Happy Hallowe'en Views and into November

 Here we are in my favourite month of the year. Clear, grey, empty expanse of a month that revels in its calm before the neon explosion of Christmas! Who will be blogging everyday this year? I think I might. It's become my catching up month. My catching breath month. My Forest of Toon Tellegen month!

 I went into Mattman's room to snap the glorious golden foliage of the tree outside his window, but it's all gone!

 The Argory have expanded their forest playground. Lots of things for adult children to try as well!

 And beautiful textures and colours all around.

 This was the walled garden on Thursday. I could not believe the heavy fragrance of the roses at this stage in the year. It really has been the warmest Autumn I certainly remember.

 It all made me think of the box of green wool that constitutes most of my limited "stash". I love having a blanket on the hook through the winter, and I'm thinking of an Argory Blanket- all greens with rows of brown and gold?

 More colour at the Ulster Museum's fascinating exhibition on the periodic table. I had not one inkling of scientific comprehension at school. But I'm making up for it now!

 Today I am gradually packing away all the orange; more quickly than these mild days are allowing the garden to do! I am also picking up lots of sweetie wrappers and lolly sticks after an impressive haul brought home by a house full of trick or treaters last night.

Hallowe'en is really quite controversial here among people of faith. We've always tried to steer an Autumn-celebrating line that nonetheless allows guests to dress as witches or be gruesome if they so decide. There is trick or treating, we laugh and gurgle our way through ducking for apples, we have food and fun and friends. We generally jump at any excuse for a party! I'm not sure that I would warn my children from the ways of the occult just by forbidding them to take part in any of the above. I wonder would I be more effective at building up their spiritual armour by being more patient, more joyful, more faith-ful all year long?

Are you sitting comfortably?

I'm going to tell you a story. It is the story of The Beds That Went Out in the Snow. It is not a picture story because I still cannot get pictures to work. This may well be the end of fraise, and it distresses me beyond measure. So here is the beginning of the end. It is actually the beginning of the end of the Land of the (sometimes tearful) Strawberries anyway, but that's The Moving Story, with which this tale connects. I think all good stories do...


Once upon a time there lived a grandmother whose grandchildren lived very far away in another land. Across two seas, and three borders, and many mountains. At that time there were three grandchildren, though now there are four.


Occasionally the parents of the children would journey back to the land of their birth and stay a while. Even more occasionally the children would stay there and perhaps go to school, because Other Things were happening in the far off land. The grandmother lived in a small house, so she had sturdy bunk beds brought for the two older girls, while Adam, the first-born son, slept on a little bed next to his grandmother. These beds carried the children safely and snugly through many seasons of their fledgling lives.


All children grow, however, and bump their heads on upper bunks that are suddenly much lower, and fight with the sister who was once such a close ally. Then of course Other Things led to a return homeward for everyone, and the houses of the families were now mere counties apart, instead of countries. Shiny new furniture soon replaced the worn pine bunks.


I think they stood there quite some time, those faithful bunks, not at all sure of what they could be without children, even transient ones. But they still glowed warm and hopeful.


Now it so happened that friends of this family were a wild and chaotic lot. They were small in number, and most of them were very small in stature. They made up for this, however, in noise and passion and fuss. High their principles may have been, but their ability to realise anything was limited indeed. The calm and experienced family had oft set a clear example to these floundering folk, and quietly stepped in when a question of new beds arose.


The bunk beds arrived one dark night in Strawberry Land. 'Twas the start of a riotous adventure.


In early times a canopy of blue and stars enfolded the high bunk, and under night skies at all hours of the day great conspiracies were hatched and empires forged. Later and below, dark dens of caves were formed from thick walls of quilt and at all hours of the day midnight feasts and ocean voyages and piles of books flowed far from adult eye.


All children grow, however, and bump their heads on upper bunks that are suddenly much lower, and fight with the brother who was once such a close ally. Then of course Other Things led to a looming move, and the brothers didn't want to share a room any longer.


They stood there quite some time, those faithful bunks, not at all sure of what they could be without children, even riotous ones. But they still glowed warm and hopeful.


Now it so happened that the Strawberries saw that someone was looking for bunk beds. Having ascertained that the calm and sadly separate family no longer had a use for them, the Berries offered them to a big family with four year old twins. The bunk beds left Strawberry Land in a fluster of snow and a billow of frost, and set forth once more into the dark night.


If one day you see them glowing warm and hopeful, with stickers of Lego men at head and foot, do smooth your hand along their worn pine sides and tell them we loved them!

Who's up for this year's November?

In November of last year I needed to hide in the Forest Of Toon (Tellegen) with my to-do list and a daily foray into the Land of Blog to remain sane. The year before that Frances blogged every day in November and demanded prizes for the achievement. I think the sausages were a later demand, but they have become all tied up with blogathons now in my tired and increasingly warping mind.

Reasons why I have announced to at least two people (both of whom I knew) today that November is my favourite month:

1. The slate skies and the wet footpaths are beautiful.

2. The slate skies and wet footpaths mean that winter is here,ergo it's now ok to get out everyone's thermal underwear, replace outgrown thermal underwear, and wear thermal underwear. I am wearing mine right now underneath my witch's dress.

3. November is the gloriously, peacefully, greyly empty month. It sits vacuously with the colourful riot of Autumn and its conker collecting needs on one side and the colourful riot of Christmas and its activity needs on the other. November is festival-free and serenely colourless in my book, and is my time to enjoy the advent of winter with no glittery strings attached.

4. November means that it is nonetheless time to be preparing for Preparing for Advent, our now annual retreat morning for stressed women. Preparing for Preparing for Advent is not the same thing as preparing for Christmas, oh no, mightily indeed. Preparing for Preparing for Advent means a month of my sitting quietly thinking up ways to facilitate other mums thinking quietly and catching a quiet thought with which to survive the preparing for Christmas. I love Preparing for Advent, the event. I also love sitting at home preparing for Preparing for Advent.

5. November is about catching a quiet thought that will sustain.

6. There's usually someone who decides to blog daily in November and I really like that thrill of logging in to see just what they've been up to, or not as the case may be, today...

So, my question is: who will take a turn at blogging daily this November? There could be prizes! This November's blogathon bloggiste will be...

Plans for a Cosy Monday Morning

Dear Animals,

Who is celebrating their birthday today?

If no one is, then who would like to have an early birthday?

If no one would like that, then who wants to celebrate something else and invite me for cake and tart?

If no one wants to do that either, then who wants to bake a cake (with honey and cream and sweet jelly and melted sugar) and to ask me to come around and eat it up?

If no one wants to do that, what then?

Help me.

The Bear

"Dear Animals"  Letters to Anyone and Everyone  Toon Tellegen

Tomorrow I will definitely be not working. The lovely very local little school that gives me work is having a staff training day and I am free to roam the Forest of Toon.  We are all thus gathering at Crafting Catherine's place for cake and tart, and hopefully some sock knitting.  Some sock knitting learning.  There may be pictures. Tomorrow.

Tellegen

Dear MK,

This is Toon Tellegen. A few seasons ago I went to our library to choose some books for and with the strawberries.  While they were looking at Horrible Histories, Livid Legends and other such things, I stumbled across Letters to Anyone and Everyone. A week later I had my own copy, with The Squirrel's Birthday and Other Parties coming that Christmas from my brother. I'm hoping that a Prince Charming of my acquaintance will be delivering Far Away Across the Sea this year!

They are children's stories, made up for his daughter, then written down when she grew up. Tellegen is, apparently, a prolific writer of many genres, but I think I've found my favourite right here.  Only yesterday did I read any of the stories to the strawberries- usually I guard them zealously beside my bed where I read and chuckle and smile.  I did use "The Stranger who Crosses the River" in  a children's talk last year.

I think you would love these stories very much. They would be perfect for you, if you had a little lethargic moment sitting with your feet up beside the fire, taking a break from your own writing and crocheting and music and chores.  You too would volunteer to dance with Elephant, eat sweet beech nuts with Squirrel and Ant, and ponder the existence of the Stranger who makes the river flood in Winter.  Mostly you too would bask in the warmth of the words and the subtle irony. And you would love the cakes and parties; oh, so many cakes and parties...

The Forest of Toon is no bad place to start the Winter!

November

The squirrel sat at his table. He wanted to write a letter but he didn't know who to. He made a start by writing: Dear

"Dear Letter"  Letters to Anyone and Everyone   Toon Tellegen

Folks, I have decided to hang around the Forest of Toon for the rest of the month. Betty talked about how she likes to look for den places to spend the night, but actually Squirrel says I can stay with him if I help with furniture reconstruction, so I said I'd have a go.

Just so I don't forget about the real world though I thought I could write you a letter every day. Inspired, obviously, by Left-Handed Housewife's whole month of blogging last November.  Since it's a letter you don't have to reply.  But if you do you'd better dress it up in hat and gloves before you send it into the woods. ("One Winter's Day")

We all went out today to winterproof the family, so no lack of hats and gloves and long johns and flannel sheets and fleece things here. I will confess to having read lots and lots and lots of Tellegen to anyone who was listening in the car in a vain attempt to stave off sibling ribling.  (Ang, we survived our trip away with your rainbow game! Do you know how hard it is to spot someone in a yellow jacket on deserted mountian roads? Not a hi-vis cyclist in sight!)

I looked back at last November, which was full of Ang's Top Tips for Christmas, Pom Pom's Child-Like Christmas, Preparing for Advent with Cooking Catherine and moi, Floss' Pause in Advent, Belfast hosting MTV, Frances' daily doses of inspiration, and Ang's first visit to Strawberry Land. Goodness, that was one fabulous month!  I ambitiously stated that I would own stripey tights, start a ripple blanket, do that year's Preparing for Advent, and think of a reward for Frances. I only missed one of the above, and seem to have rectified that this very week.

But anyway. This year I'm just going to spend November in the Forest of Toon.  Without the tights- never a good idea to buy tights for 14 year-old girls, unless you are a 14 year-old girl. No matter what the urgent occasion...

The yellow wood



We went to our special mountain place for a few days last weekend, but I got a bit lost in the yellow woods.  I was still looking for the road less travelled, while actually deciding that I'd like a bit of main thoroughfare for a while.  Maybe that's why I couldn't take  a clear picture!





So I thought that if I was going to be lost for a while it would have to be in the forest of Toon. Squirrel and Ant know where I am.  We are discussing weighty concerns, except when I'm having a moonlit dance with Elephant or telling the Salmon what I know about the Stranger who crosses the River.

 

This is just a little letter from the woods to say that I'm perfectly happy in here, and will probably come out soon. In time for school next week. Maybe. If the cakes run out before then...