Nina's Treehouse

THE TREEHOUSE by another name

2006-09-20T20:59:00.000-05:00

They knocked on the front door last week
5 young people, 20'ish most of them
They were students at Melbourne University
Film school
Hearing of a lemon tree that was somewhat famous
It fitted nicely in their latest film
A story of a small child visiting her Grandmother

A story of a Magical Tree
A small child anxious to sample some of this magic
A grandmother anxious to talk and take afternoon tea with a rarely seen child
A grandmother who only allowed the child to
look through the lace cutains ,
until the tea and the lemonade was finished
Then the garden could be accessed through the
large kitchen doors

I will not spoil the story
except to say that filming is a gruelling profession
Taking 10 hours to film this short excerpt.

I am left exhausted with visions of this
small 5 yr old lying on the damp grass
under the aging lemon tree
Looking up in wonderment
Climbing among its gnarled limbs
smelling its sweet blossom
And of course picking its abundant crop.

Sound engineers,camera crew,make up artists
and a director
Then at night the family coming to pick up
their young offspring others to pick up the 20 yr olds
I play a very small part in the film
JUST my feet and apron ....wait for this
As The Grandmother...as I was the only one there
with grey hair and an old fashioned house and an aging lemon tree

Now to those young filmakers the 1960's is the past
This era was the olden times
This was the time they were trying to re create
The 1960's was to them " The Good Times"
I did not agree or disagree
All I can say I was part of their magic
and I shall with the help of Le Enchanteur
put some of it on the site at the end of the year.
The film is judged for their end of year as part of a 3 film set.
.In December as their films are reviewed I will be in attendence at the University....as a guest
not the star of the film
I think this will go to the small child with the look of wonderment on her face as she lay on the damp grass under the aging lemon tree

Lois(Muse of the Sea) 21.9.06

Remembering Summer In The Treehouse

2006-07-15T08:43:00.000-05:00

Butterfly Lady

2006-02-01T12:26:00.000-06:00

The tree house and the forest is filled with magic and beauty. We never lack for food either as wonderful treats of cream and fruits appear out of nowhere. A lovely butterfly woman came down the path. Will she stay or go? I wonder what might be coming next?

2006-01-29T09:32:00.000-06:00

We never know who may show up at the treehouse. Travelers from many parts of the woods are drawn to come and visit. We are so delighted to have this group of rabbit children and a fairy or two joined us for tea. They posed for this picture before they went on their way.

Taking Up a Thoughtful Spot

2006-01-27T10:33:00.000-06:00

Today I will spend in the room with pillows and blankets and books and beanbag chairs. I'm come here for comfort, for reassurance. I've come to lay within the tree, let its branches hold me and whisper to me its wisdom. I will be required to make a big decision in only a few short days, and I need the wisdom of nature to guide me.

2006-01-26T22:18:00.000-06:00

We had some visitors in the treehouse. Two ladies dropped by and they brought along their instruments to entertain us. we all sat back on the pillows and sipped our tea while they played and sang some old folk songs. the warm breezes added to our comfort. what a lovely day.

Faerie Flowers and a Bee

2006-01-19T08:05:00.000-06:00

Emmie Swing

2006-01-19T07:33:00.000-06:00

m'lady cannot she the tree house well,
and would never climb with fear born
of lack of depth perception --

but she can swing in the offered tire below,
while I call down to her from the branches.

papa
..................................................................

May as Well

I think I am going to be happy –
may as well be now –
for any other choice is futile
and does little but to disturb
the awe and wonder of it all.

I think I will laugh and dance a bit –
may as well be now –
for each Child of Light is watching
and they can only learn of life
by seeing how I live my own.

I believe I will set my soul at rest –
may as well be now –
for without this balanced anchor
and simple faith in what I do,
my spirit cannot fly with you.

I know that I can sing in silence –
may as well be now –
for any voice raised in prayer
will merge with the choir of angels
and I will be forever heard.

I think that I will extend a hand –
may as well be now –
for this can be seen by anyone
while my heart is slightly hid,
and my soul but a kiss of time.

I think I will say, “I love you” --
may as well be now –
for you have seen my trembling heart,
and heard my spirit ever sing,
and touched my yearning child’s hand.

May as well be now! Be - now Be – well Be - mine Be ….

Pursilla Joins us in the Tree House

2006-01-18T18:37:00.000-06:00

Pursilla has impecable taste and even in the tree house she insisted on wearing her most beautiful night gown. the rest of us were quite amazed when she made her entrance!

2006-01-14T19:40:00.000-06:00

I love watching the squirrels and I'm sure they would like to visit our Tree House. We can leave them some bread and nuts, but we do have to be careful as they will come to expect food.
this photo was taken by a friend,Marv Berryman of Colorado.

Letters and cards

2006-01-12T11:55:00.000-06:00

Downsizing is just that
To carry less in one’s life

And yet I cannot
Let go of some things

Lynda wrote me notes
Constantly in the seventh grade

I never look at them or read them
But each folded note is a time capsule

of books and bears

2006-01-12T10:08:00.000-06:00

When I was a child I lived in books, discovered at an early age, and was a fluent and avid reader by the age of 7 when I moved up to the junior school and discovered that I had already read most of our set books for the year. I travelled through Narnia, met hobbits, played with the famous 5 and Biggles and the secret 7. As an adult child I have read all the Harry Potter books and particularly enjoyed Philip Pullman's 'his dark materials' trilogy, which I can highly recommend.

But my thoughts led me back to the sycamore tree we had in the garden. It didn't have a house in it but my father fastened blocks of wood on to its trunk for us to use as footholds to climb up into its crown where I could sit with my brother and sister, although not in much comfort.

My greatest joy, however, was my dolls house. It was a rectangular construction with a front panel which you could lift off. It was painted red, with a white balustrade, elegant windows and a porticoed doorway, and when opened it revealed 4 rooms inside. My father papered the walls with paper from books of wallpaper samples. Over the mantelpiece hung a stag's head resplendent with a fine set of antlers which came from a Christmas cracker. A school friend of mine gave me a couple of antique pieces of dolls house furniture amongst which was a tiny glass vase with red and blue stripes on it. The kitchen had cupboards full of miniature cutlery and dishes of food - a strong reminder of Beatrix Potter's story of the two bad mice where Hunka Munka tries to stuff a plate of food, stolen from a dolls house, into the fire grate. Eventually the dolls house grew too small for its inhabitants and Dad made me an annex out of an old fruit crate.

The inhabitants were bears - "Syrian bear" was about 6 inches tall, white with movable limbs and a moveable tail - and "Polar bear" who was about half his size and made of rabbit fur. He slept in a miniature picnic hamper in the annex.

Syrian Bear and Polar Bear used to go on expeditions in my younger brother's wooden toy train set. There was a train and about 4 wagons which you could pull along on a string. With the train loaded up with crockery and food, the bears would go out into the garden to explore the nooks and crannies of the rocks under the lilac tree. We had such fun.

A visit from the Mail Art Muse

2006-01-10T19:52:00.000-06:00

Last night I was thinking of going to bed early when, shezam! the Mail Art muse popped in and I stayed up and made my Mail Art postcard for the snail mail group.
Here it is...

Every kid had a bike

2006-01-10T18:50:00.000-06:00

Since I offered to fix bikes and things at the Manor,
perhaps you should understand how I work ...

papa
.............................................................

BIKE

A kid can't live without a bike, leastwise not back before video games and SUV mothers. Not that we minded walking. There wasn't an alley unexplored, nor building unclimbed, nor big tree not properly housed. But that was way back when I was a kid. Bikes just expanded our universe -- big and small. We didn't just "get a bike" you see, we got special teaching by dad, and careful lessons on changing tires and oiling chains and safety rules. We worked those 'stallions' hard too. -- not just easy road stuff. Stairs and ditches and railroad ties. Dad knew we had better know how to fix 'em.

My daughters had it a bit easier. I settled for having a spare tire already fixed and them just knowing how to change it. I build both of their first bikes -- kinda tradition, I guess. Find a lost memory hanging on some neighbor's garage, scrape and sand, bash and paint -- add a couple of new parts, certainly a seat without spring sticking out. Of course a set of tools went along, and a can of paint for touch-up. Then out to the street for the 'method'!

First came the adjustments to handle-bars and seat -- never just right (on purpose). "That's a box wrench -- this is a Phillips screwdriver." Then came the 'cradle' -- me holding both left handle bar and back of the seat -- "you watch the road!" Down a block then back -- mom waving from the porch. Pretty soon came the 'stroll' -- scary! I let go of the handle bar and just walked behind holding the seat. Talking, pointing out interesting things and tiny dangers. Down and back. Somewhere along they got to put feet on the pedals to get the feel of things. Wobble, wobble -- "it's OK, I'm right here." Finally, of course, comes the 'glide' -- me just standing there in the road watching the bike and girl slide away on their own. It was kind of a game to see how long it took for them to realize, glance back -- and fall down. Inevitable.
"Daaadddyy!"

Well, both girls had bigger bikes after a while and but one 'clunker' still hung on the wall. This little girl comes up, sidling shy. I was placing stones around a new fish pond and not thinking 'bikes' at all. Her name was Kerry, I knew -- down the street and across. "Mr. Muller," she stammered. "Patricia and I were talking about bikes." I had seen my daughter give her a ride. "She said you had one that I might buy -- work something out. 'Course I have to talk to my mom." She just stepped back and waited.

"That took a bit of asking, I suspect," I announced -- settling back in the shade. "Now what did she really say?"

Dimple and tears came together. "I asked her if she might talk to you, but she said I had to do it myself. My dad would if he were here …," she trailed off. I signaled to my two schemers just waiting by the street. They were pushing each other trying to assign guilt, or something.

"All right you three. There is a bike on the wall. It needs a little work. Kerry needs some coaching on care and fixing. Then there is the 'method'. How is this going to work?" They got into a huddle while I pulled down the bike -- one tire flat and the seat loose. I thought the petals might need some blocks. Paint might be all right for now.

"Mr. Muller." I sat down to her height. "They say that I should clean it and learn all of the parts, and that would be best from you. Barb says she will fix the tire and adjust things for me when it is safe. Patricia says she would like to do the 'method'. She doesn't make it sound scary, but isn't sure if you have to do that part too."

"Sounds like a plan to me," I said. "I can have it ready tomorrow and you can have the week end for your share. Of course, I'll need a note from your mom saying it's all right."

"Yes sir. What is it going to cost." Kinda cute the way she stood with her feet set firm and hands on her hips. She was still shoulder carrying small, not all knees and elbows like my bigger girls. My two backed off a bit, perhaps unsure of their having set this all up.

"There is no price," I ventured. "but it may cost you more than you wish to pay. It will be easy to say yes right now, but difficult down the road. It is something you can afford though, without asking your mom for a thing. Deal?"

She glanced at Patricia but got no help there. A stare at the rafters helped even less. I don't think her eight year old self had ever been asked to make a commitment before. She just had to trust, or walk away. "That's my bike you're sitting on," she laughed.

It was fun to watch all three of them race up the street week after week. They grew, and I had a different bike resting on the wall.

Their new ones were all ten-speeds now. Kerry's dad ambled over, sweaty from loading a moving van -- me too from helping. "The kid says I can't leave that old bike behind. Claims we must keep it until we find another little boy or girl to give it too. Says it's part of the 'method'. Doesn't make any sense, but she's a right determined young lady. Then she laughed and said you'd give me some rope to tie it on back. That's why I'm here. She said I had to ask!

Favourite childhood games...

2006-01-10T02:03:00.000-06:00

My favourite game as a child was building houses - odd for a traveller child, but I loved cottages and other people's houses, and I always wanted to live in one.

My favourite kind of house to build was the `bower', which I read about in What Katy Did. Katy and her family always seemed to me to have the best life possible, like the sisters in Little Women, producing plays, magazines and creating new games. To make a bower I would cut branchs and lay them over a sticks in a kind of lean-to hut.

As I mentioned earlier, when I could get bricks I made walls and even sectioned the interiors off into rooms, but I never had enough bricks to build up the walls so it was always just an outline.
I always wanted a pony when I was a child (I was one of those annoying little girls who read the `Jill' books, and anything by the Pullein-Thompson girls, Pat Smythe or Monica Edwards).

Before I got Bikenstein I rode an imaginary horse everywhere, and this was one of my favourite games. I did get chances to ride real ponies when I was growing up, but I have to confess I fell off a lot.

I was another scrapbook nut. My favourite scrapbooks came with a rainbow on the front cover and different rainbow coloured pages inside. I collected anything that looked at all interesting from Mum's magazines and my comics. The comics were another favourite thing - School Friend, Girl, Girl's Chrystal - even the Eagle, which was supposed to be for boys, but I loved Dan Dare.

Every Christmas I got the annuals that came out for the comics, jig saws, board games and art supplies - mainly pencils and sketchpads.

I got my love of crafts from my Dad, who used to sit in the evenings and make fine beadwork or leatherwork. We didn't have a TV until I was about 14, so crafts and the radio were important.
I was never much for sport, but I enjoyed playing wall tennis (where you play with a raquet and ball against a wall) and I loved being near the sea, messing about in boats or rock climbing.

My mother fostered my love of reading by introducing me to all the books she had loved (like Katie and Little Women) and signing us both up to a library chain run by B oots the Chemists, which people who travelled could use because you could return thebooks to any branch. Boots Booklovers' Library introduced me to Enid Blyton, Tove Jannsen, Joyce Lankaster Brisley, CS Lewis and Tolkien, as well as the pony books I loved so much.

Once, when my parents went to Iceland and I stayed with my Grandmother in London, they brought me back American paper dolls - I had never seen anythin g like them. The dolls were modelled on film stars (I think one was Rosemary Clooney) and I was consumed with envy of American children for being able to get such wonderful things.

But in spite of the paper dolls my favourite toys wrere always my huge collection of stuffed animals - my parents friends were always adding to the collection for my birthday and Christmas. It started simply enough with a toy bear given to me when I was a baby. I still have that bear and the one bought the following Christmas. They are very ragged now. But what could you expect, they are almost as old as me!

How to build a house

2006-01-09T15:43:00.000-06:00

What happened to the sweet home you promised?
My fountain of spring water
My trees of shade, where are them?
Where is the full moon I have not seen?
My fading roses, my violets,
All my growing seeds, where are them?
Where will you take me tonight?
Do not take me there until dawn...
Where is it, what happened to the promised home?

Jigsaw Puzzle Addicts

2006-01-09T01:23:00.000-06:00

Online

JIGSAW

PUZZLES!

http://www.jigzone.com/ (click)

2006-01-08T17:48:00.000-06:00

Nebraska Landscape

2006-01-08T17:40:00.000-06:00

Memories of Childhood
By Sylvia K.
After reading Winnie�s wonderful poem and description of a house and a childhood friend, I wanted to add a somewhat similar memory. I am continually struck by how certain memories stick with us. It may not the big events, but some daily activities which left an impression.
I lived in a small town on the plains of Nebraska. The town did have some large Elm trees on our street, but the surrounding area was all farm land with very few trees.

At the end of my block was a large home that had a big wrap around porch. There were big trees to shade the house from summer heat. The couple that lived there seemed mysterious and different from my family. The woman was young, beautiful and quite glamorous in my eyes. Her husband was much older but a quiet man that liked to raise Homing pigeons. He had a pen and bird houses for them in the yard.
During the summer, a niece of the young woman would come from another town to visit. Her name was Suzanne and she had long braids and I thought she was very pretty. We would play together and at this time I got a chance to go in the old house. It was dark and cool in the summer. The lady was sewing and she used Vogue Patterns. My mother used only Simplicity or Advance.
The upstairs had a wide hall with bedrooms on each side. I was impressed because we didn�t have a second story on our house.
Suzanne and I played with dolls and paper dolls and made up shows. We did many of the things young girls did in those days.
The beautiful lady lost her husband as he was so much older.
She married a younger man and moved away.
I do not know what happened to Suzanne either as we all went on our separate ways. Yet, the old house and the stylish lady left an indelible impression on my memory and influenced my interests to this day.

Used to be a game

2006-01-08T11:12:00.000-06:00

When I was 12 or so, my brother, a friend Dan
and I would sit together in a church pew,
select a hapless victim a row or two ahead,
and stare at the back of his neck. Sometimes
it worked alone, but often took all three of
our innocent hooligan minds --
soon the person would start to figget and squirm
and often turn about. We would do it at the bus station too,
and people would get up and search around,
but would ignore us kids.

All we did was say, "hello", but I guess
it wasn't really right -- so I don't do it any more ...

besides, now people carry guns and things.

Always Been Creative

2006-01-08T07:51:00.000-06:00

I sat and thought about games I used to play as a child. Nothing came readily to mind. I couldn’t think of a single one. You see I was an only child for the first 6 years of my life and my parent’s friends didn’t have young children. My father was in an Irish folk band – The Quarefella’s – and I was taken along to all the gigs. I had the usual assortment of dolls and stuffed toys, my favourite being monkeys.

But as I sat and thought, I knew that there had to be something that occupied my time. It was then that I remembered the scrapbooks. My mother bought me scrapbooks, scissors glue and project packs. They had pretty pictures to cut and paste. I even had paper dolls to dress in pretty paper dresses.

My parents owned a unit in the city. I remember when tenants moved out my mother would go in and clean it before tenants moved in. She took me along, armed with my scrapbook supplies, to keep me occupied for hours at a time.

So it seems I have always been creative – my mother even nurtured that creativity – although there have been lapses over time, after my mother read my diary in my teens I didn’t keep a diary or a journal again until I was in my 20’s, now I keep them regularly and have many volumes.

Make Riversleigh

2006-01-07T18:22:00.000-06:00

Velida sent me these wonderful images. You can print this out and make Riversleigh using this template or come up with one of your own. If you do create one of your own please share it with us all.

A Game of Pretending

2006-01-07T00:19:00.000-06:00

When I was young my favourite game was to daydream about being somebody else. Mostly, I would pretend that I was someone pretty and famous. About that time the movie 'Grease' was released and one of my favourite guises was the character Sandy Olsson played by Olivia Newton John. In my childish fantasies, I imagined that she had discovered a pure love in Danny Zuko (John Travolta). I enjoyed the thought that a popular, good-looking man was in love with me and that we would live happily ever afer. In my daydream, I would act out love scenes. They usually began with my feminine character being in some sort of distress and would end with me being rescued (emotionally or physically) by a strong but gentle man.

This wasn't a game that I shared with any of my sisters because I wanted to protect my inner most thoughts.

You Never Know What You'll Find

2006-01-07T00:14:00.000-06:00

Today I looked out one of the treehouse windows and I found the most interesting nest of eggs. Looks like the forest will be having quite a birthing! In your tree climbing, be careful of this bountiful nest. We wouldn't want the eggs to crack before their time.

Mail Art

2006-01-06T04:45:00.000-06:00

Some people think that you should keep the scrap cupboard for a rainy day but I think that working in the scrap cupboard, with a friend, is a lovely artist date.

When I come to the Treehouse I will make crumpets and hot chocolate and we can sit around writing snail mail, covered with delicious art work, to each other.

I love snail mail and always 'intend' to write more letters that tell the recipient absolutely nothing of any real importance. I remember spending idyllic hours making covered notebooks for a couple of friends as I lounged around our tent at Narooma.

If anyone is interested in sharing some snail art mail with me just let me know. It could be fun to send mail where we wear our nationality on our sleeve.

Magpie Leanings - Collecting and Creating

2006-01-06T01:25:00.000-06:00

I have been out collecting pine cones. Ever since

childhood I have collected this and that, and used to

record things in diaries, on pages, etc. What fun it was.

I come from a big family and there was always

someone to play with. We played make believe until

it was dark in summer and never, ever, wanted to come

back inside. Never enough time for creativity and

collecting, exploring and make believe. It was so

much fun. I've loved reading other's posts here too.

Fond childhood memories all round.

Ghosts in the Graveyard

2006-01-05T17:47:00.000-06:00

My favorite game was Ghosts in the Graveyard--I recall playing it very late on a summer's night, under a blanket of stars in a dark sky. We lived in the country, and neighbors weren't close by, so it was a rare occasion that there was a group of kids large enough to play. Everyone would hide but the "Gravekeeper" who would wander the yard. At a crucial moment, ghosts would leap from their hiding places, screaming in a frightful fashion--"Ghooooosts in the Graaaveyard.......Ghoooosts in the Graaaveyard!" and try to run to "home base." If the Gravekeeper tagged you, you were It for the next round. It was deliciously spooky and especially fun to hide with someone, so you could both leap out, split the Gravekeeper's attention, and make it safely home.

I Had Books, Too.

2006-01-05T09:55:00.000-06:00

We lived in the country and I didn't have playmates so I made my own fun. I had books, too, which I read voraciously. And then, I'd go out into the fields and woods and re-enact the adventures I had read about. I was always alone, but I was never lonely. The trees, and the animals kept me company and to this day I'm able to enjoy my own company though I like being with people, too.

Vi

Giggles and Awe

2006-01-05T08:47:00.000-06:00

Welcome, Guests! I'm glad you found your way to the treehouse. Nina has been enjoying your stories. She alternates between having eyes as big as saucers followed by fits of giggles. You've given her so many ideas she doesn't know where to start! Her list of things to do include:

• Collect pine cones to paint and decorate the treehouse
• Climb to the platform at the top of the tree on the next cloudless night and get lost in the stars
• Search magazines for people and clothing to cut out for paper dolls

She also promised that if she should ever get a doll's pram, she would use it to bring more fun things to the treehouse.

Today is bright and sunny and Nina has taken a break from her pine cone search to swing on the tire swing. She imagines her feet touching the highest branches as she swings forward and her back caressed by leaves as she swings back.

Books of the past

2006-01-05T08:39:00.000-06:00

When I was a child my favorite thing was not a toy, but books , I loved to read .
On a warm summers day I would grab a book , and head outside there was an old tree in our yard. It had lots of wide low branches and one of them curved prefectly to form a seat of sorts.
I would take my book and climb into the seat of the tree. Here I was protected from the world. and was safe to travel where ever the book wanted to take me.
Usually I was solving a mystrey with Trixie Beldon, or The Hardy Boys, or maybe on some dangerous Space mission with Tom Swift.
I still love to curl up with a good mystrey.

What fun

2006-01-05T07:48:00.000-06:00

GREAT...I have wanted to come visit you and now I have an invitation. Childhood game ! Mine was not a game but an old suitcase I use to drag out every day to a huge lilac bush. Once settled there I would open the suitcase which also opened an entrance into pretend world. The suitcase was filed to the brim with movie star paper dolls. Rita Hayworth, Heady Lamour, Doris Day, Dwebbie Renolds, and many more. I spent hours, alone, under the lilac tree changing costumes and prancing them through a world of my imagination. Must have been preparation for Lemuria. . When I entered 7th grade my suitcase disappeared. I felt like I had suffered a great loss and still wish I had those original paper dolls.

The Doll's Pram

2006-01-05T05:54:00.000-06:00

I hope Nina likes this story. Like her, I loved building treehouses and hideaways when I was young.

Day after day I hungered for it. My footsteps slowed as we passed the shop window, my arm stretching as I dragged my mother to a halt.
It stood right in the middle of the shop window, gleaming blue and silver, shaped like a small boat, with a silky hood and lining.
``She really wants that doll’s pram,” I heard my mother whisper after she had put me to bed.
``We’ll see,” my father replied, and that was as good as a promise.
As my birthday approached, my excitement grew. The pram had disappeared from the shop window, and I was certain it was already mine.
While my mother hung out the washing in the yard we were camping in at Dalkey, she watched me working on my house. I had been building it for ages, laying out bricks for the walls, and making little rooms for my dolls and teddy bears. I already had the kitchen and one bedroom finished. I got the bricks from a shed that had been demolished on the farm, and the house was furnished with things I had scrounged, old chairs, a rickety table, a rug my mother had been planning to throw out. I intended to cover the house with branches, like a bower or a thatched cottage.
My mother worried about me. She would have preferred me to enjoy more sedate and ladylike pastimes than mucking about with bricks and home made mud mortar.
My birthday dawned, and I scrambled out of bed, eager to unwrap my presents. My mother had made a knitted suit for my favorite bear, and of course, there were books. My parents were great believers in books for children.
After breakfast, my father took me outside and there was the pram, gleaming in the sunshine. I wheeled it up and down, reveling in the smooth gliding motion. It was so light and easy to push.
My mother produced a pram quilt and pillow she had made and set one of my dolls in the pram with them. She was beaming, plainly happy that at last I was behaving like a proper little girl.
She was sitting on the back step shelling peas when I next sailed past with the pram. She glanced up and smiled at me, then went back to her work.
Ten minutes later, I passed her again, and she was shelling peas in a big cream coloured pottery bowl.
Ten minutes later, when I again went past with the pram, she said, ``My, your dolly is getting a lot of exercise.”
As evening fell, my father came home and stopped to see how my house was progressing.
``Where did all these bricks come from?” he said. ``You must have been working hard today.”
My mother came out and shook her head at me. ``Look at you, covered in mud again. I hope your new pram is still clean.”
Then they both looked at my new pram, standing proudly outside my house.
And they both saw that it was full of bricks.

More than a game

2006-01-05T04:52:00.000-06:00

In pre-TV youth my siblings and I
made games of many simple things --
blocks and cards and role-play,
but the 'most fun' of all was lying on the grass
making things of the stars --
which at 6,000 ft on the desert were/are
more than this world will ever see again.

Sadly a game that I cannot give to my grandchildren,
except in story and gasp in my heart.

back then ...
..............................................................

Treble Tremble

Three may not be a magic number, but is somehow infused into the pulse of life and spirit and dreams in ways both simple and profound. Without caressing any ancient blend of religion or occult or kiss of Mother Earth, one only has to count. The first beat sets the power and intensity of the message. The second stroke defines the pace and meter of the plan, perhaps in heady climb or somber drop, or heartbeat sure. The third comes in anticipation, and signals the launch of a dream, or death to pain and sorrow, or just dawning of my soul. "a one, ana' two, ana' three!" The song has begun. Birth -- death -- infinity. Everything can be defined in threes.

We stretched out in the meadow, my brother, sister and I. Our arms outreached to feather touch fluttering fingers of delight. Legs akimbo, we might have resembled a De Vinci sketch, but more likely snow angels defined in long gone virgin drift. Two forms would not have formed a circle, and four would have broken the symmetry of our sibling bond. The grass was still sunset warm beneath our T-shirt backs, and the evening breeze had not yet drawn away the clover scent of deep summer. The occasional shiver came from anticipation rather than a drop in temperature measure in growing cricket chirps. They came!

To a child of today, even on the highest desert peak, one cannot describe the sweep of heaven pressing down on tender, budding youth. The thunder of stars was not a sprinkling of a love song, nor a few chance remembered constellations of mythology. Above our misty eyes swept a symphony of God's smile and splendor; an undulating, glistening milky gleam of pure delight. An extended thumb could not find a space without a twinkling sigh. A single pair of wandering eyes could not encompass or endure the panorama of shock and wonder -- it took all three to absorb and transmit in primordial humanity's gift what is ours by right. The message was simple -- "even as I made thee, I made these!"

That night my blinking vision became confused as the star spread seemed to ripple in a most silent pulse. None of us dare breathe. A drifting shadow pressed down to hold us transfixed beneath the gifted display. A demon to posses us? A witch's curse or some occult born attempt to draw our human clay away from the divine glimpse of His passion? Again, and again the passing form sucked up the hidden chirps, and chatter and kiss of wind in the trees. Absolute absorbing silence. Then the giant owl, with only the slightest flutter of fairie wings decided we were unworthy, and drifted to a better ground not protected by our yearnings.

Two wonders viewed in one night -- was it not meant to be three? Ah yes! You see, even now, a half century passed, I cannot look into my sibling's eyes and hearts without being pulled back to a stroke of innocence, and the smile we share through our tears.

faucon

TIMES AND GAMES OF OLD

2006-01-04T19:41:00.000-06:00

When I was but a tiny tot
Toys were scarce,not ever new
Recycled,repainted,pre owned by friends or family.
Dad hid them in the shed
Where he repaired them lovingly
A tricycle ,a dolls pram, a scooter, a fire truck
We loved them all
I laugh when I look back
As a boilermaker, he was wont
to use steel for brackets and re-enforcing
So the pushing,peddling, was always a hard task
It did not take away from their enjoyment
as most children in MY street had the same
If one had a new toy then all would gather
in a large circle to ooh and ahh

The 30's and the 40's were very different times
As were the 60's and 70's when my children were born
As I look at the 2000's I am in awe and wonder
The selection,the amount,the variety,the abundance
startles me as children dart from one to the other
No puzzles to work out,no meccano sets to ponder over
The world moves in mysterious ways
I don't even try to understand.

At Christmas time we went by train and diesel carriage
to an old house in a country town at the bottom
of the Great Dividing Range in Victoria ...
My Paternal G/Father had bought it...
A very old timber house..falling down
He called it Necton after the village of his birth
down Norfolk Way.....
We travelled lightly a small bag each
No toys,
too heavy to carry
Perhaps just a favourite teddy bear or small metal toy
for my Brother
We made Christmas gifts for Mothers,Fathers,Cousins,Aunts and Uncles
Grandfather Sydney Craske was always given a bottle of beer
We covered matchboxes with coloured paper,filling them with sweets
We painted pine cones,we decorated wooden dolly pegs
We walked into the town to buy
Combs,handkerchiefs,loose boiled sweets,and loose chunks of(Cooking) chocolate for melting
We washed small jars for gifts of lollies,shortbread,rocky road marshmellow

The old farmhouse had a huge big timber table
in the room we cooked in,ate in bathed in, ironed in etc etc.
We spread out brown paper and went to work under supervision.
My Aunty Jean had once worked at Darrell Lea chocolate factory in her youth
So she and Jessie(Mum), Hilda(Aunt) taught us the tricks of the trade.
The little ones licked the bowls and spoons
The big room had only a wood fire stove for cooking, and it
became hotter and hotter as we toiled away....
All must be completed by the 24th
Dad (Bert) Gran and Cliff (Uncle)Siddy (Uncle)
All stayed well away.
Sometimes sitting under the huge pine tree that dwarfed the old farm house
Beers in hand ,broken pieces of shortbread ,cheese and bread
Or often they went rabbiting
to see what they had caught in the traps set the night before.

We children were not allowed to go as we became too upset at the
death of a rabbit ...although many a roast, and pie ,and stew was eaten by us all...the meat of the bunny was sweet

I see the cousins I spent those wonderful Christmas's with now and again...some 2 or 3 times a year
Often at weddings, but mostly at funerals as we all age
We embrace as we did in those times,glad to see each other,
although our lives have gone in different directions.
We do reminis ..and eventually comparing the lives of their children and their grandchildren
TO THE HAPPY, WONDERFUL, TIMES WE HAD ALL TOGETHER
at Necton in Whittlesea.....

Lois (Muse of the Sea) 5.1.06

Nina's Treehouse

2006-01-01T19:44:00.000-06:00

Would you like to visit Nina's Treehouse? It's very easy to get here. The journey isn't too long and there are no steep hills to climb. Just step off the back porch of Riversleigh Manor and you'll see a path off to your right that leads into the woods. Follow it a little ways.

Once you notice the forest becoming a bit more dense, you are almost there. At this fork in the road, take the path to the right.

Keep walking until you see a bend in the path that opens up to a lush clearing. This clearing is Nina's front yard. See how beautiful it is!?
Call up to Nina as you approach the treehouse. She'll be happy to show you the many ways to get up into the house.
You can go through the big red door in the tree and be magically transported up.

Or you can climb a rope ladder or a spiral staircase.

Either way, you'll be delighted when you reach the treehouse in the redwoods. Magic and fun await. Come on! What are you waiting for?

The photos in this entry were provided by photographers on Flickr who share their photos when given attribution. The treehouse image is a combination of two photos and Nina's own drawings. You can see more of these photographer's images at Jantik, Pikaluk, Dnorman, Katemina, Dailydog, and Evdaimon.