How About Some Poetry???  hmmmmm? Here you go!

First Light 

Sailors gather at harbour’s first light.

With shared anticipation, they wend to a new land.

Cool nights and long watches

ETA thirty days.

Days, nights, blur to weeks, then a month.

Dawn breaks; day thirty-five.

Night watch is at end.

Sun warmed air

Breezes build.

Salient waves push up from the sea.

Sinking into damp bunk, awaiting sleep;

my inner light abrades.

Dusk demands a new watch.

A meal shared.

Cupped hands scoop fresh filtered water to parched lips.

Small sups, rations hold.

All hands on deck pan seas where skies meet.

Eyes ache with want.

Hopes unravel.

Off-watch disappears below.

Night world is distinct.

Sight muted – sounds engulf space.

Waves lap aggressively against complacent hull.

Wind through rigging echoes where an hour ago, lay silent.

“Pop” – sails balloon over each wave crest.

Sanity within earshot; out of reach

Surf down wind, whether helm or bow.

Fifty feet; not far enough to achieve separation.

No privacy on a floating villa.

No room for free will.

Listen intently to the night.

On guard to its oddities.

White dawn bursts.

We eat up our own shadow.

Dark departed, forgotten.

Exhausted - communal meal, escape to hide below.

All aspire to spot first port.

Mirage? Reality?

Beckon new watch!

All eyes on horizons peer.

Wind holds breath tight.

Silence explodes.

Garrulous crew spew speculations.

Mirage is reality!

Warm tickle of delight envelops.

Spirits inflate.

Land across a body of water,

Inspiration to coalesce.

Summer is busy.. will try to get back soon.

....something to think about...

Children learn extremely well through modelling and encouragement. 

If they can see, touch and play with their learning tools, they will learn more fully and wholly.

If we are not allowed to play with our work, experience its abilities and limitations;

we will not learn about our own abilities and limitations. 

We are not born judgmental, of ourselves or others - 

younger children need encouragement to accept their work, whether they feel happy, sad or indifferent toward it;

older children (and adults) need encouragement as well, but even more importantly,

they need to learn how to ask their "inner judges" to take a holiday.

I believe that everyone has creative talent and can learn if they are nurtured, supported and

given the opportunity to practice.

Teaching in the arts is special as you can encourage and nurture people to reach inside themselves;

and have them pull out their creative energies while giving them tools to express and play with.

Art allows us a forum to play with color, form and energy in a way that can be fun, healing,

and sometimes profitable.

Children need to learn that being an artist can also be a career choice.

Mrs. Perrycratchet  ...the conclusion

“Prince Edward Island,” I started – gotta start somewhere. I was felling loads of sympathy for all those kids who lived in the United States. Twelve places were bad enough.

“New Brunswick,” that’s the first place off the ferry – The Mainland. First stop on our way to Ontario.

“Ontario!” .. now what’s in between? Montreal, no that’s not the province, Quebec City, Oh Ya!

“Quebec,” Now, I missed some of the maritime provinces – cape Breton.. um.. um

“Nova Scotia,” and who can forget our Island neighbours.

“Newfoundland,” Now the hard part – West. Start at the coast. Vancouver Island, No that’s not the Province – Oh no, maybe a Prairie Province. Wait, don’t panic. How many more?

“How many more please?” I inquired.

“Four more provinces and two territories,” Mrs. Perrycratchet informed me.

Go to the territories, I tell myself – Yukon Korneilous!

“Yukon Territory,” and North something – closer to BC, Aha!

“British Columbia” That’s west – so it’s got to be…

“North West Territory,” just the prairies left. They’re the worst. Ok, I can do it – remember the code. Uncle SAM. S.A.M. S first, easy.

“Saskachewan,” I was getting dizzy. I wondered if I was remembering to breathe. Two more to go. A – got this one.

“Alberta,” One more to go – I could see it there in my mind – smack in the middle, M, M, the man in the middle! Ya!

“Manitoba,” I exhaled and smiled – wiped my hands on the sides of my dress.

“Well done Wanda,” Mrs. Perrycratchet beamed.

I couldn’t believe it. I passed the test – I did it. I could proudly finish my grade three year with the knowledge that I would pass into grade four knowing all the provinces and both territories. I tried not to think of my sister practicing all the capitals and how I would have to do it next year.

As I sat down, Betty stood up and prepared to recite her ticket into the forth grade, or so it seemed to us. I felt how unfair it was that I had to go first. Then as I heard her voice quiver – I felt renewed sympathy for her and crossed my fingers, silently rooting her on.

... stay tuned for more random readings...

"Mrs Perrycratchit" continued...

One really hot afternoon, it must have been late June. There was lots of chatter about only days left until summer vacation. Missy bragged about going to camp. Fran and I, that's my sister - she's was in grade four and already knew her provinces - would be making the drive with our parents to the other end of the Island to spend a month with our Gram Jackson. I always looked forward to our summer vacation there. Especially the fried bologna and bannock breakfast cooked on the wood cook-stove. Yum Yum.

My longings were cut short by the voice of Mary Perrycratchit "Wanda! Stand Please."

My heart was in my throat, my palms dripped with sweat. I started rehearsing to myself, P.E.I., New Brunswick...oh god, I knew she was going to ask me.

"Ok Wanda, Please recite the names of Canada's 2 territories and 10 provinces."

I could feel my knees weaken and I almost asked if I could sit down to recite. The pressure was so great it was almost unbearable. I remember thinking ‘I know this - I can do it.’

...  stay tuned to see if Wanda can come through!!

Welcome to the beginning of another tale...  enjoy.

“Mrs. Perrycratchit”  by Lana Butler

As a child, I lived in Prince Edward Island, Canada. There was no kindergarten, everyone started school in grade one. School was for learning, not socializing.

Mrs. Perrycratchit was my grade three schoolteacher. She was round and shiny and cleared her throat a lot. She had dark hair that hung down the center of her back. It was always kept in a braid, with a brown rubber band at the bottom; then the braid was wound round and round itself until it formed a neat little bun. I am sure it was held there by will.

She would walk up and down the aisles with her hands behind her back and her ½ spectacles down low on her nose. She took care to look at everyone's desk. Mostly smiling at each girl and frowning at each boy.

She always chose a favorite student at the beginning of the year, named them "Teacher's Helper" and bestowed upon them the menial classroom jobs that she had no time or no desire to do; sharpening pencils, cleaning erasers, watering plants. Her one ambition in life was to make sure each child that left her class could name all of Canada's ten provinces and the two territories. (Which is all there were, when I was a child)

... (to be continued)

And now for something much lighter...  and a completely different genre...  Children's Literature anyone?
Beginning Texts for a picture book

"Willowmeena's Garden Guest"

...by Lana Butler

Willowmeena loved worms. Especially one big worm. She loved it so much that given a whole garden of worms, she could pick Fred out right away. Fred, of course, was her worm.

Fred was no ordinary worm...no way. He was bigger and fuller than any worm Willowmeena had ever known. She found him in the garden last spring when Mom started planting the vegetables. When she picked him up, he wiggled so much that he filled her whole hand and made her feel all tickly inside.

The tickly feeling made her squeal and put Fred down in a hurry. Willowmeena thought Fred was the greatest garden friend ever. This was going to be her second garden and she noticed that Fred and his friends had all returned to celebrate the new spring. Fred did have a great many friends.

Willowmeena had many questions about Fred and the garden. How do you tell if a worm is a boy or a girl? Mom sometimes had difficulty answering Willowmeena’s questions but she did have an explanation for Fred's size. She told Willowmeena that Fred got really big from eating the good, rich dirt that the composter made for the garden... from all last year’s organic waste.

Willowmeena decided to see just how big Fred was. She laid him by the side of her foot and stretched him out, ever so gently - his head at her toe and his tail at her heel - or maybe the other way round...it was sort of difficult to tell just which end was which sometimes.

Willowmeena wanted to be bigger like Fred - so she tried a little garden dirt too. It was a little gritty at first -

Willowmeena could hear scraping noises when she chewed. Mom was not impressed, she made a "yucky" face at Willowmeena. Willowmeena didn't think it was so bad, sort of like potato skins or unwashed garden carrots she said. Mom asked if she was hungry and gave her an apple.

Willowmeena liked the apple better then the garden dirt. She thought maybe Fred would too. She found Fred and tried to give him a bite of her apple. Mom told her Fred would like the apple better after it started to

Decompose. Mom said that means turn back into soil. So Willowmeena ate her apple and left the core, with one bite left on it, in Fred's corner of the garden.

Willowmeena looked for Fred every day when her and mom played in the garden. Some days he was under the dirt making food for the garden plants. On those days, Willowmeena played with his neighbours, the slugs and "potato bugs". Mom said she couldn't remember the bug’s real name but Willowmeena thought

"potato bug" suited this little bug just fine, since it looked just like a little potato to her.

Near the end of the garden season, Fred was nowhere to be seen. Mom said Fred was getting ready for winter. Willowmeena imagined Fred sorting his winter clothing, storing little packets of compost bits to snack on all winter, and insulating his bedroom to stay warm.

During the winter, Willowmeena thought about Fred. When they made their Winter Soups and Stews, Willowmeena always remembered to put the skins and peels in the compost so Fred would have fresh dirt next spring. She wondered how big he would be after all his winter snacking, maybe from her heel to her toe and around the front of her foot. She knew he would not get much exercise...it would be too difficult to chew through the frozen ground.

When the snow finally melted and the rains came, Willowmeena could hardly wait to start the garden again. Mom said that Fred might not choose their garden to live in this year and not to get her hopes up too high.

Willowmeena was not worried. She knew that her garden with its rich compost dirt and Sunflower and Basil plants to discourage pesky bugs, would be just what Fred was looking for in a garden. Besides, it would take

too long to crawl to another garden and his mom and dad would miss him too much if he left.

When Mom started turning the dirt over to start the planting - Willowmeena was right there, knees in her ears, watching for Fred.

Willowmeena squealed that familiar worm tickle sound and Mom turned to look. Willowmeena held up two hands. "Look Mom! Fred brought guests for lunch - can I have two apples for snack today?"

Mom shook her head, smiled and held out her arms, inviting a hug. Willowmeena giggled as she landed in Mom’s arms. "Oh Willow, I love you."

And now.. the conclusion of ... "Be Careful What You Wish For"  

“He’s early!” She mused as she went to the door. Expecting Billy, she flung the door open wide and stepped aside with a come in gesture. It was Monty, and the silver Cadi was in the drive. She had one brief moment of panic followed by a deep lust for this gorgeous creature that was now in her front hallway. She closed the door behind him and asked him if he would like to join her for a drink.

“What are you drinking?” he inquired.

“The most delicious red wine cobbler in the world,” she announced.

“Then I will most certainly join you,” his eyes were saying more then his mouth, but she was having difficulty hearing anything.

Bev gathered her glass on the way to the kitchen. She retrieved some ice and fruit from the fridge and poured the remainder of the open bottle into a glass for Monty.

She turned to find him standing close behind her in the kitchen. She handed him the glass.

“Cheers,” she said raising her glass to him, “to your health.”
“Cheers,” he followed her salute, raising the glass to his open mouth.

Bev felt she already knew him intimately and there was nothing odd in them standing in the kitchen drinking wine.

“What kind of wine was that?” he asked, lowering his empty glass.

Bev looked at his glass; all she wanted to do was slide her tongue into his beautiful mouth. Her mind was getting foggy.

“Elderberry wine, Monty, can I freshen your glass?” She didn’t wait for a response, took his glass. Finishing hers, she turned to the counter where the full bottle sat. She poured both glasses and handed one back to Monty.

“Shall we sit with this one?” Bev steered them to the living room couch.

“What brings you to my home this fine day, surely you did not intend to come drink wine with me?”

Monty narrows his dark eyes over the glass and drinks his red nectar.

Bev melts into his gaze and follows suit with hers.

“I have been waiting to share this drink with you,” Monty voice echoed in Bev's ears.

Bev set her glass down onto the table. She was not sure if she heard him correctly. Did he know she used the herbal potion in the drinks? Did he want true love too?

Monty took her face into his hands and pushed his tongue into her mouth, hard. She was both excited and a bit repelled. She tried to lift her arms to either hold him or push him away. Her arms did not respond. She could hear Monty’s voice at a distance now. The room was a bit hazy.

“You might have taken a little too much of that potion #1 Beverly, now you’re not going to be able to help much, are you?” his laugh distorted in the hollows of her mind. She heard the click of the front door lock. Then his voice was much closer.

“I’ll help you,” she heard his voice, as in a dream, her body was lifted and fell over his shoulder. She saw the floor go by as she was transported out of the room and down the hall. Doors whizzed by.

She heard a bell and remembered Billy. In her dream bubble she called his name, she could not hear her voice. Did she need help? Was Monty going to make love to her? She felt her body fly through the air and land hard on the bed. There was a moment of no air in her lungs. Through the haze, her cloths were being torn and thrown about.

She heard Monty’s voice and felt a heavy weight upon her, “I’m gunna show you some ‘true love’ now Beverly”

The bell rang again. She cried in her mind, ‘Oh Billy, help me.’

The bell rang again. She closed her eyes but could not close her body. In her mind a voice echoed, “Be careful what you wish for.”

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