black beak.

"If I can get a feather a poor boy will say 'hello,' she remembered.

She reached out as far as she could and tried to grasped a tail feather. But it was too far and she tumbled into the water.

The swans flapped their wings and chattered from the commotion. The last swan dived down toward the girl. He grabbed the arm of her dress in his beak and hauled her to shore.

She sputtered and panted and coughed.

"Are you all right, child?" asked the swan. "You've taken a terrible tumble."

"Thank you for saving me, swan."

The other two drew closer to the shore and asked her why she'd fallen into the pond.

The girl was embarrassed to admit she was trying to steal a feather. She done nothing but get into trouble since she'd run away to cry. Now she'd never get a chance to have a poor boy say hello so she could be happy.

She told her story and apologized over and over to the swan and thanked him again for saving her.

"I would give you as tail feather freely, child, but it won't do you a lick of good. The elf was lying to you to get rid of you. Poor boys will say hello to any they chose with no need of a feather to entice them. Is this what you really want?"

"No," said the girl

"What do you want?"

No one had ever asked her what she wanted, not even the elf, really. She had to think about it for a moment. But when she did her answer came right away.

"I want to be free of my sisters torment every day."

She told them about the threat of being carried away by the wind and how she feared it was true. She heard it every day. Their parents did not correct her sisters so it must be so.

The swans turn their delicate necks away from the girl to confer in privacy.

When they turned back the third swan said, "We will help you. Go home and wait for us. When your sisters torment you about the wind say this: Wind, wind, sail me away. I won't stay another day."

She made her way home. Her parents were happy to see her at first, but they were busy so left her in the charge of her older sisters.

No sooner were the parents about their work when the two older girls began their awful teasing.

Instead of crying Thumbelina stood her ground. She looked at her sisters and then at the sky and said what the swan told her to say.

The two sisters laughed at her, but soon three swans appeared above them. They glided down to where the girls were standing.

The lead swan reached out a wing. He picked Thindelina up and drew her to his side.

"You've time to say your good-byes if you like."

But the girl remained quiet.

The swans circled around once about the two girls and then flew away never to be seen again.

When the parents came in from their chores they asked their daughters about Thindelina.

"Did she run off crying again?" asked their mother.

"No," the girls said. "The wind came up and carried her off."

"Well," said the mother. "You warned her."

The swans carried Thindelina away to their favourite pond deep in the forest.

She was cared for and happy all her days.

She never saw her sisters again and never once in all her life did she fear the wind would carry her away.

 

Gratitude Monday -- December Sunset

Above is a photo of the soft, warm sunset I saw yesterday.
It looked like a fire in the west and for a few brief moments all thought of cold disappeared.

Photo -Finish Friday -- Woman at Work

This pic is a pic I took in Peru in 1991. It's a Quechua woman at her loom in the late afternoon.

At the Feeder

We occasionally get a pine grosbeak at the front feeder. I had to be careful as the slightest noise will send most birds away.
I'm so glad this fellow let me take his picture.

This is an experiment wherein I try out Flickr.
 Thanks for bearing with me.

Tuesday Tales --The Old Clock Maker

The Old Clock Maker

Once on a night not long after the old couple moved across the wide sea to take care of their grandson the old man set down his tools. He sighed a great sigh and wiped his round, rimless glasses.

"Maybe in the morning I will see better."

"Grandad?"

A little boy of about seven or so with brown curly hair and a mischievous face poked his head around the corner of the workshop.

"Can I fix the clock with you?"

"Not tonight, Handel. Maybe in the morning. It's time for all good grandsons to be in bed."

And so the boy hurried off to bed while his granddad regarded the cuckoo on his bench with a critical eye.

"Why don't you sing anymore? Hmm? Will you tell me in the morning?"

He went upstairs to the small, cozy kitchen where a kettle boiled and Ella, his wife of too many years and yet nowhere near enough sat tatting a doily.

"Can an old man have a cup of tea?"

"Here. I am done with this tea bag. It still has life in it."

The old man sighed again and plunged the bag a few times into his cup of hot water.

"Wife, we can afford a tea bag each. We are not so destitute yet."

"Our grandson needs his good food. The money we save can go to his care. A growing boy needs a good lunch at school."

She put down her tatting and looked steadily at her husband over the top of the half-glasses she used for the close work.

"This country has not much work for a clock maker, Frank. Who has the big clocks here? Everyone has digital everything. They keep their clock on a telephone in their pocket."

"We get by, wife. I have a few clocks in the workshop now."

"They are mostly for cleaning. Where is the money in cleaning?"

"I have a cuckoo clock to fix. The cuckoo comes out, but he is silent."

"There is money in fixing this?"

"If it tells me what is wrong with it I can fix it. It's a good client. A regular client. He is always good to pay."

When their own cuckoo clock on the wall of the cozy kitchen announced it was the late hour of ten the couple tucked themselves in their bed.

The old man said his prayers for himself and for his family as he always did when he closed his eyes for sleep. On this night he added a little extra.

"If the Lord doesn't mind too much maybe he could help me to see what is wrong with the clock? And if is not too much trouble from an old man, He could maybe help me to fix it?"

In the morning after they had a simple breakfast and sent their grandson off to school with a good lunch, the old man when to his workshop to begin his day.

"What is this?" The old man exclaimed when he saw the clock on his bench had reassembled during the night.

"It can't be." And he picked it up and turned it over and examined it from all the angles.

"Do you work? Was an old man's prayers answered beyond his expectations?"

He tinkered a bit and pulled the chain and in a few minutes that seemed longer the cuckoo came out to announce the time. The happy tune of a wanderer rang clearly along with the cuckoos.

He called out from his shop. "Ella. It's fixed."

"Then you should call the owner and get your payment."

"But I found it this morning all done."

"Did you fix it in your sleep?"

"No. Of course not."

"Then someone is playing a trick. Are you sure it didn't work when he brought it in? He's a good client. Maybe he has taken pity on us." And she pounded the bread dough she was kneading extra hard at the thought of it.

"Hmm, a trick? Could it be the dinglemen are here?"

The client was so thrilled to have his cuckoo back so quickly he gave the man an extra few dollars as a tip.

Later on in the day another fellow came by with a grandfather clock that had stopped years earlier.

"I understand you do good work, Mr. Fraz. This clock hasn't moved in 15 years. It's a decoration now. I hear you work fast and do it good. Think you can help me?"

Frank ran his hands down its sides and narrowed his eyes at the hands stuck at 5:30.

"I will take a look."

He took it apart and blew out the years of dust and shined a light up into the works.

"It will take effort," he announced to himself. "I'll get a good start in the morning."

And that night during his prayers he asked again of the Lord to help an old man fix a clock. He remembered to say thank you and said it was all right if the Lord was too busy this time.

The next morning he found the grandfather clock ticking and tocking as though it was new from the shop.

Just as he was closing his eyes to say thank you he noticed something was missing. The $20 bill tip he'd left on the bench for luck was gone. He was sure he'd set it under the old clock gear he used for a weight.

"Maybe I knocked it on the floor by accident." He looked. It was nowhere to be seen.

"Perhaps I absently put it in my bag for the bank deposit," he suggested, but inside he knew better.

"Payment."

He waited a few hours to make sure the clock kept working and then called the man who brought it in.

He was paid promptly and well and with a bit extra for fixing it so quickly.

Later on he went to the bank and put the money in his account. The teller stuck up a conversation with him about his work and asked him if he could fix a plain old watch winder that was stuck.

She came by after the bank closed and handed it to him.

"It doesn't matter if it never works again. My dad gave it to me when I graduated high school. It's a keepsake, nothing more. But if it could run again, I'd like it. Analogs, especially the ones that wind up...you just don't see them much any more. I think only people our age would have one. We're the only ones who know how to use them."

He smiled and escorted her to the door and told her he'd let her know.

#

"Did you get a new bed, Brogryme? Is it the right size?"

"I did. I waited until near the end of the rumblings from the big warming machine. Our daughter's new bed is soft as kittens."

He settled back into his fat, cozy chair.

"Tonight again?"

"The old fellow needs an assistant. He's slowed a bit it seems. He left out one of these last night."

He pulled a rumpled green banknote from his pipe pocket and smoothed it on the oakchip table.

"It'll look nice on the wall across from the big window. Very cheery especially on winter days."

"It's torn on a corner. Why would you put it on a wall? Maybe it could paper the floor by the doorway. We could stack boots on it when we come in from a storm."

"Bosh, Mogryme. It's fine for the wall. The green's just like our shadyglen."

"It's not," she said shaking her head. "If you want it on the wall, then what will I say? You're the only one collecting these days."

"You miss it, do you?"

"I miss the fun of it, the discovering what the Big Ones leave out. And to hear them go on about it when they realize it's gone."

"I'm happy to stay with Grandygirl while you're adventuring."

"Not yet. I don't care to leave the little one. Not even for a minute."

He put up his feet over the side of the fat chair.

"Those Big Ones. They set such a store about knowing the hour of the day. What's to know? We eat at the hungry time, we sleep at the tired time, and the rest is for living."

"You pay attention to when the clock knocks."

"Aye. We need to know the best times to go out. But that's all we need to know."

"If you're so against them why do you fuss with the Big One's work?"

"The others give him the pretty papers. The more he gets the quicker our walls are done."

#

In the morning after his breakfast the old man went to his workshop. There on the bench was the wind up watch with its sweep second hand coursing merrily around the hours.

"Dinglemen."

And the old man went to the kitchen for a few scraps of food to set out for his night time visitors.

Gratitude Monday - A Normal Day

We forget the wonder in normal. The sense of security it can bring, and the evenness of feeling. Having a day like any other day gets taken for granted.
That is wrong.
There is beauty in calm and it deserves our attention.
Yesterday was just such a day.
We slept in until about 7:30 a.m which is normal for a weekend.
The day was overcast with a gentle snowfall. I put on a pot of stew and baked some cookies.
In the afternoon I wrote a few Christmas cards while the stew murmurred behind me and my husband did his woodcarving downstairs.
It was a simple day devoted to normal activities and simple pleasures. It was quiet and calm, as most days are for me.
But yesterday was different in that it drew my attention and I felt it on a level I rarely notice. For this reminder I am grateful.
It was a calm, normal day, and it was wonderful.