Friday, September 12, 2008

When Daphne Gave Scrappy Doo the Keys to the Mystery Machine

Oh dear. It seems Lorraine's unexpectedly handed me the keys to the van, as she's had to run off to tonight's gig (where I'm told she'll be playing the bagpipes). Yes, I'm as baffled as you are. But she really wanted to get all the night garden pieces posted tonight; in my capacity as the Backup Fairy, I'm pleased to oblige in her absence. Many thanks to Phiala, Spacedlaw, Ariandalen, and Stacy: you've shown us your hearts, and rewarded us with beauty. It doesn't get better than that.

Fireflies & Stardust
by Nathalie Boisard-Beudin


by Phiala

The garden is not haunted.
Leaves rustle only from the cool night breeze.
Those flowers bloom at night for moths, not pixies.
No gnome lives in the hollow tree.
A row of garlic keeps the nonexistent vampires at bay.
Those glowing eyes definitely do not belong to a zombie.
I will go in to bed now, the bed without the monster underneath.


Green Moon Garden
by Ariandalen

There was a light breeze among the roses. The garden was lit only by the stars. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would be even longer. I desperately needed sleep, but there I was, out in the garden, trying not to dwell on the next day's events.

There was a sudden sharp scent of rosemary, so I turned and saw her walking towards me.

"Isn't it lovely how the limestone path glows in the starlight?" she asked calmly, her long white dress shifting ever so slightly in the breeze. "Yes," I said.

She walked softly along the path, stopping at one rose before moving to the next. Without looking at me, "There will be a new moon tonight. Did you know that? The second for this month, a green moon." I stood where I was, unable to move toward or away from her. "Hunh. Now that you reminded me, yes. A good time for new beginnings." I thought I saw a soft smile play across her lips.

She moved to the next rose bush, softly cupping a white single rose in her hands. She bent over so that her face was right next to the blossom and inhaled deeply. Her brows knit together as she stood and looked at me. "I know you chose your roses for their scent, but I don't know why I cannot smell them. I can only detect a hint of their fragrance. Can you tell me why?"

Before I could say a word, the tiniest sliver of a moon appeared in the sky. A single moonbeam landed between us, creating a hazy opening in the air. We both stared at it in wonder. A stronger breeze seemed to come from the opening, at least enough of one to move her hair slightly off her shoulders, though I felt nothing.

Her face became radiant with a smile as she moved towards the portal. "There! That is the scent I remember. And music. Such music!" Still I stood, riveted to my spot. She placed one foot through the now glowing portal, turned and asked, "Won't you come with me?"

I shook my head, "No. I can't right now." She stepped on through, waving, then the portal closed with a sigh. I fell to my knees, and the tears that would not come earlier that evening began to fall.


by Stacy Hurt

darkness finally~
peace and cold,

now I can work,
freely and with ease,

I do not practice
for perfection,
only function:
and that; I have perfected.

unborn mouths to feed
all are restless, confined.

I pass a single elegant appendage over it
soon my darlings...


something stirs

something panics

something dies

we shall dine

by the glow

of my red hourglass



Evening Prayer

by Nathalie Boisard-Beudin

Answering a knock on the door, he was surprised to find a tree on his door step.
You just don’t expect firs to show up on your porch in the middle of the night and this one had spread fresh earth, needles and worms all over the porch too.

So he could not help being a little curt in his response.

Yes? What was it? What did it want?


The fir had asked him – in a rather high pitched falsetto - if he did intend to walk the dog that night.

Now, because the tree has sounded a little like Terry Jones doing Graham Chapman's mother in the “Life of Brian”, he had right away suspected this to be some sort of practical joke. After all, why would a fir care if he did walk the dog or not? Did it need watering? But when, as a test, he had plucked a needle from the creature's branches a storm of wails had answered the insult and he'd been called all sorts of things that a well brought up fir really had no business knowing about.

Hasty apologies sheepishly presented, he then explained that his dog had to be kept at the vet overnight, for a routine operation. For tonight, there was therefore no plan to go "walkies". The fir started to shake. Wringing its branches, with noises of “how awful!” and laments, it told him that this could not be possible, that he just HAD to go out. Wouldn’t he come out, please, and make the world happen?

The what?

The world happen.

The night life and scenery around the house had only developed because he’d started to walk the dog. Previously there had been no need for an outside world to be there at all in the evening and – in order to cut costs of maintenance and operation – the area around his house had been kept void at night. With him starting to go out regularly, things had to be changed and although some – it would not name names – had grumbled about the hassle and expenditure, there was now a whole wild nocturnal setting out there for him to experience whenever he came out with the dog.
But it would only remain in existence if he did indeed came out every night. Otherwise, the auditing services would close down the whole operation and creatures like owls, fireflies, and fellow trees – with their dryads – would be sent back to some dank storage room.

And they quite liked it here.

They loved being in the open for once and the way the set designers had organised the place with twinkling stars and lovely mist ribbons. And the smells! The flowers fragrant after a hot day, the earth so rich, the mushrooms coming out in the moss. Why it made an old fir like him feel alive!
So would he - please - come out and play?


(and this is the bit where Lorraine always says)
Love and Guest Blogging,

Thursday, September 11, 2008

New Bagpipe (Uh..) Music!

Short post tonight as it has been a long day here and I am ready to nip home to some Bengals and I Couch, and a little Tivo action.

Except I have home work. Hmmph. Forgot about that. It seems there is some sort of TEST thing next week, and I am meant to actually know, as in have memorized, something called Chapter One. Doesn't seem fair somehow...(What do French Students who don't have Nathilie to Skype with DO?????)

Kitty is back! I know, we knew this, but it makes me happy to know, and she will be here soon. I have no pictures here for you tonight, but if you nip over to Kitty's Neverwhere Blog she has posted enough pictures for both of us. Lovely shots of the tour, and tales of wonder and excitement.

(SHE got to assist in the Pyro Department. Why don't Paul and I have Pyro in the Pubs?)

No word on the Carrot. No cell phone in it's traveling carton. I will keep you updated once it arrives at the Birdchick's.

Phiala and Paul, whatever you are talking about keep it up.

We have decided that when you get your Night Garden Pieces done, send them to Jess. She is going to keep track of them, as I obviously am not the one for the job. Send them to me too, tho! I want to see them as soon as ever. In the subject line, include something subtle, like HEY DORK! THIS IS A NIGHT GARDEN PIECE. Then I will know...Sigh. (in my defense tho, I do get a LOT of e-mail and am juggling a few too many balls sometimes)

Dan, I wanted to clarify, you are NOT part of the people trying to encode something that would allow us to talk to aliens? As you believe, if they came among us, the global economy would be in big trouble? Whew. That's good, you can tell they haven't as the economy is so very....Oh.

Ok, and now the moment you have all been waiting for! Yes, here it is MORE ULLEANN PIPES! Can you believe I have only been playing one week! Just listen, it's amazing, FOUR notes, played in no particular order!

(Warning: For the faint of heart....It's truly a cacophony. Like some sort of hideous tortured soul. And the long suffering sigh you hear at the end? That's not pipes, that's the Dog Expressing his opinion of the entire project.)

Love and Magic,

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

The Further Adventures of Mr Mandroot-Carrdrake-Cthulot

Well, wasn't this one of my better Faux-pas? Managing to completely not realize not one, but three things people posted, linked to or sent me were Night Garden Project things? Phiala, Spacelaw and Adriandalen, I am truly sorry, and need to keep better tabs on things. Jess is going to help me from now on, and once we get the new site up, things will be much better. And I got a fourth today too, from Stacy! Wonderful all they are!

I'm going to hold off and post them all on Friday, as I have gigs Friday night, Saturday Day, Saturday Night , and Sunday Day, and am then going to nip in and see The Shondes on Sunday night, with Paul and Woodsman Hans. And since blogging will be difficult, you'll have lots of lovely things to read.

One thing I wanted to talk about was that, I know how hard it is to send stories, art, poetry, sculpture, music what ever it is you do, out into the world. I kept my stories close for a long time. I loved them, but I didn't know if they would work for the world at large. Kitty and Kimbo had been urging me to go for it, and find a publisher, and of course Malena loved them, I had been writing them mostly to amuse her. But it was all of you who encouraged me to go for it. And gave me the heart to say, "Look, here is my heart"

Music is like that too, and performing. It's hard to put your heart out there, and scary. I think what I am trying to say is yes, it's scary, but what is important is not if you made something good, but that you put your heart into it, and put it out there, in whatever form your heart takes. One rule Adam Stemple taught me about performing was "Never Apologize on Stage". Or in art. If you get up there and say, "well, I wrote this, I hope you like this poor pitiful thing.." you have created just that.

People may like what you do. And sometimes they won't. What's important is to go for it, and stand up for it. And learn. And then go and do something else.

There, enough with the deep thoughts, back to the Carrot who wanted to be a Mandrake root.

Our Fiend, as you can see, has been hanging out on it's Goat Cheese Couch in the fridge, waiting to find out it's fate. A lot of people seemed to be in favor of the moonlight burial, complete with an effigy of a hanged man, but more seemed in favor of sending it to Cinnamon to Disapprove of. The Birdchick was agreeable, and so.........

Here is our Fiend reclining in it's First class Priority Cabin, getting ready to travel. The Birdchick has promised both photos and Video, first Video for this blog!

And here, at the post office. Try explaining to those dear folk exactly why you are a) mailing a carrot and b) why you need photos of it. One post Lady said "Are you doing a Photo Doc on Bob?????

No, I said. On a Carrot.

Love and Madness,

Tuesday, September 09, 2008

Night Garden Page 2.....

Fods, long day. I am truly very tired. I was wondering on the way home from Dog School, what I could possibly write about that would be as fun as, Mr Marrot, Mandcake, Cuthulu Dude, and wasn't coming up with anything. (He's currently sitting in the fridge chilling out, since half the vote seems to be going for burying him so the Garden Gnomes can wonder, and half of the vote for sending him to Cinnamon to Disapprove of.)

Then, like a gift, for a worn out Assistanting-French-learning-dog-agility-girl, I find Page Two of the Night Garden Project! A poem by Jess.

It deserves it's own entry. I am accompanying it with a picture of Venus, because I like it, it's spooky, it's my blog and I can do what I like, but mostly because it is getting WAY late and at least this way I can point out to her when I do get home, that I was not ignoring her...

Love and Night Gardens,

Tinkerbell and the Butterfly Bush
(for Audrey)

It isn't true that Tinkerbell
came into our back yard at night,

to buzz around in sunny moon-
light and wait till my teeth fell out,

so she could carve a new tea set.
(Enamel's stronger than ox-bone,

and Tinkerbells pay well.) But I
sat in the hall window seat, fists

over my ears (to keep out bats),
my lost teeth tucked into my palm.

Our Black Knight bush stood tall enough
to brush the sill, and butterflies

clung high to its blue-velvet blooms,
so near to the pane you could see

their needle-noses poke into
each tiny trumpet. I thought Tink

might land there and wait, hanging on
by her little bare feet and hands,

just like a butterfly-- and I
swear the branch moved, though no breeze blew

as I pressed my nose to the glass.
It dipped beneath the sill and up:

a hundred eyes, each a tiny
orange flame, winked at me through the pane.

I didn't know that the Black Knight
kept all her eyes open at night.

It seemed we shared a great secret.
I'm loathe to break her trust. But you

ought to know, and feel unafraid,
when Tinkerbell fails to appear--

or when something stirs in the night
where a butterfly should have been.

2008 by Jess Mersky

Monday, September 08, 2008

I Am Not Who You Think I Am....

I am mis-understood. No one knows the pain I go thru on a daily, and nightly, basis. I have always been different, and I have never fit in. I have always known that I never would.

They laugh at me, and mock me, and say it is all in my head, and that I am not normal. This I know too well, all too well. I am not normal. I am not like the others. I am myself.

They see Carrot, most Carrots anyway, and think, ah, juice, or perhaps soup or cake. Or a light snack, in lieu of potato chips. But that it is not me. I was not born, nor bred like most of my kind.

For you see, I am a Mandrake Root, born into the body of a Carrot.

I was meant to come to life, under the body of a Hanged Man, under the full moon. A wise women should have come to me, armed with the Secret of pulling my deep rooted self from the Earth, without becoming mad from my screams.

I should have been lulled by a beautiful maiden, who would sing the Old songs to me, I should have had only to reach out and embrace her with my tendrils, and known only joy.

I should have been used, as my fellows have been for centuries, in potions, and spells, and rights, that witches, good and bad, concoct on nights when there is magic in the air. I wanted to heal. Or to hurt.

I am a creature of mystery, and enchantment and of legend!!!! This I know. Deep in my heart, and in my soul. But I live like this. A Mandrake Root, trapped in the body of a carrot, for all time. I will never know all that I can be, nor fulfill my destiny.

I turn my back on your juices, salads, and soup.

I will wait for the night I awaken.

As myself.

Love and magic, Lorraine

Sunday, September 07, 2008

The Day The Dog Went Goth...

What a most excellent fun day it was. Got up really early, and spent some time with The Birdchick and Friends, while they set up for banding birds, always fun, and then headed out for Fest, in the Prius, with the Dog.

(Think clown car, it does work, and I put a bed in there for him. HIS car takes way too much gas for a weekly jaunt)

Cabal loves the Fest. He gets to go for a ride, always good, no matter where we are going, he is with me, (I am so the Alpha in the absence of Boss) and it's like a day long Walk, with other dogs everywhere. Mostly he stays with our Minnion when I am playing, a Very Nice Girl named Nicky with many piercings that he has taken a liking to.

(Don't you wonder why I mentioned her piercings? Read on, my dears...)

But sometimes, it all gets too much, and he has to BE with me....Not a great shot of me in my Fest dress, but fun of him....It's just my show, no reason to stay awake for it or anything....

Gayle came out with her son, the Mighty M, which was beyond delightful fun. Cute Police are going to be ON that kid, much fun collecting treasure, and I spoiled him rotten finding things to put in his Spider Bag. Sorry Gayle, I'll do it again in a second.

Gayle and Nicky, of the Many Piercings, got to hear my Bag Piping, they were the only two brave enough, the rest bailed en masse when I pulled them out. They'll be sorry.....

(OK, so it WAS pretty hideous, but I do have four notes now...)

So, this will sound a little strange. And I don't know quite what to make of it, but Cabal, after some three odd weekends with Nicky (of the many piercings) decided that, well, piercing ones nose was in fact the cool thing to do.

We were walking thu the shop from our Green Room ("Room" is stretching, it has neither walls nor roof, but it is our spot behind a friendly shopkeeper) and, I have NO idea how, odds might be a MILLION to one, but Cabal managed to pierce his nose.

The Shopkeeper and her Husband have art that hangs on short chains, with a hook at the end of it, small hook, not quite an inch, an S hook. One was hanging on a nail, about Dog height.

I do not know how it happened, as we walked past, but Cabal managed to, well, Pierce his nose, all the way thru, as we walked past! He yelped, I saw it, Jeff the husband tried to get it out, the S hook with 6 inches of chain hanging from his nose, Cabal freaked..Jeff said, I hold, you get it out.


Well, one does what one has to.

Got blood all over my nice white chemise, but it came straight out. (the hook, it remains to be seen if the blood does) I was shaking and thinking "Don't throw up, don't throw up"

HOW he managed that I truly do not know. It seems fine now, tho I think a call to the vet is in order in the morning. A lesson on the dangers of trying to fit in.

Came home to what was left of a Mouse. Not much. I think I am glad Mim is so on the job. I think.

I am ready for no more adventures today, tho all in all...

It was pretty fun.

Love and Piercings,