Featured

Mattress Makings

By Izzie Jump (Izzie Jump is a chimpmunk)

Tramp, tramp, tramp / All along our trail/ We look to find this and that/ Good things, soft things/ To stuff into our mats!

Photo by Jaymantri on Pexels.com

Climbing the stem of milk weed Izzie grapples her way to the rhombus shaped pod. It poufs out in middle, and the edges crack open revealing opulent milk weed duff. This is what she wants. Light, ethereal, it will stuff into their comfy mattresses and hold them up in winter. She pushes and pulls and breaks the gray brown pod till it falls to ground. Then reaches for more. Scaling back down Izzie stuffs her grass sack full of the fluff, and trudges back home.

Photo by DapurMelodi on Pexels.com

Izzie then gnaws off the tassels of timothy, gold and light, and stuffs them into her grass satchel.

Then all the beds are made for winter sleeping, soft, fluffy and white. They are filled with comfy insides for cold, snowy nights.

Photo by Ian Beckley on Pexels.com
Featured

Watercress Salad

By Socks [Socks is a pygmy mouse]

with chives

DPhoto by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Dive into stream with shale knife, cut 8 to 10 fronds of watercress. Strip leaves from cress fronds, dry lightly, place in wood bowl. Add wild chives. Make dressing of sunflower oil, a dab of honey, a dab of apple cider vinegar, a pinch of hickory salt, a 1/2 acorn cup of water. Toss, serve. Yum!

Politics

Whenever i find myself in dominion over myself not sufficient for me, and undertake the direction of others, I overstep the truth…it hurts like a lie between me and them. Love and nature cannot maintain this assumption it must be executed by force. I can see well enough a difference between my setting myself down in self control and my going to make someone act after my views (I’ve been guilty of this!) But when a quarter of the human race assume to tell me what I must do I may be too much disturbed by the circumstances to see clearly the absurdity of their command. The antidote to this abuse of government is the influence of private character, the growth of the individual. It promises a recognition of higher rights than those of personal freedom or the security of property. A person has the right to be employed, to be trusted, to be loved… The power of love as a basis of a State has never been tried… there is not a reliance on moral sentiment and a belief in the unity of things. To persuade society be maintained because the private citizen might be reasonable, a good neighbor, without hint of jail or confiscation. Is it impossible that thousands of humans exercise toward each other the simplest of sentiments – love?

Ralph Waldo Emerson, ‘Politics’

Filibuster

“I had had my feelings excited and harrowed by witnessing the struggle, the ferocity and carnage, of human battle before my door.”

Henry David Thoreau ‘Walden’

“Who do you think will win, the blue or red ants?” Kick asked. She leaned over the spill of sand where the tiny creatures battled.

Nut sat with his hands under his chin, fascinated by the fight. “Well, the red ants are bigger… But the blue ants are protecting their home. I think the blue ones will.”

Photo by Syed Rajeeb on Pexels.com

Poppa Likes Thoreau

(Poppa Jump is a chipmunk.)

“I would that our ‘people’ felt some awe when they came to thin or let light to some grove…”

House Warming – HD Thoreau

“You don’t have to agree, Kick,” says Poppa. “Just recognize that Izzie’s family does things differently. And that’s good, cause it can help us adjust our views.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

“What if I think our way is right?” Kick questions, hands on hips.

“Then think again. And don’t forget to ask questions,” Poppa answers, giving a brief nod.

Kick watches him walk up the path to their door.

“I like to be right,” Kick says, kicking at the dust.

Nut claps Kick on the shoulder, says, “Get used to being wrong, partly right, or just not asking the correct questions.”

“Always?” says Kick, itching her striped head.

“Except for when you flip pancakes. You’ve got that down,” Nut laughs. They climb the path to home.

Photo by Monserrat Soldu00fa on Pexels.com

Ixi Helps Linger

Critters Cookin'

Ixi is a black widow spider. Linger is a pygmy mouse.

“…the de-population by cholera and small-pox is ended by drainage and vaccination; and every other pest is not less in the chain of cause and effect, and may be fought off. And, whilst art draws out the venom, it commonly exhorts some benefit from the vanquished enemy.”

Fate – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“I am not sure but from the study If and the others did, the germ was broken. I would like to try it on your leg,” said Ixi.

Linger looked up at the spider dangling from her thread. In Ixi’s arms was cradled a small cobweb cup.

“That’s the medicine you want to try on my leg?” asked Linger. Sweat drenched her fur. Her leg, wounded in a fall, dripped with pus.

“Yes,” said Ixi.

Linger nodded. Ixi lowered herself onto Linger’s injured knee and poured three…

View original post 186 more words

Ixi Helps Linger

Ixi is a black widow spider. Linger is a pygmy mouse.

“…the de-population by cholera and small-pox is ended by drainage and vaccination; and every other pest is not less in the chain of cause and effect, and may be fought off. And, whilst art draws out the venom, it commonly exhorts some benefit from the vanquished enemy.”

Fate – Ralph Waldo Emerson

“I am not sure but from the study If and the others did, the germ was broken. I would like to try it on your leg,” said Ixi.

Linger looked up at the spider dangling from her thread. In Ixi’s arms was cradled a small cobweb cup.

“That’s the medicine you want to try on my leg?” asked Linger. Sweat drenched her fur. Her leg, wounded in a fall, dripped with pus.

“Yes,” said Ixi.

Linger nodded. Ixi lowered herself onto Linger’s injured knee and poured three drops of the concoction into Linger’s cut. The drops absorbed into the wound.

“Now willow bark tea,” said the spider, “for pain. And a touch of my toxin for sleep.”

Linger sipped the tea then lay back on her pillow. Her muscles loosened as some of the pain left her. Ixi stepped up Linger’s fur to her left eye.

“Here, this will make you sleep as the healing begins.”

Linger nodded, opening her eyes wide. From Ixi’s fang one drop of formulated venom fell into the corner of Linger’s eye. Linger did not blink. The liquid absorbed.

“Close your eyes now, rest.”

Two days later Linger opened her eyes again. Despite being fed sips of water and broth she was very thirsty. She drank from the cup by her bed. The pain had gone. She looked at her leg. The wound was wrapped in a lace of webbing. Linger, heart beating fast, looked under the web. The pus was gone, the wound, pink with healthy skin, was closing up. Linger lay back on her pillow, sighed.

Photo by Ali Mu00fcftu00fcou011fullaru0131 on Pexels.com

Ixi had healed, again.

Nut reads Abe

“I have not willingly planted a thorn in another man’s bosom. I shall do nothing through malice. What I deal with is too vast for malice.”

Abraham Lincoln

Nut climbs Areth to her highest bough. The crows, all one hundred fifty, assemble below. They, and their mates, are ready to fly the world. Nut looks for Kick. She is near, sitting on Nell’s back. Nut grimaces. Then smiles, waves. Kick gives him a wave. Nell caws. All of Areth comes alive with the call of the crows. Nut nods, raises his arm. He hears the click as the birds close their beaks. He lets his arm fall. Nut feels a blossom of sadness. The crows open their wings. The tree is covered in a swath of black. Then they leap into the blue. And go.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Groundhog Rides

“Know by habitation” Ralph Waldo Emerson

Nut Jump is a chipmunk.

“Okay, you’re trying to get up mountain, too? Maybe we can work together Groundhog,” I say. I point up mountain. Then I make my fingers walk. The groundhog nods.

“My brother, Jack, broke his leg. Would you carry him?” I point to the groundhog then pantomine sitting. “

“We could put a spear launcher on your back. Jack is a good shot. The rest of us would be ready to fight. Then we could travel safely.”

The groundhog nods again.

“I think you need a name. How about Sebastian?”

“Chit, chit, chirr,” nods Sebastian.

I climb on Sebastian’s back. We walk to the Summer Home.

Photo by Ian Beckley on Pexels.com

“Is this critter for Jack?” Kick asks.

I nod.

“How’s the ride?”

“Kinda rolly, but fun. Meet Sebastian,” I say patting his back.

William

Momma likes WS. Momma Jump is a chipmunk.

“Go to your bosom: knock there, ask your heart what it doth know. “

William Shakespeare

” So, do you believe all stories are true?” asked Momma.

“No. Cause one chipmunk can believe one way, another another way. Can both be right?” Nut questions.

“And what of observable? And what of faith? And what of now? The lines drawn are imaginary. Your path is yours alone.”

“What is supposed to be will be.”

“You can’t do it that way!”

“Stop, Kick! Put down the machete. You don’t dig for chicory root with a weapon,” Pa says, shaking his head. “Use your digging stick.”

“Okay, Pa,” Kick answers. “I guess there is a reason for every tool.”

“Look, Kick, your machete is chipped.”

“Hawks,” swears Kick.

“You cannot do wrong without suffering wrong. We aim at a petty end quite aside from the public good, but our act arranges itself by irresistible magnetism along the poles of the world. “

Ralph Waldo Emerson ‘Compensations’