A Neighbourhood

Winter showers lure the Pokebirds out of their hiding-holes and out into their spongy mushroom homes.

See their Bungalows? 

Mushrooms are more comfortable during the wintertime. 

Perhaps the Pokebirds take their tea and toast in the Mushroom-Cap attics...

Watch your step, please.

Thank you for bringing the Pokebirds back, Rain.

I was growing worried.

Sweet Saturday

Last Saturday was spent in the kitchen of the Green-Walled House with the marvelous Miss Gardener. We felt particularly jolly since it was the first day of a weeklong holiday from school and there were no assignments to worry over. (At least for that one day.) We began our day quite leisurely with a cup of tea and a spice cookie.

(Always an excellent way to begin a day)

Our next order of business was to assemble our pudding. It certainly was a very peculiar recipe that produced very peculiar results.The general construction went a bit like this: stir dry ingredients together (quite normal) and plop into a heavy baking dish (splodge, splodge). Sprinkle with copious amounts of brown sugar and butter (two very good things), and pour 500 ml of boiling water on top. Hm. The whole process reminded of putting together fish aquariums by laying the rocks and sand and then pouring in water. Maybe the little drops of butter were the 'fish'.

Into the inferno for thirty-minutes and out came a spice-filled spongey-island in a sea of toffee.
The toffee-sea bubbled quite furiously, and I learned (rather painfully) that
one must never mess with an angry pudding.

The raging waters eventually subsided,

and in we plunged with a spoon.

Lashings of snowy cream melted atop the spicy, sticky sponge,
making dessert quite reminiscent of the thawing winter in February--squashy and brown.

It was very gooey!

And it was very tasty.
It was the tastiest island I have ever eaten.
~*~*~*~

We poured ourselves more tea and had a picnic on the grassy lawn.

A bit of tea enjoyed in the Autumn sunshine always makes afternoons

quite cozy.

(...We also made use of the nearby Boganvia...)

Oh, it was a very sweet Saturday, indeed!

The Very Respectable Crescent Owl

The Post-Man successfully delivered my letter!

The Very Respectable Crescent Owl was first to send a reply. Even though he had to decline my invitation to Sunday's eggy-bread supper, he still sent along the above photograph for your viewing pleasure. (How very thoughtful of him!) This was taken on a recent visit to Green Lawn.

I ought to explain that The Very Respectable Crescent Owl actually has three different names names: The Very Respectable Crescent Owl, Crescent Owl, and Rumskuttle. The first, which is more indicative of his title and breed, is the most formal option and best suited for letter addressing, government proposals, the D.M.V., etc. This name is a wee bit difficult to use in quick conversation due to its length and abundance of R's, C's, and E's. Plus the amount of pauses between each word creates quite a bit of distance between the speaker and the addressee. Of course, saying "The-Very-Respectable-Crescent-Owl" every few sentences will surely help you improve your diction...

The second name—"Crescent Owl"—is a shorter in length and very plainly states what this fellow is: he is a Crescent Owl. (I suppose it is less formal, too, since there is no title of The Very Respectable attached.) "Crescent Owl" is easier on both mouth and lungs—more so than "Theveryrespectablecrescentowl". It produces a nice flow after greetings such as "Good morning": "Good morning, Crescent Owl" as opposed to "Good Morning, The Very Respectable Crescent [gasp!] Owl.". Of course, there are occasions where longer formal names and titles are more appropriate than shorter ones. "Crescent Owl" is more of an "acquaintance name" or encyclopedia name, if ever you were find it in an encyclopedia.

Finally, there is "Rumskuttle". This is the name used by chumlets and family. There actually is quite a bit of history behind this name. The history is connected with the breed of "Crescent Owl" and a bit with the title of "pirate". (I've been trying to learn whether Rumskuttle's one-wingedness comes from the "pirate" or the "crescent".) The account of Rumskuttle's pirating days will be saved for another time since I must talk with him first. Hopefully this has given you some introduction and information on Rumskuttle the Crescent Owl. He's very fine with you using either of the three names, or even variations as long as you never call him "The" or "Rumscentowlectable" or something odd like that. (That sounds too much like the name of a lip gloss or collection of pink stickers..)

I'm off to meet Bunny-Pup for suppertime, so perhaps I shall write about her next.

Cheerio!

First Post!

Hi ho, hullo-hullo!

Welcome to Blog. :) Blog is rather empty at present--though no longer entirely empty since there is one Post. Hopefully more jolly and readable posts will follow First Post. (I hope First Post will not grow too arrogant because it is the very first. Be mindful of this, First Post..)

Speaking of Posts, I have just been to post a letter to the Softies to invite them to Sunday Supper (or perhaps Sunday Pudding). Since they live across the room in The Shelves, which has no telephone system installed, communication via the post is most effective. Long distance shouting is much easier said than done, especially when you're filled with fluffing and about five inches tall. Plus, it is not very polite...

The only semi-tedious aspect of sending mail is properly addressing the envelope:

"Softies of the Shelves:

Sir Chesterbunny of the Cream Ribbon, Bunny-Pup, and the Very Respectable Crescent Owl

Fourth-Shelf-to-the-Left,

Atop Green Treasure Box,

Near Black Ticking Clock

Nevertheless, this addressing grows easier with practice and provides an opportunity for you practice your curly-ques or F-like S's. (If you're going to drastically change the style of your S's, first inform your post-man so he does not go searching for the the Sourth Shels to the Lest or something of that sort.) The post-man often can't read my writing and ends up delivering my letters to Lucy Dear, the old grey Scottie in the second-shelf-to-the-right. This wouldn't be too troubling if it was not for the fact that Lucy Dear has no eyes! (Poor dear. Perhaps there is some deeper meaning behind her lack of eyes; or perhaps it is simply due to my own negligence and lack of thread.) Lucy is a very neighbourly neighbour and would take the misdirected letters to the Softies herself is she could only see where to take them to.

I can only hope the post-man finds the right (left) shelf! Sunday suppers are very important matters of business.

Merry weekend!