Snowy road

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“There is so much snow out there today, that you will need a sleigh, to make it through, which is not bad at all” Gun Roswell

Snowy road

Snow covered the roadside, as it had been pouring the night before, during, a storm. The surrounding fields, laid under, a soft blanket, woven in threads of white, all of it, looking like something of a holiday book, the seasonal nook, to lay comfortably on. But what ever looks good, is not always putting you in the best of moods, as there was still the road to tackle, and as it was, much like the surrounding grounds, a mass of white powder, rather than a set of clear tracks. What to do now, as the trip to the nearest shop was not plowed? There were a few options, coming to mind, some of them, none too kind, like pouring hot water all over the place, but what was the point, as freezing would only result in using skates, but those were clearly out of shape. Then the pair of skis, against the wall standing, made of some old tree. Nope, the poles were gone, so sliding with a wooden frame under your feet, seemed too much of a feat. When all hope seemed to be gone, one hopeful thing appeared, from the very rear, of the open shed, visible only while looking really carefully. An old sledge, just there, on the edge! On closer inspection, it seemed to be in pretty good condition, considering it had not been used, in many years since the past, when all of us adults, were kids and thus, riding the ridges, like having plenty of fire under our bridges. But reminisce aside, this would be our very ride, taking us across the snowy roads, with a small sleigh in our tow.

Across the snowy bridge

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“The winter time can be quite magical, if you let it be” Gun Roswell

Across the snowy bridge

Not quite frozen but not really flowing either, the slow flowing creek now, in the middle of the winter. As the snow covering it, could be just a trick, tempting to step on it, even if none too safe at that. But, thinking of it really carefully and acting accordingly, maybe a safe passage across the Schrödingers’ bridge dilemma of a watery way, could be solved in a fashion without missing the play. A large tree, just up the creek, might just be the answer to that which you seek, as a tall branch once, now laid on the ground, acting like a makeshift bridge, as if it was simply made for exactly this. Snowy and slippery it was, but crossing it, would be a blast, an adventure in the middle of the winter, although, maybe with a few splinters. And that was the magical thing of it all, as you never really could be sure as to what to expect, so better always to be, watching that next step before leap.

A hidden message in the fresh snow

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“A smiley face inside a heart, drawn in the fresh snow – just a simple reminder of happiness and love” Gun Roswell

A hidden message in the fresh snow

A child’s play or an adults joke, was right there, in plain sight, just to poke, those familiar feelings, long since forgotten, dormant in the depths of the very protected soul of a being, once called human, now only fleeing, from any kind of warm contact. Even, the cool, calm exterior, the stoic stance, was all, just an act, it did not matter because nothing and no one would ever be able to attack, those inner hidden qualities, most of thought now lost for good. But suddenly, the hidden message written in a messy drawing, stirred something there, and now, without any kind of fear, and odd expression emerged from out of nowhere, half scaring the passers by, as it was also included with a loud noise. What on earth? Someone exclaimed, as the laughter and a smile, so filled with life and opened wide. It must have been a sign, that the end of the world was near. Alas, the owner of said oddity, did not care, but stood and stared, at the message and never letting, that good feeling, fade away. Not at least, today. No, but maybe, tomorrow, it would all go back to normal, what ever that meant.

01.01.2021

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“Nothing like saying goodbye to bad rubbish” Gun Roswell

01.01.2021

The new leaf turned as the New Year started
Gone was the good with the bad and the ugly, dearly departed
Now looking forward already plotting the new targets
But was this an elaborate ruse, designed by the market?
Making once again believe in me hope, when it all smarted?

Miracles do happen, someone might have said
And that in itself should have to plenty suspicions led
But the fool hearted believers had so many tears shed
As each and every day it had gotten harder up from bed to get
So, instead of casting all hope, deciding to expect better ahead

A new year, a new hope, a new time, to make all right
This was the mantra now after being tired of all the fights
Self doubt, closing the mouth, no more foul out sprout
Nothing was going to stop this year turning to something great
Even if in the back of the mind a thought off all being too late

But hey, what else could go wrong?

Happy New Year!

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“It is that time again, to turn a new leaf in life” Gun Roswell

Happy New Year!

Colourful burst of noise filled blinding light
Filling the darkened day, soon turning into a night
The clocks, on the walls, and everywhere, are quickly churning
As the long awaited coming of a new year starts slowly turning
Time itself stopping, for a blink one an eye
As all the wishes and hopes, for a better life
Fill the airways, from every which possible way
Letting go of the passing year and all its fear
Because now looking forward, is a reward
Of this special midnight, which will make everything alright

In the middle of the night

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“I like to watch the outside world through my window” Gun Roswell

In the middle of the night

As I sat on the window sill, waiting, and quite still
In my usual spot, which I mostly these days, tend to fill
The hour way past midnight, could be, of a fright
But hey, for me this time, always feels, quite alright
As no one and nothing, out there, ever stirs
As during the day, it all just looks like a big blur
Not this moment though, as not a friend nor a foe
Dares to go, outside and in to the cold frozen snow
And only me, myself and I, dare to look out there
As the flakes at first kind of slowly, all over fell
But before I had a chance of thought, on all of it dwell
The storm soon enough began, its might to expand
The power so magnificent, leaving no branch unbent
And I felt exhilarated and totally alive the more I spent
My time there, in my very spot, watching, learning
As the world outside with cold white, was burning

Peekaboo, through the view

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“There is snow on the ground again, a lot of it!” Gun Roswell

Peekaboo, through the view

A forestry type setting
As the son slowly letting
The change of something
Quite new and alluring
White and crispy clean
Still untouched not seen
The view from behind
The trees to a divine
Setting from a fairytale
Which is not for sale
And lasting only for a while
And then it’s gone with a cry
But even if you manage somehow
To capture the image right no
You can see much more
Than any picture has in store
A moment of perfection
Fleeting by to a direction
New and most likely fine

Some kind of sunset

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“The sun is setting and I am letting, my hair hang down, after all, time too, will stall “ Gun Roswell

Some kind of sunset

It’s not very often, one really gets, to the state of that simple awe
But today, that totally happened, simply, from what I out there, saw
The countryside, the fields, the very open wide, of the high skies
All covered in rays of various blues, oranges, purples, reds and yellows
Making you want to stop and stare and shout out, really loud a “hello!”
This unexpected and odd effect, especially, during the time, of the year
When all is dark and there is nothing there, except maybe, the fear
That the sun will never, ever again turn up, and light our darkened way
But today, it was a special kind of a treat, where the feeling of defeat
And against all the odds and the grey and dull, was lifted for a moment
As if the nature, wanted, us, the dwellers of earth, get out of torment
Then, with a show so spectacular, painted the colours, across the sky
Before retreating, once again, and leaving us, the earth and all, behind

Sunday at the Beach

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“Nothing better, like a day at the beach, laying lazily, on a padded seat“ Gun Roswell

Sunday at the Beach

Sundays, really are the best days, forget all them days rest
As this is the one day, you can do what ever you may
Without too much of a thought, when acting like a sloth
Trying not too much to worry, about the next day, being sorry
That during, nothing got done and only having some needed fun
But hey, do not worry, as what is, but one single day off
And then, letting your hair hang loose, and not needing to choose
Whether a loose pair of the flip flops, are ´totally a proper pair
Of some kind of everywhere kind of accepted footwear
So, be, that one and total fool, and go and play it really cool
And head out to the that one special place, where there is no doubt
You can just be, the one being, without actually been seen
As a total jackass, for not always, working off their own ass
Relax, enjoy, your worries off deploy and take a load off
For today is that one day of a Sunday, and don’t need to show off

A Christmas Tale of sorts or Can I have some Figgy Puddin’, please?

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“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times” Charles Dickens

A Christmas Tale of sorts or Can I have some Figgy Puddin’, please?

The year was 1845. I was about ten years of age and working as a stable girl. Our family lived and worked in Lord Hamilton’s manor house. It was Christmas time and as a gift for the servants, the Lord arranged a feast for the staff and their families.

Mommy had the children dressed in their Sunday best. My two brothers were complaining about the stiffness of the shirts. Starch was itchy and could cause rash, especially if one scratched the itch.
I had my favourite dress on and my younger sister was a bit jealous of the red and green colouring. She was wearing a plain blue coloured hand me down.

After all the fuzz and hassle with the wardrobe, the whole family was finally set to go to the main house and start with the Christmas dinner. Us servants would be dining in the large kitchen. Several long tables were brought in with extra seats as well. This wasn’t a large household. With around fifteen servants and their families, well not all had children and spouses, all in all around sixty people in total crammed around the tables. The two cooks had had their hands full with the preparations and naturally every one that could had chipped in.

But now it was time for celebration. Everyone was finally sitting down and getting quiet. After grace the noise level rose again. Food containers were passed around and everyone was filling their respective plates. After all, it wasn’t often we got to eat in this manner and variety.

After a while, everyone had cleared their plates and it was time for dessert. My favourite was the Figgy Pudding. If possible I opted for seconds. As I got my plate of the delicious substance before me, I licked my lips and dug into it with gusto. It did not take too long for the food to disappear from my plate.

My mom looked at me with a smirk. I looked back at her and passing my bowl I asked: “Is there any Figgy Puddin’ left?”

I was smiling widely, feeling exhilarated, when the bowl was passed back to me with an other helping.

When the final bits were eaten, it was time for the traditional sing along. The farmhand brought out his accordion and after the first few tunes, we all joined in. The evening was spent singing, chatting and finally picking up the tables. We all went back to our dwellings, thanking the Lord for the special meal.

Merry Pudding and God bless us everyone!