The Blue Castle

My favorite book by LM Montgomery is The Blue Castle.  Partly because I immigrated from Canada when I was four and only remember seeing snow, and my grandfather's house, and the frozen over lake.  

And of course, a character created by LM Montgomery is finally refreshingly modern and sassy.  Man, I get tired of these washed out characters such as Kilmeny, and Marigold(you are probably shocked to hear me say a six-year-old heroine is bland but that is my own opinion of the matter, forgive me).

On the other hand, The Blue Castle is literally the goods !  Valancy Stirling, an old maid at 29, tired of being quashed under the tyranical rule of her mother, decides to see the doctor about her occasional 'attacks'.  A doctor not respected by her family.  She receives a letter from same doctor that she has a rare heart disease and there is no hope of recovery.  At that moment she makes the decision to live the rest of her life as a carefree young woman, much to the shock of her overbearing family.  

And so in this way she discovers a world of love and beauty...

A Dedication, An Apology, and Salutations

This post is dedicated to:

The 23 people in the USA who view my blog.
The 7 civilians of France who peruse my posts.
The 2 villagers in Poland.
The 1 pleb in Germany who I hope I have not offended.
And finally, the 1 human being from Portugal.

Thank you for taking the time to glance over my disordered mess of dissertations, my terrible vocabulary, and my lack of knowledge in other languages.  So I take the risk to wish you all a Merry Christmas.

Merry CHRISTMAS!

Joyeux Noël!

Wesołych Świąt!*

Frohe Weihnachten!

Feliz Natal!


*In Poland, the interjection Wesołych Świąt also means Happy Easter. 

Joyeux Noël!

Merry Christmas!

Esther, Avila, Joe, Abe, Eph, Zachery

A long time, a different era passed since Josiah and me at eight years sang at Christmas Eve mass with the school children's choir.  Josiah has different and less joyous memories of the time than I have.  I was probably thinking mostly of my new hat and dress, and my pretty shoes.  Not to mention the sock monkey.    

I remember that Christmas so well!  The remembrance of Josiah's green face as we sang Go tell it on the Mountain, the feel of my black dress, the red rose pinned on my cardigan, being the only girl wearing a hat, and being a bit disappointed over the fact we were not going to sing in the choir loft.

That Christmas, Esther was three months old, we had never imagined Abel, and were living in a beautiful house in Salem on 2 acres.
This Christmas, we are living in the small, two-bedroom rectory in Sheridan.  We are very cozy, with a fat Christmas tree drying up in the living room.  Our window is peppered with snowflakes, our bookshelf is double stacked in parts, our couch is never empty, unless of course, Josiah is working with Dad.

This year I had drawn a blank on homemade gifts.   I'm too lazy, and the genie of creativity rarely speaks unless intimidated.  And so shopping at Goodwill brought gifts of old games from the early 1900s and later, cribbage, chess, checkers, Groove Move, Clue, puzzles(NO Thomas Kinkade!) and of course the old favorite, Connect-Four.

And the genie of creativity has spoken at last, for I was presented with a sock loom, circular knitting needles, yarn drum, and purple grips for crochet needles.
And yesterday, a trip to the library brought books on the fine art of Crochet.
I am ready to not only knit socks for every member of the family, but also I am ready to start anew in the Year of 2017.

Bless you!

P.S.  Josiah would like me to mention that in the first photo, he was not pinching Abel, he was holding him still(Psst! Same thing!). 

Four Calling Birds

There is something beautiful about fake wings.  The angel wings of my old costume were cut up to create my first communion banner.  I remember folding them tightly in my fist just to hear once more the crackle of the polyester fabric.  I wish sometimes I had them again to hear that comfortable sound.   Comfortable seems hardly the word for it and yet I can think of no other adjective an the to describe my feeling towards my angel costume. Is is hereby declared as a strange blogpost for I am moving on to another subject

Thanks a million to the dear people who contributed to the Wonders of Wonders series!
Trinity Goffe
Lia S R.
Catia Boris
Ted Nortness
I retread your stories till I was half pirate, half biscuit, half pancake, half Meadowlark Stanton, and had a broken femur.  You guys are awesome!

The prize of Amazing Use of High School Vocabulary is awarded to Trinity Goffe. Your prize is a chocolate acorn cake-let.

The Endurance of a Broken Femur prize is awarded to no other than Catia Boris.  Your prize is sneak peek of my mystery Wicked Day.

Lia S R. Is being awarded the badge of Steal Like An Artist since you took your idea from Pirates of the C.  You are to be given an Amigurumi creation from Avidgurumi.  I'll send it so no worries!

Ted Nortness is awarded the merit badge of Cliffhanging.  You must finish the rest of Meadowlark Stanton!

Thank you all for sharing your stories!  Bless you.

The Advent of Our King

Wonders of Wonders V

My fellow adventurers,here is the next part of The Atlantian Bride. I hope you enjoy this as much as I.-Lia R.S        Introduction: A great darkness has arisen, pirates everywhere are disappearing, the Royal Navy is on the move and many are wondering if a War between the Pirates and Britain is converging. A young Pirate crew,a broken huntress, a mysterious lady, Jack Sparrow and co. and the Pirate Lords. All are tied together in this saga and only together can they stop "Her". Will they sort out their differences and band together or fall divided.....Darkness and War are coming, who will you stand with? 

The Atlantian Bride Pt 2 

Kit Serene the “ Shadow Vixen” watched and waited patiently at the docks spying on her prey, Jack Sparrow was just a few feet away from her hiding place, a stack of old crates. She thought of the stories her sisters told her of, a dashing rugged, seafaring pirate lord and immortal captain of the Black Pearl.

 “We’ll soon see about that” she mutters quietly “your “immortality” will not save you from your fate so easily this time” her heart quickened at the thought of her orders, “Dirzara” for “She” was the one thing that she believed she could trust, “Dirzara” was what kept her alive and trained her, “Dirzara” said “She” had saved her from the vile treacherous world and was helping her discover her potential her “true potential”. For “Dirzara” was her master and had commanded her to hunt down Jack Sparrow and kill him, her eyes silently watched as he spoke to one of the crew and started walking past her. Kit unsheathes her blade, a blade of pure black metal, even hilt, save a fox of red upon it, and prepares to strike. Now she thought thrusting her blade towards her prey, and suddenly a flock of chickens wander past, her blade catching a hen the hen lets out a dying screech “SCREEEEEEE!”;  

Startling the Captain, his companion and stirring up a commotion. As Kit wrenched her blade free of the hen’s body, the rooster flew up and attacked her face “Arg!” Kit shouted as she tried to defend herself. Kit stumbled, knocking into another group of pirates sending them into the water, into another group or through cargo and tipping the crates in the process, angered the pirates started fighting, in a few short moments an all-out brawl was started. Scrambling up from where she fell, Kit glanced at the Captain, she felt his gaze upon her “you there!” he shouted over the din, Kit took off, running in the opposite direction “wait!” he shouted as he and his companion ran after Kit. She knocked over stands and people as she ran; creating obstacles in Jack Sparrows path, putting on a burst of speed Kit slips into an alleyway and watches the pair race past.  Kit waited until her pulse stopped racing and the proceeded to draw her blade; determined to finish the task. When she felt a cold sensation; like ice, and heard a terrible, whispering voice inside her head; it was one of the Seven Ethereals summoning her. 

“Shadow, Dirzara Commands You to Return.” 

“Very Well.” she responds silently and the connection fades, cursing her ill-fated luck this day Kit closes her eyes as she steps into a shadow and vanishes; reappearing somewhere distant. 

Opening her eyes Kit is greeted by one of the Seven, Arorzael a winged spirit, “Greetings Shadow Vixen, Welcome Back to Serphyn.” (To be continued)

SAA Thank You!

12/2/16

My dear friends,

Over the past few days I’ve received many touching notes, beautiful drawings, lovely flowers, sugary sweets, prayers, and thoughtful visitors! I can’t tell you how much all of these things mean to me, I am extremely touched. : ) I’ve read your letters several times now and many of your notes told me how brave and tough I was out there on the field. Well, let me tell you something, let me tell you how brave and tough you all have been, especially Lee Rea, J. P. Guy, Mariah Godde, and Eliana Denham, who never left my side from the moment I fell to the moment I was taken away in the ambulance! I owe a special thank you to Guiseppe Forte for going to get help right away, and to Mr. Fredrickson, Mr. Van Hecke, and Miss Warnert, who stood by to give special support. Without your bravery I couldn’t have gotten through any of this. In order to tell you how much I appreciate you guys and everyone at SAA I need to tell you what happened from the time I got injured to the time I got discharged from the hospital.

After I heard my leg snap and was on the ground, people came to help me right away, people who stayed calm, cool, and collected. No one was freaking out except, well, me I guess.: ) Now, that alone takes guts! If you had not been calm I am sure I would’ve been less calm myself and as a result my pain level would have most likely gone up. So, that in itself is something to be proud of, not everyone can do that! All of you should become doctors or nurses, or something! : ) Also, you started praying for me right away, so I knew I was off to a good start! Your prayers showed me how strong you all are in your Catholic faith. I admire every one of you at St. Augustine’s for it.

It was truly a miracle that I was able to feel very little pain through the whole thing and was able to laugh and smile along with those who were by my side. Whether you realized it or not, God was truly working through you, my friends! : ) He was using your beautiful smiles and happy laughter to cheer me up. Those are gifts and you have used them for good! That was the reason why I was able to smile, laugh, have conversations with ya’ll, make up crazy stories about my leg, and sing along with you when I should have been in agony. God has blessed me with loving, caring people to take care of me and when I count my Thanksgiving blessings I count you twice! : )

Let’s speed ahead a bit. After the ambulance ride (which I gotta say was pretty fun), I arrived at the hospital and was taken immediately to the E.R. Everyone was extremely nice at CMH and although my leg felt perfectly fine and was still in no pain, that is when I started to cry. Suddenly, everything just hit me, everything that had happened. While I was in the E.R. the one thing I remember saying over and over again through my tears is “I don’t know why I’m crying! My leg feels fine”. My mom explained to me over and over again that I had gone through a lot that day and I was just feeling overwhelmed, but I still insisted that I shouldn’t be crying because my leg was not in a bit of pain. It seems funny to me now that I would be confused about why I was crying. Now I’m thinking *DUH! Of course you would start crying! You broke the biggest bone in your body!*. I guess why I’m telling you all of this is because in your letters most of you told me how amazed you were that I didn’t cry or scream. Well, I was definitely crying in the ER and the pain meds were known to make one emotional, but I’d like to think it was mainly because before I was surrounded by your brave familiar faces and so I wanted to be brave for you. Now that you weren’t there, it was a bit harder.

The next order of business was the x-rays, which showed that my femur had broken a clean break. This would make my surgery a lot easier. Also, they found out that I had stopped growing which was pretty much no news to me. : ) This also was fortunate, for if I had continued growing I could have ended up with uneven legs, my right longer than my left, which could cause other problems in future. So, you see, God picked the right time for this! : ) Although all these things were wonderful news, we still worried about why my leg had just snapped and from giving a piggy-back ride, no less. We were worried that maybe there was something wrong with my bones, but the doctor told us that my bones were perfectly strong and that what happened was just a freak accident. God had a plan in mind though so I’m sure this was no accident, but in any case, God was with me every step of the way due to your prayers! : )

I had surgery that night and the last thing I remember is hearing “Hotel California” playing on the radio before I was given the drug that made me fall asleep. I woke up an hour later feeling delightfully sleepy and painless; it was heaven! The doctor told us the surgery went very well, which was great! : ) There are three incisions in my left leg where they put in a titanium rod. I was told that in the years to come I would be able to have this rod taken out if I wanted, but a titanium rod in my leg just sounds too cool, so I think I won’t ever want to take it out! : D I was also told that every time I go through security the alarms wouldn’t go off like crazy. : )

Early Tuesday I had my first Physical Therapy which was the most painful thing I had experienced since the accident. Eventually I made it out of bed and used a walker to aid me, I could only walk five steps, maybe less, and then was put back in bed. This was a lot less than my goal. I’m going to skip ahead to later that night. That night my nurse was replaced by another nurse named Stephanie. She told me she wanted me to get out of bed soon and try walking again. Immediately, I thought of the pain the first PT had caused me and I got nervous. I told her about how it was earlier and how painful it had been and asked her if she didn’t think it was still premature. She told me that the more I got up, the quicker I would heal and the less pain I would be in. So, we began and this time I was a little calmer and the pain wasn’t as bad. Finally I was nearing the edge of the bed and my leg was in a lot of pain. I started to lose it and got scared; I wasn’t sure I could do it. My mom told me to think of all the people at school and what they would say if they were here. I started to think of everyone at school who had cheered me on, whether it was sports in P.E. or before I took a big test. I thought of Eliana in particular and I could clearly see her face and hear her say “You got this, babe”. I got closer to the edge. It hurt pretty bad and I knew that it was going to be terribly painful bringing my legs into a sitting position on the bed. I started to lose it again. Then Stephanie told me a story.

“I was in an accident when I was eighteen, I got hit by a motorcycle which broke the lower part of my leg. My doctor told me I would never walk again, but I didn’t let that stop me. I got well and one day I got on my crutches and walked into the doctor’s office to prove to him that he was wrong. If I could do that, you can do this. I believe that you can.”

Dang! This girl is brave and a fighter. She was gutsy. I admire that; she is something amazing. Instantly, she became one of my heros. I made it out of bed and using crutches I made it to my goal! From there it got easier and easier like she said it would and the next day I was discharged. So, pretty amazing, right? I was only in the hospital for three days! I couldn’t have done it without your prayers, love, friendship, and support. : ) I know I won’t grow any taller, but I know I can stand tall knowing you loving people are my friends! : D Thanks for all the support. I’ll come hurrying back soon, but I’ll remember not to run, Mr. Van H.! ; )

Love,

Clare Bagdazian

P.S

People are going to have to give me piggy-back rides when I come back to school; just don’t break your femurs! ; )

Wonders of Wonders IV

Hey "Avid" here is part of a story I'm writing, the first part anyway. Let me know what you think-Lia

The Atlantian Bride Pt 1

(A story from the Pirates of the Caribbean)

  The Atlantian Bride was owned by the Fidelity Ship Liners a company located on the Ilse of the West, in the Ayrisan Sea. Her crew was led by Captain Efayrin Lionheart (the first piratess on the Ilse of the West). It was a stormy day at the City of Carlyn, the Atlantian Bride had just returned from a cargo run to Riventown; her crew was at the Unicorns Tavern, celebrating another safe voyage. 

“A toast to Captain Efayrin Lionheart!”  

Skipper said “for proving once again who the mistress of the seas really is!” 

“Aye!” all those in the tavern shouted lifting their ales to the young piratess.

 “Long live the Pirate Lords!” Efayrin said standing up and raising her ale to her fellow sea raiders, “Long live the Pirate Lords!” they echoed back. 

Efayrin sat down, she felt her old comrade Will Iron’s gaze upon her 

“what?” she asked 

“oh nothing except the fact that you’re becoming quite a scallywag.” 

“As I should be," she replied "after all I am soon to be a legendary pirate lord, with a legendary crew.”  

“True and not true” he said 

“what do you mean by that?” she asks.

“what Will meant is that we still have a long way to go before we become legends.” 

Skipper and his twin Tagg Treaty chorus, 

“You got that right.” Charlie Maleth says “I’ll second that” Ivan Carrs says, “ditto” Percy Johnston adds.  

“Really boys have a little faith in yourselves we’ve made it this far!” Efayrin says looking pointedly at her friends

 “So we haven’t gone any raids yet big deal, we’re still the youngest and successful crew to get this far yet!” 

“And we proved that a thief, a pair of insufferable twins, a slow witted lad, an old one handed seadog veteran, and an orphan, could be one of the best hardworking, dangerous pirate crew like the rest of them!” Will states 

“Aye!” they all shout.      

Now around this time the Royal Navy was sailing out to capture and liberate any pirates caught breaking the law. Their commander was Sir Edward Weston, a man with a fierce hatred for pirates and magic alike. Sir Edward was looking out to the open sea before him and smiled for the pirate’s world was filled with chaos and soon their world would not exist and order would be restored. Yes he thought with a grim satisfaction, a world of order and peace……… and the pirates wouldn’t know what hit them. 

Submitted by Lia Seenauth of Whiteman MO.   Wonderful!  I never read a pirate story before, and was very intrigued by this.  Hope for more to come!

The Back Story of the Christmas Tree

The evergreen tree was used to celebrate winter festivals of pagan origin. The Pagans would decorate their homes with evergreen boughs during the winter solstice to ward off evil spirits and witches.

  In the same way, the early Romans marked the solstice with a feast called the Saturnalia in honor of Saturn, the god of agriculture. The Romans knew that the solstice meant that soon farms and orchards would be green and fruitful. To mark the occasion, they decorated their homes and temples with evergreen boughs. In Northern Europe the mysterious Druids, the priests of the ancient Celts, also decorated their temples with evergreen boughs as a symbol of everlasting life. The fierce vikings in Scandinavia thought that evergreens were the special plant of the sun god, Balder. 

Germany was thought to have first used an evergreen tree to celebrate the birth of Christ. 
Martin Luther is believe to have first introduced lighting candles and fastening them on the boughs. The story goes, Martin Luther was walking home one night, going over his sermon for the christmas service when he saw  large firs pointing to the stars above.  This inspired him to create a scene for his family in the living room by erecting a small tree in the parlor and decorating it with candles.   I have my doubts about this fact, it may have been dreamed up by the Lutheren Church in order to create a "lovable" character out of Luther.   Even if I try hard I cannot seem to associate Martin Luther with the tradition of decorating the Christmas tree.  To be cont....

Wonders of Wonders III

Meadowlark Stanton took off his coat by the window in his hotel street. He gazed down onto the icy streets. A lone streetlight flickered in the drifting snow. The cold was biting outside. Men and woman walked stiffly, with coats and scarves wrapped to their noses. Meadowlark shivered. In corner of his eye, something brought his attention. A rose in a glass sat on the desk next to him. He smiled silently to himself. Meadow reached and gently lifted the flower.  He held the flower to his face.  The flower bright back memories, he thought he forgot. Memories which were short and sweet. These memories brought back the usual depression, and Meadowlark frowned. A piercing pain throbbed in stabbed his thumb. He exclaimed loudly, and the rose fell back down. Meadow sucked the blood from his thumb, and sat on the couch. Happiness, is never forever. Every rose, has it’s thorn.The phone rang loudly, and Stanton jumped. He groaned, and picked it up.
 “This is Meadowlark Stanton, Private Detective. To whom am I speaking?”
 “Meadow, you poor old dog.” Stanton smiled. “Hey there chief. How in the devil did you get this number?”
 It was the chief of Scotland yard, Norrin Roberts. He’d been friends with Roberts since the first days of the academy. He’s always find him attempting to flatter the other girls there, and failing of course. Norris was a ladies man, although the “ladies” didn’t consider him that way. Norris let out that loud, jolly laugh that was so familiar. “Had some help from the boys in tech up here. How’s life, Sherlock?” Meadow rolled his eyes. 
“Why do you ask that? You know you're not going to get much of an answer.” 
“So nothing new? No new trips? New adventures? New things? Perhaps new… people?” Meadow could tell Roberts was grinning. “Alright, alright, cut it out.” Roberts laughed again. “Ah, come on big brother. You know I kid.” Meadow couldn't help but smile at his playfulness. Meadow finally noticed, he needed somebody to talk to. But Norris called for a reason, and Meadow was determined to figure out what that reason was. “Yeah, yeah. Why was I called, Roberts?” He heard a chuckle over the phone. 
“There’s the Meadow I know. Always business. Can’t you have some fun sometimes? You should get out more. I know a plac-” 
“Roberts.” Meadow interrupted. “Answers.” He heard him gulp. 
“We need you on a case again Meadow.” Meadow contemplated this. How long ago was his life in law enforcement. Two years. Was it time to come back? Meadow looked around the room. This life wasn’t doing him much good. “What kind of case?”
 “Homicide, and it’s a doozy.”  Meadow took a deep breath. “When can I start?”   

By Teddy Nortness.  Continuation of Inquisition of Prof. Plumpfront.  Well done! the relationship between Meadowlark and the Chief Roberts is delightful. 

Star of Bethlehem

For Unto us a Child is born, Unto us a Son is given.... Isaiah 9:6-7 
By Zachery-Emmanuel.

Wonders of Wonders II: Older Sister Fiascos

The boys were starving to death (so they said by their words and actions), so I decided to make them some pancakes. As we have a pretty large family, and they all have rather voracious appetites, I decided to make a quintuple batch. (!) The recipe, multiplied by five, called for 15 teaspoons of baking powder. (!!) I, for some reason, thought that it said baking soda. So I put fifteen teaspoons of baking soda in and then expected my long-suffering family to eat them! (!!!) My brother Aidan took a bite and choked. I turned pale (figuratively) and took a bite and also choked. They were all disgusting and not even a gallon of maple syrup could help. So we threw them away and for some time after that I was very careful about the difference between soda and powder! -Trini  

Mom had left for a quiet retreat putting me in charge of the meals.  I was very excited because I believed this to be a chance to show how responsible and what a wonderful cook I was.  I took cooking seriously and began making banana bread, tomato sauce, spaghetti and everything I needed to make a delicious meal.  Everything turned out beautifully and I was confident I was a boon of a cook.  The next day I decided to start early with simple biscuits. I rolled out the dough and cut out little crosses painstakingly with a knife and slid the pan into the oven. About twenty minutes later I took the pan from the oven and admired the golden crust and the brown edges.  Upon consumption, my siblings began to grimace and looked at the huge platter of tiny cross shaped biscuits with new eyes.  

I took a bite of one particular fat biscuit and choked.  The biscuits tasted as if they had been made with sawdust and gas! 
 The moral of this story is take baking soda with a grain of salt and follow instructions perfectly.  Do not become over-confident when trying a recipe you have never made before.                                                                                                                            -Avid

I even took a picture of them for I thought they looked so appetizing.  Joke on me!  

Advent Paragraph from Good Shepherd Catholic Bulletin

Adventus means arrival or coming in Latin. Advent is a time of preparation for Our Saviors birth. Four candles are lit on the Advent wreath to symbolize four weeks(or four Sundays) before Christmas. It is also the beginning of a new Church year. The color for the coming of the King is purple to symbolize royalty. On the third Sunday of Advent(Gaudete Sunday) the vestments worn are Rose to call to attention the close arrival of the newborn baby Jesus. During Advent we give up various attachments to ready our home and our souls for christmas. The Prayer of St. Andrew is said throughout Advent to bring blessings to our new Year as the universal Catholic Church. Contributed by Avila Dauvin

The Jesse Tree from three years ago...our ornaments are still in storage but we are reading the Jesse Tree readings every evening.
Creation, Banishment from Eden, Cain and Abel, and Noah and the Ark.

P.S. Incidentally, upon close examination, the ornaments are not in order, but they still are beautifully placed by small hands.

Wonders of Wonders

Its that time of year again! This is the first installment of the December series, Wonders of Wonders.
Trini Goff resides in Keizer with her younger siblings. She is an aspiring writer, reader and sophomore.


The Sudden Disclosure

The old man sat alone in the study. Firelight flickered off the walls and ceiling, casting grotesque shadows that lengthened as the fire died. He was waiting for something that always made him happy, something that happened once a day, something that no one could have but him. He was waiting for thoughts from the King of Faery.
After a while, in which the fire got lower and lower, one came to him.
“I am walking down a corridor”, he thought. “What am I doing? Ah, I see now. I am walking swiftly away from something I do not want. Kingship!” he thought suddenly and inexplicably. “But no, that is not right. That makes no sense. Imagination. That is what I am fleeing. I come to a door. What am I seeing? More than I want.” the dream changed. “Now I am talking to a king. The king of the Faery? But he is different than this.” Then a myriad of images flitted quickly past him, but imprinting themselves indelibly into his mind. And it was his life he was reliving. And suddenly, with a blinding flash of recognition, he realised how much he had been lying to himself, how much he had been deceived by his own thoughts.

“I have lived a long life”, he told his curly-haired grandson later on. “And during it I believed everything I made up.”
“You must have been very stupid, Grandpa!” said the little boy unthinkingly.
“Oh no, not stupid,” said the old man, smiling. “Only misinformed.”

The Faery king smiled to himself, unseen, in the darkness. He had succeeded.


There is still time and space for your stories, thoughts, jokes etc on this blog! The series will go on till Boxing Day 2016 so keep on thinking. Thank you Trini for your mysterious and alluring story and for the time you put into it.

Interactive Story By TM Nortness

I asked dear members or cruisers of the web to submit either a story for the December Post series, Wonders of Wonders. There were two people who submitted a story and an experience and one I will publish as the last post of November(you are more than welcome to submit et cetrea;)). It is an interactive story by Mr. TM Nortness which he is currently writing. It is very intriguing and thank you, Mr. Nortness for taking your time to write this story!

▼
Trumpets boomed from far away. The sun shined down on the glorious stone giant. A castle! Birds flew in fright of the loud music and the sounds of cheers from the people of the village. The arena was set. Everyone had came from the shacks below to watch the knights clash. The suspense was high. Nobody knew when it would start. They would sometimes wait hours. But not today. The crowds grew silent rapidly. A handful of guards marched out, followed by servants carrying a large throne. The people all bowed down. The king has arrived. A large, plump man with a snowy grey beard in a robe. His throne was set. He sat in hesitation. The man slowly lifted his withered hand, and took a deep breath. "Let the games begin!!!" He shouted. The crowds erupted, more excited then ever. People shook the stands in delight. They watched as a large wooden door lifted itself from the ground, and a horse marched out. The trumpets changed to a different tune. It was almost drowned out by the people though. This was their favorite part. The prince participated in the ceremony. By participated, I mean he won all of the games. He was dressed in the most pompous robes in the kingdom, and the cheers grew even louder when he threw them off. The prince smirked to the crowds, and lifted a hand. "Now, now." He said. The crowds still raged. The prince scowled. "QUIET!!" He shouted furiously. The  excitement faded. He took a deep breath, and smiled again. "I'm afraid there were no knights in my father's battalion to fight me unfortunately." He gave the crowd another smirk ad they burst out laughing. The prince's hand stuck up again, and all was still. "So I have decided to try something new...." A skinny finger jolted up and pointed to the crowd. "One of YOU!! Will fight me!!!" The excitement exploded. "I will be accepting a volunteer... If you win, you will receive your weight in gold. If you lose...." The crowd chortled at his grim silence. "If no one volunteers, I will be picking somebody to fight me out of random. Now, who is brave enough to defeat me!" He pulled his sword, and pointed to the crowd. The excitement had left all. A small teenager stood up for a second, then a woman (his mother) pulled him back down. No one was dumb enough to fight the prince. A Cheshire grin had spread on his face. "Exactly what I expected." His sword was lifted once again to face the crowd. This time it moved across the crowds of worried faces. No one wanted to be picked. Something happened in the prince's eyes. A flicker of something devious. He had picked. The people looked more nervous then ever as they tried to stay out of the swords way. The sword had finally stopped.  "YOU SIR!!" They prince yelled. The crowds parted, to see who had been chosen. A figure sat alone. The prince smiled. "You have been chosen. Congratulations! Come out and show yourself to these people." To Be Continued...

The author lives in the hills of Willamina and is in 8th Grade.

Geletin Salad Amigurumi Pattern

I was crocheting in the desert hills of Santa Paula, sort of aimlessly. I had no idea what to make, no internet connection and a fed-up imagination. A mind blurb popped up in the shape of a moulded geletin salad. This topic is very different compared to my previous posts, but if you saw the image on Pinterest and are on this website for the first time, thanks for commenting or sharing this post with any of your aqaintences. Here is the pattern, it is free, easy to follow. Any mistakes in my pattern, or just wanting to share pictures of your creations, email amgdauvin@gmail.com.

Plate: color c

Make a slip knot.
Ch 3 and join third chain from hook.
6 sc into third chain from hook to make a round.
Rnd 1: 1 sc in each chain
Rnd 2: 1 sc in each chain
Rnd 3: 1 sc in each chain
Rnd 4: 1 sc in each chain
Rnd 5: 1 sc in each chain around
Rnd 6: 1 sc in each chain

Pretty simple, right? This creates a flat plate which you will connect to the gelatin salad's body.

Creamy base: color b
This will be a Two Rnd stripe bridging the plate.

Rnd 1: 1sc in each stitch of plate.
Rnd 2: 1sc in each stitch

Gelatin body: color a

You must know how to increase before you try this out!

Rnd 1: 1sc in each stitch until Rnd 5
Rnd 6: back stitch only! 1sc in each stitch around.
Rnd 7: 3sc in each stitch
The next 3 rows are as follows: 3sc in every stitch.
Rnd 12: 1 sc in every stich to create a flat top.
Rnd 13: finish top and weave in ends.

Voila! Enjoy your creation!

An Epic of Sorts

The Epic Of The Spy
WK 3, QTR 1
By Avila M. Dauvin


Tell me Muse of the Scarlet Spy, one who compares with a fox, searching for prey with bloodthirsty eyes and a cunning gleam crowding the narrow pupils. He pounces on a lone figure, crushing it with the force of gravity and bringing it up to the snout in bloody triumph. The day will come when the Spy will be judged of its false actions and long nose.

The shipyard was cold and stinky of dead fish long dead and men long hardened by the glare of the sun and the dead weight of the crusted anchor. Like a heavy burden turning the hearts of the trespassers cold as ice with nothing but the frost to disfigure it. The men all looked towards the west and same did one pudgy Ethiopian, black as the Arabian coffee bean and just as strong. His teeth gleamed in the sunlight like pearls one dives to the death in search of. The pearls would champ on the hands of many men who went looking for fortune, clamping them tight in the mouth of iron with a jaw of granite, concealing the man to his bitter fate of death.

The Ethiopian, The Devil as he was called by his master was grinning at the sailors in a hideous fashion. His long fingers curled menacingly and his nostrils flared like a bull to charge with enough momentum to hurl the victim and crash him against a fence. “Oh glory!” the Devil cried. “Why must thee take no girls aboard?”
“We shall take one as a wife and cook!” hollered back a brawny sailor, his lip curling back to form the smile of a python, coiling against the mast and ready to strike in his defense.
The sailor glanced upon a lass with hair as golden as the barnacles that stuck to the hold of the ship like leeches. He grabbed her and carried the lass to the ship, clamping her mouth shut with his dirty paw. “This here is my wife!” he yelled and “We wants to go to China!” He was triumphant of his prize and tied her in the hold so she would never escape. “Never again, old hag shall you se this here land of yours. We shall marry in China and you shall keep house for me.” He laughed like a magpie after a treasure and with his wings flew up the the deck snarling over the priceless treasure.

The Ethiopian, called The Devil by his Master swung up on deck and sprinted to the hold. The girl was crying bitterly like an infant without candy and she cried louder when the black man crouched closer. “Go! Go! It is no use. He shall kill me if I'd try escape! He already has done so to seven other girls such as myself.”
The Ethiopian smiled and showed the pearls men would try to get by knocking his skull. “I shall get killed,” he said quietly. Quiet was all he was. The stillness was immense. He clutched the girl and asked kindly, “Can you swim, dear mistress?” She replied in assent. He loosened the ropes hold on the girl and carried her up. The ship had not cast off and was rocking in the bay like a toy sailboat that boys long to throw rocks at. He bent over to let her down and she dropped in the water and swam like a mermaid, her golden locks streaming after her like seaweed clinging to the skull and sucking up the scalp.
The Ethiopian had hoped against hope that his life would be saved. He saw his chance to jump into the sea and drift towards shore. But no, it was not to be.

This might seem as a morbid epic and you shall be wondering where does This little girl get such vulgar ideas, but there may be meaning in these words. I wrote without ceasing and that might mean the Holy Spirit was on the move. Who knows?
Continued in Dec

The Inquisition of Prof. Plumpfront Part II

Continued From November 4th

“Yes sir, but sir. Do you not remember it is my day off? I have a date with Ms. Comfrey-Brown tonight at seven, sir.”
“Eh, whose that? I never heard of her. All right we'll pick the things up if you don't mind. I must speak with bubbles.”
“Yes sir, right away sir. I shall have your bags packed, sir.”
“Thank you. We will be there immediately, Sumter. And cancel my engagement with Ms. Adams. I suppose we shall see each other at one of the four inquisitions.”
“Four, sir?” asked Sumpter coldly.
“Yes four! I told you of the murder, didn't I? Blast it!”
“I am sure I shall read about it in the paper, sir. Speaking over the telephone on such matters is highly irregular.”
“Sumpter, you are a fool.”
“Thank you sir.”
“You sound like a butler one might read about in detective fiction.”
“Thank you sir.”
“Its no compliment. While you are at it, contact Sherlock Holmes and take a hot bath before you meet that girl. What her occupation anyway, Sumter?”
“I believe she is a waitress, sir.”
“Good, good! I thought so. Bring her to the inquisition some time. Its bound to be amusing.”
“Yes sir. I will sir. Good day sir.”
“Stop sirr-ing me, Sumpter! For heavens sake isn't it the 21st century?”
“Yes, Mister Plumpfront.”
“Then its time you got out of the 19th.”
“Very clever, Mister Plumpfront.”
“I know man. Goodbye Sumpter. Take care of the Animal Shelter.”
“Goodbye Sir. I shall have your bags ready.”
“Sumpter! SUMPTER! He hung up! The fool hang up with as much sass as a donkey!”
“Thats fine. It was time to leave anyway, you spent a good ten minutes talking to the man. Whats your address?” asked the Chief, pulling out a squashed notebook from his breast pocket.
“Barabbas Court, last flat in the cul-de-sac. Hey, that rhymes remarkably well!” brightened the professor. “Barabbas Court, last flat...in the cul-de-sac!”
“True poet you are, Mister. What number?”
“444, last one to the door,” sang Professor Plumpfront happily.
“A little too much port?” muttered the Chief. He pushed the old man to the car and drove off, the Professor making up nonsensical rhymes.
Sumpter ran out of the flat carrying a lumpy suitcase and wearing a look of disapproval.
“I must see bubbles, Sumpter,” said Professor Plumpfront cheerfully.
“Yes sir. I shall bring him out.”
“No we shall go in. Cannot have Bubbles catching pneumonia at a time like this. Mix a little scotch, will you, Sumpter? Come in...oh dash it! What is your name?”
“Gefferies, Mister Plumpfront. Chief Donald Gefferies.”
“Donald? The Scottish Gaelic name derived from the name Domhnall. Tut, tut, tut. A mere figment of my knowledge, Domhnall. Come in and warm yourself. The night grows biter.”
“I beg to remind you, Mister Plumpfront, but we are supposed to be leaving for the station,” answered the Chief, turning red with suppressed rage.
“Yes, quite. Look at Bubbles though. He is a beauty,” remarked the Professor happily. He looked like a child, delighted by colored beads.
“Mister Plumpfront,” retorted Chief Gefferies impatiently.
“Shhhush!” rebuked the Professor. “He may be sleeping.”
They walked down the narrow hall which was hung with clippings of Whippets, Yorkshire terriers, and Dalmatians. They were carefully glued to white pasteboard and tacked to the wall with little consideration for the wallpaper.
“My collection. That one's Gaffy. Won me a blue at the National Convention Dog Show. Wonderful breed and full of vitality,” said the Professor sadly. Sumpter strode with a tray delicately balanced on his arm and poured the whiskey and water carefully. Chief Gefferies twitched an eyebrow but took a glass.
“Its good. Straight from Scotland!” boasted Professor Plumpfront.
“Are you going to drink anything?” growled the Chief.
“After I see Bubbles and stamp a letter. Drink it slowly, my good man. Goes easier off the tongue that way.”
The Chief grasped the glass and grit his teeth. “How am I to make sure it isn't poisoned?”
“My dear man!” exclaimed the Professor in astonishment. “You don't mean to tell me you think I poisoned the port?”
“Of course I do!” cried the Chief.
“I am so sorry I mislead you to believe...Oh well.”
“Thats for the judge to decide,” grumbled Gefferies meanly.
“ Bubbles, come here my precious Bubbles!” The Professor sat down in an armchair and wiped his brow. A tiny, hairy dog trotted in and put his paws on the Professors pant leg.
“You dear little thing. Gefferies, sit down. It must be uncomfortable for you to stand there with a glass of scotch in your hand.”
Gefferies sat down stiffly in the opposite chair and flew backwards off it. The scotch trickled down his face as he lay on the floor wondering what had happened. The Professor was chuckling and then laughing and then crying.
“Its a rocking chair, Gefferies! A rocking chair! Oh you look so funny with the scotch running down your face! Look Bubbles!” The Professor nearly choked.
Gefferies jumped up and scowled at the old man. “Its not funny! You should have warned me! The police will think its queer when I come in smelling of whiskey with..dog hair all over me!”
“Oh its too good! He rolled right in the sunny spot where Bubbles takes his nap!”
“Thats ENOUGH!” roared the Policeman.
“It is beautiful hair though,” said the Professor apologetically. “Golden brown, like taffy.”
“Come on!” barked Gefferies. “We are leaving for the station. Tomorrow is the inquisition of Mr. and Mrs. Hamstreet.”
“Poor couple. I met them at the dog park only last week and introduced them to the club. They have a beautiful terrier. And a Pomeranian which reminds me. Sumpter!”
“Yes Mister Plumpfront?” asked the butler uneasily.
“Get me the latest issue of DOGS please.”
The magazine was produced and the professor licked his fingers and put on his glasses. “Lets see. There was an article which I think you will find interesting. It states the timeline and evolution of the Pomeranian in quite detailed illustration.”
“I don't want to hear about DOGS!” roared Gefferies. “Get out to the car!”
“You don't know what it stands for? Of course you don't,” mumbled the Professor sulkily. “Get off Bubbles, my precious angel. I shall see you in the morning.”
Sumpter appeared with his hat and coat, and wound his scarf round his neck. “Thank you Sumpter. You are bully!”
“Quite so Mister Plumpfront. May I have my weekly salary?”
“What's the grand total, my man?" queried Professor Plumpfront, taking out a small coin purse.
“60 pounds, Mister Plumpfront.”
“You manservants are all the same,” grunted the professor, taking out a wad of notes.
“I am sorry sir. My date with Ms. Comfrey-Brown desires it.”
“I see, I know, I hear.” retorted Professor Plumpfront, waggling his finger in Sumpters face.
He left the room, humming the first bars of the Salve Regina.
“What was that all about?” asked Gefferies.
“I have no right to say, sir. May I show you to the door? The Professor will be out shortly.”
The Chief of Police scratched his bald head and waddled out to the waiting car, fuming under his breath about the smell of whiskey.

Dear Grandma,

Happy birthday, Grandma! I love you! You are heart of my heart...I love that melody...

I remember once when I was a little girl I was given a little kitten I called Rosie. Rosie had a little sibling sister whom I decided was to be Grandma's new cat. Once Grandma saw the kitten we had to decide on a name and I felt so happy that Grandma would trust me to name Her cat. Posie still roams around and even if she is not as friendly or cuddly as a kitten, that memory is always close to my heart. Posie was The first present I ever gave to Grandma.

Attention!

You are invited to submit an incident, story, joke or reflection for the December post, Wonders of Wonders. Email the address in previous post!

See, its possible to drink a cappuccino and write at the same time. Its almost the holiday season where writers block is lifted! Get out the notebook, People!
I have a resource for November writing that was shared by spam email by a friend. NaNoWriMo, otherwise known as National Novel Writing Month is only through November and in that short space of time you are encouraged to finish any loose ends of your novel. Obviously it was created by minds that shifted towards homeschooler activities.

The Inquisition of Prof. Plumpfront

WARNING!
This story does not have a happy ending. I thought I should warn you so that there would be time to get out a box of Kleenex before you begin. It is(to be blunt)a tale of fear, tragedy, love and blood. Or if you prefer the story of an old man who loved dogs. Whichever description you choose to follow, the reader must know that there is a risk. You might be one of those people who stuff a book in a laundry basket before going to sleep, in fear something will ooze from the pages. To be on the safe side, I propose you read this book in the morning over your cereal. Otherwise, curious things could happen, after all, it is a mystery.

Chapter One: Beginning
Written by Avila M. Dauvin

It happened in London in the pub of The Three-Legged Dog. The members of the Society of Prevention to Cruelty of Yorkshire Terriers(SPCYT)were gathered around a long table, gazing at an old man with piggy eyes, know as Professor Plumpfront, who was about to make the opening speech.
“As you know,” he started hesitantly. He was interrupted by the passing of his Vintage '48 port by an overly dressed waitress. The drink bubbled merrily and several whispered on the unusual color of the Port. The Waitress blushed rosily and made her exit and the Professor began again.
“As you know, I am the owner of a Yorkshire Terrier. Bubbles, I call him. He certainly made my life brighter. Or makes my life brighter!” He guffawed awkwardly over his mistake.
“I do know! That several of these splendid pets are not taken care of...properly. A Yorkshire needs all the attention one can endeavor to bestow upon the dog. Daily walks, baths, grooming. This all depletes ones income considerably. I have found a way to keep ones budget and maintain a Yorkshire Terrier!” He stopped an looked proudly round the room, upon the surprised countenances of his associates. He was about to launch into the explanation of his movement when Mrs. Potter-Hamstreet clutched her throat and fell over her glass. Her husband gave a cry and jumped up to help her. “She's...She's...DEAD!” he cried. “Emily! Emily, wake up!”
All the members leapt to their feet and leaned across the table to scrutiny the spectacle. “It can't be!” gasped Mrs. Grues innocently.
“But it is!” bellowed Ms. Green emotionally. To revive himself, Mr. Hamstreet imbibed the last of his port and started to choke. “Not him!” screamed Ms. Green and she fainted.
“Not him what? Someone, hit his back!” hollered Mr. Bogart. Mr. Hamstreet collapsed on the floor dead. “Its been poisoned!
“Of course it has ninny! Call the police!” cried the organizer desperately. “And no one touch the port!”
Professor Plumpfront looked on in disbelief. It seemed so fake and yet so real. The Waitress sauntered in and seeing the mess of shattered glass and dead bodies, she flung up her hands and started to scream. The Professor slowly came to his senses and and looked at his glass thoughtfully. It had a peculiar taste to it. Like a grapefruit rind. Perhaps it had aged too long in his cellar. He took another sip and rolled his tongue around his mouth.
“Nothing wrong with my port,” said the Professor to Ms. Gardiner.
“Its not, is it?” queried Ms. Gardiner, sneering. “Why then have we three bodies on our hands?”
“Three!”
“Yup. Mr. Blake's dead as a doornail in the lounge.”
“No! It can't be. He was just talking not a ten minutes ago!”
“Yup! And there's the Policeman going over near the offended spot. Aye! Its unlucky!”
“I've nothing to do with it! It must have disagreed with their stomachs.”
“And kilt them?” said Ms. Gardiner skeptically. “Ah, no. Just as well. It was getting a bit boring.”
“My talk getting dead some?” sputtered the Professor. “I thought it was going rather well.”
“For you, it was. Looks as if someone's going to court on trial for poisoning and murdering three civilized...eh...civilians.”
The Professor put his face in his hands and started to weep, drunkenly. His reputation was ruined and he would most likely end at the death row with a bullet in his head. A cry arose from the lounge and Ms. Gardiner, after stepping out announced with gravity that the Reverend Mr. Cotter from the Calvinist Church of Christ was dead. Professor Plumpfront sat down like a man in a dream. Ms. Gardiner took the flowers from the table, muttering something about waste, and left the room. Nothing moved save the port, wavering in the shining glasses and the heavy breathing of Professor Plumpfront.
“All is lost,” he said. “The shelter, Bubbles, and most of all, Bubbles' owner. I never was a smart man.” Mrs. Grues scuttled in and picked up her purse. “I'm dreadfully sorry about all this. I thought the beginning of your speech was very interesting. And oh, I hope you won't get killed. You drank some port but I don't know if that matters now...perhaps you wished you drank the bad port.” Professor Plumpfront looked up angrily but Mrs. Grues had hurried out. The manager of the pub popped his head from behind the door and glared with resentment at the Professor. “I don't know what you mean by this but you ruined my business!” The screams erupted from the crowd of customers, scrambling for the nearest exit. “Get out! Get out! Make way for the police! Out of the way!” A very pompous pouter-pigeon of a man strutted in and shook his head at the Professor. “Nasty business, what? You are under arrest for bringing poisoned liquor to a public pub. Bicky! Take this man to the car and carry away the deceased.”
“Right away, Chief Gefferies. And shall I cuff the man?”
“No. He should be easy. No protest.”
The policeman gingerly took Professor Plumpfront's arm and led him away.
“He's the killer!” spat the bartender crushingly. She flounced her skirts as she sat up on the counter and poured herself a drink.
The ashen Mr. Blake, the red-faced Mr. Hamstreet and his wife, and the Reverend Mr. Cotter were carried out to the horror of on lookers. “Is anyone left in the conference room, Mr. Barkley?” squeaked the attendant nervously. “No one that I know of,” grumbled Mr. Barkley.
“That means yes sine you haven't been in the Conference room.”
“I'll check and thanks, Nurse,” answered the Policeman.
“May I telephone my housekeeper and ask for a spare suit and my toothbrush?” asked Professor Plumpfront meekly.
“That might complicate matters but I shall see to it, old man,” replied the Policeman dabbing a handkerchief over his beaded forehead.
“Much obliged, constable,” murmured the Professor and he sank into a reverie of confusion.
The ambulance squealed and the journalists swarmed. The Professor was far away on an isolated island in the middle of a rough sea.
“Where is the bottle?!” ranted the Chief, red with rage.
“We do not know, sir!” explained the policeman sheepishly.
“It couldn't have flown off, fetch it man or you'll be suspended!”
“But, chief! Its nowhere to be found!” cried the policeman, whose name was Hodge.
“Nowhere! You'll be nowhere to be found if you cannot produce the port bottle!”
“I shall look again sir, but perhaps someone took it away.”
“Ugh!” grunted the Chief.
“I am sorry, I shall look under the table,” said Hodge, shamefacedly.
The Chief nodded and jerked a thumb at the Professor. “I'll take him. Pick you up in forty-five minutes.”
“All right sir. Right ho!” and with that Hodge vanished inside the pub.
“Excuse me, but perhaps you could drop me off at a telephone booth. I need to arrange this matter with my housekeeper. Its rather inconvenient, as its his day-off.”
“He'll learn about it in the papers but I'll oblige you. Theres one on the corner, and I'm afraid I'll have to hear everything you say. Got any spare change?” remarked the Chief impatiently.
“No, I left it all at home. It will have to be fifteen minutes, I'm afraid because all my affairs must be put in order,” said Professor Plumpfront.
“I'll pay and you can put down an IOU. Come one then.”
The Professor punched in the number and grasped the telephone, his knuckles bone-white.
“Sumpter? Sumpter? Its Roger. Can you hear me?”
“Yes sir,” answered a grave and regal voice.
“Listen, I am going to be tried for the murder of four people of my club. I need a pair of pajama's, a pressed suit, a tooth brush, a caruncle, and the Dictionary. You can drop it off at the station. Thank you and take care of Bubbles. He will be dreadfully worried."


To be continued. This is most probably the longest blogpost you will read. This is my performance of the meeting that took place before the Professor was put behind bars awaiting his trial.


















This space could used for your story!
Email: amgdauvin@gmail.com to submit what you think will become of the Professor

All Saint's Day

All Saint's Day is a feast celebrated on the 1st of November to honor all saints known and unknown. According to Western Theology, it is to honor saints who have attained a place in Heaven and have no assigned feast day on the calendar. The choice of day was made to take place of the pagan practice of "Lumeres", which pagans used to awake the restless spirits of the Dead. The tradition of Halloween used to be one where children would dress up as their favorite saints and now it is taking the form of the predecessor, the feast of Lumeres. In England, some Catholics do what they call the Night of Light, in which they celebrate the Tritium of Hallows Eve, All Saint's Day and All Souls Day. Hallows Eve is the feast that begins the celebration of the saints.

Mutual Friend's Plot

I had an idea about a month ago including all of you varlets and lion tamers. By going with the plot below you may finish the story! I will be very interested to see all the different writing styles and I will post all the results for others to enjoy. Hey, it's in good fun and we all have a little wee opening in the weekend...

Professor Plumpfront presides at the meeting of the Society of Prevention for Cruelty to Yorkshire Terriers. He has a speech prepared and is enjoying himself immensely over the '56 port and the company of friends. In the middle of the speech, the butler enters and says the Prof must leave at once. Why?

Make up something original! I think we need good laughs at a time like this, just before the craziness of the election. Go with me here, I am watching the Game Two of the World Series with my grandparents and do not have much to work with. You are not pressured to submit an ending to the story but it shall be highly appreciated. Email your story to amgdauvin@gmail.com. Cannot be more than 100 words unless you are really inspired and can't stop writing;)
This event is open for non members as well. I will post my ending once I rack my brains for a good conclusion for the Professor. Merci beaucoup.

Loss of Syllables

Haiku By Avid

The moon shines brightly
Up over the lake's mirror.
I shall dream moonbeams.

Orange golden rod
Like a mermans shining fork
Under the dark sea.

Follow my secret
Do not tell a single soul.
That includes the Fox!

I ride the blue sky
Over the darkened forest
My bike is my bird.



You have to congratulate me for posting this because I was fearful for my reputation as winning 2nd place at the State Fair for Poetry. Haiku is difficult because you want to describe something as wonderfully as you can and yet only 17 syllables in all to concoct an original haiku. The last one is a bit lumpy.
Haiku consists of first line: five syllables, second line: 7 syllables, and third line: 5 syllables. Usually the first line incorporates the subject. For example, the subject of the first haiku is the moon. Haiku is the Japanese form of poetry. Traditional haiku will include the kigo, or season word. Most haikus will mention nature or natures illusions. Haiku is all about the present moment, a subject that inspired you seconded ago. This is the beauty of Haiku and what makes it original.

Bylines and Headlines

I emailed the local paper here in Sheridan in September asking for a chance to publish anything from a short story to a poem. I just got a response from the editor and my article on the Early Days of Sheridan will be published October 19th! It is very exciting and the editor wants me to do more. My byline is By Student Reporter Avila Dauvin and the headline will be something like Early Settlers Overcome Hardships. Apparently every headline in a newspaper has to contain a verb at least once.

Long before the town of Sheridan was named, it already was one of the largest centers of business activity in West Yamhill. Of the two nearest villages, Willamina and McMinnville, Sheridan had the most fertile soil. It was 16 miles from McMinnville and was then considered as beautiful farmland and pure country.
In 1847, Absolem Faulconer and his relatives settled the North and South parts of early Sheridan. It was the beginning of the town. Thomas Faulconer opened up a general store in 1852 on his brother Ab’s claim. Thomas then opened a livery stable and a hotel in Ab’s farmhouse. The Lieutenant Phillip Sheridan was a good friend of the Falconers, often staying at the hotel when not on duty at Fort Yamhill. Ab honored his dear friend by naming the town after him. This was shortly after Philip Sheridan became a general.
The Willamina post office was started up in Sheridan with Thomas Falconer as first postmaster in 1867. The town of Sheridan prospered under the rod of Absolem Faulconer. The soil gave forth plentiful harvests and the lumber business was never better. By 1894 the population was 400 residents. The lumber business failed when the 150 lumber men of the Sheridan Lumber Company went on strike for higher wages. Sheridan then became the first town in Oregon to have a federal prison. This upped the population considerably.
Sheridan survived four major fires. The worst was in September 1913 when half of the small town was destroyed, including the arch over Bridge Street bearing the name of the settlement. But even through it all, the people of Sheridan started to rebuild the town immediately, figuring new ways to fortify the town against disaster.
All in all, Sheridan was always considered a unified settlement. People came together to construct a town based on a shared way of life.

The editor corrected the article using AP style so a little has been changed from this rough draft.
Are there any other substitute words for ‘town?’ My information came from Wikipedia.

Picture of Sheridan Bridge

Classical High School?

This year I've been pegging away at Iliad, Herodotus, Intro to the Bible, and Latin. The curriculum is from Kolbe Academy and its very challenging. I have four papers due each week on different subjects. I'm learning about ancient Greece. The history is brutal, and I just finished reading about the abduction of Helen by Paris the Trojan. There is such a thing as classical high school education after all. I'm having a hard time dealing with all the assignments I have to do by the end of the week. I haven't started on my paper about the hubris of Croecus and I still have to find out what internal periods are but so far so good. I haven't been crocheting for a long time. My energy is zapped over having the most stressful summer of my 14 years. We finished all the missions, Dad got his CCB, We are living in Willamina, We don't have a library card(!)and we're 40 minutes from the coast and about twenty minutes from the Casino! II will include a paper I did for Theology in this entry. To be graded properly, it needs a strong introduction, a strong body, and strong evidence. Please comment.

What Does It Mean To Say The Bible Was Inspired?
A paper by Avid.

The Bible is an incredible book. It is the only book in the world to reveal God in the person of the Son of Man. It was written through man and not by him giving complete evidence that it was inspired through the apostles. All other books of which we know were written using the thoughts and interests of a people. The Bible relates the thought and parabels of Jesus and the prophets. Another fact is that no man can write a chronology of God. It is beyond their power to capture the mysterious ways of God in words. We know that the Holy Writ was inspired by the Holy Spirit through the apostles from reading of Pentecost. The apostles found themselves aflame with the Word of God and so were able to write down the Life of Christ in a perspective that could only come from God. And yet, we see the different styles of writing. John never mentions his name. Matthew has a great zeal put in his words and Paul writes for the peoples good. (to be continued)

Something Random

Gua, my favorite doll and Angry Pig, one of my latest crochet invention.

And me June 10th at the park. My teeth hurt from braces! I had got them tightened a few days before.

The Bounty of The Promise Land

Acres of yellow headed tansies, waving in the breeze and full of striped caterpillars. We picked them all! And now, everyone is napping or supposed to be because three hours of hard at work makes you appear you exhausted. I didn't wear gloves and so my hands are extremely blistered and swelling at a rapid rate. I should have worn lavender kid gloves and a sprigged bonnet. But it was not meant to be and so my hands are hurting terribly. Ach! They are a pain. The good thing is that the field is clear of any saucy weed and black and red moths can be seen fluttering over the rough sea of grass. I haven't posed since May and my poor neglected weblog is appearing pretty blank this year. we've been having too much fun over the summer despite a sticky situation with the landlords. Happily everyone is happy. I just finished going to a Schoenstatt camp with about thirty other girls. It was too short and too long. By too long I mean the nights. Sleeping with thirty other girls in a high school classroom was a new and tiring experience. All was good. Girls will be girls, and kittens will be cats.

A certain four-year old boy declared he was a little farmer. His face was streaked with blackberries. There are many surprises on the farm. Two month old kittens were seen scampering around the 72 bales of fresh hay.

The land is beautiful. We all have learned that the promise land will yield tansies and when you you are given a patch, pull. (In this idiom, you have to use the muscles in your calves. He, he, he)

Memorial Lesson Learned

Whatever you do this Memorial day, don't wish an old veteran Happy Memorial Day. The response you get from these men of service is, "So you wish I had died." I think it has to do a bit with survivors guilt. Its funny how people take things now, ay? Its became a tradition to wish someone a Happy Memorials Day and you assume they'll be ready with a cheery reply. Anyway this Memorial Day we set up a tent in our front yard, cleaned out the barn-It looks smashing by the way( I am using Canadian terminology:)-and listened to fireworks the night before.  I was wedged between Ess and Abe on the rocky tarp of the tent bottom. It was super uncomfortable, and Karol kept barking at the fireworks. It was an awful first night and I certainly didn't act very christian. Ah well. Try better next time. Ia m so happy there is a Tomorrow, for without a Tomorrow we would be 'guilted' out of our minds. Happy Memorial Day! Take a moment to honor our fallen soldiers who fought for US. 🇺🇸

Sneak Peek at the Mark of the Mafia!

Once upon a time a little girl blew her nose. She was kneeling on the sidewalk with a stub of chalk in her fat hand. It was drizzling on the Italian street. Cornelia Devoy had just finished chalking a circus tent on the sidewalk and it was slowly washing up. The colors ran together and the dancing bear was a black smudge on the red ball.

Cornelia was a homely ten years with short black hair and a flat nose. She had a small scar on her left cheek from a pencil. The only thing that had to be looked at twice in her face were her dark eyes which glinted fire. She lived off the pier in a dirty houseboat which belonged to her obese godfather Uncle Ronald, a flabby relative with fishy blue eyes and beefy cheeks which bulged like a pufferfish(Pardon the awful pun!). He spent his days sitting outside the boat and spitting in the water. How he lived was mostly pillaging the back street dumpsters, particularly behind the bakery where there would be half consumed doughnuts and croissants, and perhaps a slab of cornbread. Cornelia was mute from birth and Uncle Ronald was socially deficient. They got on well.

Cornelia undid her satchel and drew out huge binoculars. She saw a man not fifty yards away draw a black lump from his pocket and transfer it up his coat sleeve. Cornelia put the binoculars in her satchel and followed close behind. Slipping her satchel over her shoulder, she drew out a camera and snapped a photo of the man before he disappeared round the corner. I got it, thought Cornelia smugly. Cornelia unclipped a barrette from her hair and twiddled it in the lock of an office. She locked the door again and scuttled down the acrid hallway. A curling poster of Kiki & Smith Dwarf Show was stapled to the wall. Cornelia rapped on the door. She was by far the shortest spy of the Mafia Resistance. A wiry man with sunglasses and red tendrils wrenched the door open and started. Cornelia crossed her arms. “Sorry, I’m still not to used to the insane idea...the P32 folder of Case 64.” Cornelia handed him the camera film and flipped open the manila folder. it was full of lists and articles. Cornelia looked up. Barney leaned forward and tapped the film on the worn desk. Cornelia nodded, drew out a notebook and began to scribble rapidly.

This is my newest book and it will be coming out Fall 2016. To receive an emailed excerpt please email me at amgdauvin@gmail.com. I hope you enjoy it as much as I have enjoyed writing it!

(This is a picture I drew of a vivid dream I had. It is called, The Birds Reward. I used charcoal and a rubber eraser. It sort of fits in somewhere)