T.S. Elliot Cats

One of our five black and gray kittens given away last Thursday.

The Song of the Jellicles

Jellicle Cats come out to-night
Jellicle Cats come one come all:
The Jellicle Moon is shining bright -
Jellicles come to the Jellicle Ball.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,
Jellicle Cats are rather small;
Jellicle Cats are merry and bright,
And pleasant to hear when they caterwaul.
Jellicle Cats have cheerful faces,
Jellicle Cats have bright black eyes;
They like to practise their airs and graces
And wait for the Jellicle Moon to rise.

Jellicle Cats develop slowly,
Jellicle Cats are not too big;
Jellicle Cats are roly-poly,
They know how to dance a gavotte and a jig.
Until the Jellicle Moon appears
They make their toilette and take their repose:
Jellicle Cats wash behind their ears,
Jellicle dry between their toes.

Jellicle Cats are white and black,
Jellicle Cats are of moderate size;
Jellicle Cats jump like a jumping-jack,
Jellicle Cats have moonlit eyes.
They're quitet enough in the morning hours,
They're quitet enough in the afternoon,
Reserving their terpsichorean powers
To dance by the light of the Jellicle Moon.

Jellicle Cats are black and white,
Jellicle Cats (as I said) are small;
If it happends to be a stormy night
They will practise a caper or two in the hall.
If it happens the sun is shining bright
You would say they had nothing to do at all:
They are resting and saving themselves to be right
For the Jellicle Moon and the Jellicle Ball.

T. S. Elliot

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Shabby Chic

My mother doesn't care about trends or fashion anymore. She's just taking care of, or rather let live things she's fond of.
Like this young ceramic guy with a face from her childhood.
Once he throned on her mantlepiece all brown without scars, moss or other signs of a lived life.
Then he fell to the floor and went to pieces, but his charming face was still intact.
My mother placed him on the chimney of our home made (hers and mine) fireplace in the secret garden. Every spring he's got more "freckles", but his enigmatic smile and the mocking glimpse in his eyes becomes more and more apparent year by year.
Boy out of time, but in our hearts.

Mother's Ruby Spring

After her brain stroke 3 years ago, my mother has gone a long and lonely way to regain her strength and life.
Come springtime her strength are tripled and her will to fight defeat and illness are admirable.
Her red shoes made her perfect for Ruby Tuesday, as we visited her yesterday, May first.
Gunnar is a great support both to my mom and me. He drove the long way to Sauda to deliver a garden bench we bought for my Mom at a flee market. Monten shall NOT wait to have a resting place when she's out doing what she likes the most; digging, weeding , planting and fertilizing.

Monten dislike using a crouch, the old broom is a great support.

Two years ago Monten finally got her and mine beloved White Anemone to grow in her secret garden.
As you will see, she has lots of land to cultivate, about 2 acres of land.

The "new" old blue bench is perfect for outdoor life, providing a snug resting place behind the old hen house. and because it's solid old wood, it will also withstand rain and snow of harsh Nordic climate.



My Mom and I sung this psalm about the revival of nature.
I'll add the Norwegian text. Those of you who are interested can try to get it translated.

No livnar det i lundar.

Av Elias Blix

No livnar det i lundar, no lauvast det i lid,
den heile skapning stundar no fram til sumars tid.

Det er vel fagre stunder når våren kjem her nord,
og atter som eit under nytt liv av daude gror.

Guds kyrkja lysa skulde som høgt på berg ein stad,
med sumar utan kulde og utan solarglad.

Guds ord vel alltid lyser, den sol gjeng aldri ned:
det hus som Anden hyser, ligg stødt i ljos og fred.

Men stundom kom då kulde på Herrens kyrkjemark:
det var som Gud seg dulde, og burte var Guds ark.

Det var dei myrke dagar, Guds ord var fåhøyrd segn;
og hjarta frys og klagar, det saknar sol og regn.

So sende Gud sin Ande som dogg på turre jord;
då vakna liv i lande, då grøddest vent Guds ord.

Då er det sæle tider for Kristi kyrkjegrunn;
då lauvast det i lider, då livnar det i lund.

Då ljosnar det i landet frå fjell og ned til fjord;
då losnar tungebandet, då kved Guds folk i kor.

Då skin det yver strender som sol ein sumarkveld:
då gløder kring i grender ein heilag altar-eld.

Du vår med ljose dagar, med lengting, liv og song!
Du spår at Gud oss lagar ein betre vår ein gong,

då me med vigsla tunga, med kjærleik heil og klår,
alt utan brest og sprunga skal lova Herren vår.
Elias Blix

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