Boys Will be Boys

Why is it that little boys are so fascinated with matches?

I don’t know why I was looking out the kitchen window at that particular time but I saw Brent and friends sitting in a circle staring at the centre while Brent was talking. They were all concentrating hard on what Brent was saying and suddenly they all jumped up and ran off in different directions

I smiled and thought “The game has started.

As I carried on with my chores I was vaguely aware that Brent had come into the house but before I could even process the thought the slamming door said that he had gone out again.

A short while later I was in the kitchen again. When I looked out the window I was startled to see that the boys had collected wood and had built a bonfire.

“Not a good idea with this wind,” I thought.

And as that thought hit me I saw a spark ignite an old tree near them. I dropped my kitchen towel and ran to the door shouting “Brent get the hosepipe.”

The boys were moving away from the bonfire and each face reflected my panic. By this time the fire had spread down the garden into the vacant plot behind the house. I realised things were getting beyond my control. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called the fire department. The scared boys clustered around me, horrified at what they had started.

Well all’s well that ends well they say and a group of boys had learned a valuable lesson.

Feed the Birds

 

I watched as the little bird flew around me and then it started flying forwards. I stood quietly watching it. It came back towards me and flew around my head a few times. It flew away from me, turned and flew back towards me.

I must be slow. It did this several times until I hit my forehead and said “Wake up! He wants you to follow him.”

He flew away again and turned around. When he saw me following he flew on, turning around every few seconds to check up on me.

At last we came to a decrepit house standing all alone in a clearing. The bird hovered at the door before flying to the window. He hovered again before flying back to the door. When he went back to the window I followed and peered in. I was horrified to see an old man sprawled on the floor, his leg at an amazing, awful angle. I rushed to the door and tried the handle. I breathed a sigh of relief when it opened. The bird flew in with me and circled the man’s head.

“Hello,” I called from the doorway.

A weak voice muttered “Thank God!”

I rushed to the old man’s side and patted his shoulder. “Let me call for help.”

“No signal.” His voice was edged with pain.

I walked around outside till I got a signal to make the call. I listened to the advice of the young lady on the other end after I had given her the details she required.

I walked back to the cottage. After checking that he was okay I filled a glass with water. I held his head up and held the glass to his lips.

“When did this happen?” I asked.

“At about seven o’clock,” he said. “I always feed the birds at seven. How did you know to come here?”

“A little bird told me,” I replied.

The Healing Touch

I love walking to my grandmother’s house. It is close to but not inside a vast wooded area. It is a small walk from my house to hers so when I was little I was able to walk down the quiet village road all by myself to go and visit granny. I used to pretend I was Little Red Riding Hood (even though I didn’t have a red hood) and I made sure that I kept a wary eye open for any signs of a wolf.

As I passed the last cottage and came upon the field that bordered Granny’s cottage I looked up in anticipation and slowed my pace a bit. Filimore never failed me. The minute he became aware of my presence he galloped up to the fence separating us, nuzzling my arm, and coat pockets in his search for treats. The field belonged to a riding school. I could see the top of its bright red roof at the other end of the field.

Today I had a carrot for him. His eyes sparked interest as I pulled it out of my pocket and he waited patiently until I offered it to him. He took it gently from my fingers. I watched him while he ate. His beautiful eyes, framed by long silky eyelashes seemed to reflect his joy while he ate. As the last bit of carrot disappeared I stroked his muzzle and whispered “Goodbye, see you next time.”

I turned back to the road and carried on walking to Gran’s house. Now as I looked at it, it seemed to resemble the little Gingerbread House. It was painted in a splash of a variety of vibrant colours which reflected Gran’s obsession with art. The porch was frilled with startling white broekie-lace.

Looking at the house I understood why some people may regard her with slight suspicion of being a witch. I suspected that she was a very good witch as she always had help for everyone whether that help was spiritual, physical or mental. She was a thoroughly good woman who was gifted with the healing touch.

 

The Capricious Sea

 

The mood of the sea can affect our moods. The sea is dictated to by the moon. I consist of so much water that the moon and in its turn the sea can affect me. It’s amazing to examine my mood every day and realise that so much of the sea is reflected in me. I think pf myself as a child of the sea.

I am fortunate to live on the beach. The stairs from my verandah sit firmly on the edge of the sand. As I sit on the second step from the bottom, my hands clutch the warm mug and my toes wiggle in the sand and the full moon shines on me, the sand and the sea. The ripples of the sea reflect the silver moon sparks. A total calmness creeps over me as I watch the sea. It seems as if the tide is coming in as the water is creeping closer to my house.

I love living on this almost paradise island. It is safe and it is beautiful but it is also exposed to the vagaries of the sea.

I haven’t witnessed it myself but I have been told that two years before I arrived, a tsunami all but destroyed the entire island. As the people took what shelter they could on the highest ground, they watched the destruction in front of them. Helpless to do anything but pray for their lives.

Industry and tenacity came in to play and by the time I arrived two years later there was no sign of the destruction but everyone has learned to treat the sea with respect.

© Vera Alexander

The Playful Dog

The little dog is running around enjoying his freedom. It is autumn. The leaves are dying on the trees and they are drifting down to make a carpet on the ground.

He dives at the floating leaves, snapping at them, going after this leaf, leaping at that one then running back to the man he loves, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Fred watches his dog with joy that almost matches Rusty’s joy.

For a while Rusty is content to walk beside Fred until he spots another leaf descending to the ground. The wind has dropped so the leaf floats slowly, just out of reach of the jumping dog. A little breeze catches the leaf and a game of tag between leaf and dog starts up. Rusty rushes at the just out of reach leaf and snaps his jowls in an ineffectual attempt to catch the leaf. The breeze gently lays the leaf on the ground. Rusty dives at it, worries it a bit and is then distracted by the next leaf descending. At last Rusty discovers a leaf that will be a fitting gift for his god. He plays with it for a few moments and then trots up to Fred and drops the leaf at his feet. He watches Fred for a moment and when there is no reaction he walks back a few steps then rises onto to his back legs and pretend pounces at Fred. His backside lifts to the air, tail wagging, waiting in excited anticipation for Fred to cooperate.

Fred laughs and says “I can’t throw that! We need to look for a small branch or something.”

The dog watches expectantly as Fred’s eyes roam around the ground. He sees a perfect stick and starts to move towards it. Rusty has been watching Fred and spots the stick before Fred gets to it. It is now a race for the prize. Fred scoops it up almost as Rusty’s open mouth reaches for it. The game is on!

© Vera Alexander

Time

 Life has made a few U-turns with this Covid: Disruptions to family life and friendships have become the norm.

Mother Nature has taken the whip and cracked it several times. Weather has been hot, dry, cold, wet. Storms abound and each time rain appears, Mother Nature uses it to wash the world with her healing touch.

She does not see the false divisions we have set up. She has her own clock and she keeps time with it. To her, all that matters are the 4 seasons and the preparation for each.

Trees follow her and know exactly when to flower or drop their leaves. Underground the roots ready themselves for when they must send up new shoots.

We as humans, need things to be much clearer defined so we have split time in seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years. We studiously follow our plans for each minute, each day and stupidly we put a false designation to our year end and we caper around like idiots welcoming in a new year – just another time span for Mother Nature. We continue with New Year’s resolutions which will be shed a few days, weeks or months into the New Year.

I prefer to set resolutions by the day but look at them as aims and ambitions for that day.

© Vera Alexander January 2021

2020

 

2020 has been a great teacher. It has taught us:

1.    That the earth needs healing. 2 short months of isolation and the world showed immense improvement. We need to remember this and do our best to keep it clean.

2.    That working from home is possible, can be enjoyable, productive and profitable.

3.    To value friends, neighbours and family.

4.    To follow rules to stay safe.

5.    To enjoy alone time

6.    To stop destructive behaviour and  implement positive habits

7.    To meet challenges with equanimity and finally

8.    To accept change.

Unfortunately

1.    Not all students follow the teachings

2.    Many students strutted around with complete and total disregard of their (or anyone else’s) safety

3.    Many students derided their government’s efforts to keep us safe

4.    Many students screamed fake news or conspiratory theories

To those who have lost people to Covid I send my heartfelt condolences.

To those who are struggling with the disease. Take one day at a time and celebrate each small achievement and milestone. Try to use the hard days as stepping stones to the next success.

To those who are caring for Covid patients. My heart goes out and I pray for your strength and immunity.