Pieces of My Childhood

 

          I just wanted to make a simple post with some pictures that I've been finding on Pinterest lately.  Sometimes I'll come across a pin that brings back so many memories of my childhood!  These are a few of them...

I'm pretty sure everyone can relate
to this one!

My mom never really understood this one
when I was little...

I used to climb trees ALL the time!
I STILL love it!

Two words...seventh grade!!!

I miss doing this!



I still do!

THANK YOU Mom and Dad for not
letting me be a brat as I was
growing up!

I still struggle with this!

Yep!  I've almost broken arms
and fingers doing this...

        

I grew up with this guy!

Disney kid through and through!!!

I called each world a "Daydream".
I would spend hours and days
creating them.

  




This reminds me of my sister and I.

  

Seriously!!!

   


I was that way for "The Princess and
the Frog" and "Tangled".

ALL through Elementary and
and High School.

 

This was one of the things that my
family did a lot that really
bugged me.

I did this since the day I learned how
to work the microwave!



And what's even better is that I didn't
 get caught!

All three of them!  Wolfgang, Lady,
AND Butty!

Especially the Magic School Bus!

My hand looked like this 98%
of the time.

Daddy's girl!



My imagination scares me...

Every time...  I've actually gotten
pretty good at it!

Yeah...pretty much...

I did this!  But it wasn't a person.
Sometimes it was a cat, sometimes a
bird, sometimes a mini-dragon, etc.

Always!!

More than one...



Lenya's Seven Brothers and Mork's Return

Lenya's Seven Brothers
Lenya Holt sat beside the river and places her pouch in her lap.  Her seven brothers found comfortable places to bed down in the reeds around her.  She could have gone back to the human villages in the valleys.  She might have been married by now, with perhaps a few smiling red-haired children.  But she hadn't.  Her brothers were her only family, and she was their only link to reality.  Many would have deemed it sentimental and ridiculous.  However they just couldn't bear to toss away the last remnants of their old life...the one that was full of summer picnics where the whole hoard of young, red-headed Holts used to swarm over the countryside as they played.  Where their mother and father used to build a fire and roast cinimon apples and fish on sticks so that the smell would draw the energetic children back from their games.  Those times were long gone.  Yet...family was all they had left...even if nothing would ever be quite the same.

 

Mork's Return
"Mork!"  Jane ran forward and scooped up the limping white cat in her arms.  Then she did what she'd always wanted to do, ever since that sarcastic, talking feline had strutted into her life five years ago.  She held him close and stroked his silky fur.  She kissed his ears and rubbed her cheek against his.  She expected her teacher to yowl and complain that this was a ridiculous display of affection, but he surprised her. 
He let her cuddle him and bask in the fact that they were both alive and well for nearly five minutes before he said gruffly, "Now, now...that's enough of that foolishness.  I see you didn't quite manage to get yourself killed.  You have some promise after all." 
"I looked for you.  You weren't at the bridge after the seige like you said you'd be.  I thought the Baron's men must have...or his dogs might have gotten--"
"Those flee-bitten gits?  Don't insult me!  I could've evaded them while napping.  Now, what I really want right now is a nice bowl of tuna and creme.  Don't suppose you remembered to grab any when you raided the Baron's supplies did you?"
"Actually, I did." said Jane with a smile.  The cat looked very surprised at this.
"Really?  Well I guess you really aren't as hopeless as I thought.  Now stop mussing my fur and carry me inside.  It's going to take me three hours to get clean after this little adventure of ours and I don't want you adding to the problem!"
Chuckling to herself at the return of her mentor's prickly nature, Jane carried Mork inside and shut the door.

 

The Wolfram

Here is another picture that inspired a story idea:

 

 

"Fillin!  Fillin!  Fillin!"
"What is it Vasco?"
The wolf turned resignedly to face the young black crow that was hopping up and down and beating his wings in excitement.
"Here!  Now!  In the flesh!  Here!  Here!  Here!"
"What's here?"  Fillin interrupted.
"WHO!  Who!  Who's here!"
With a half sneeze of irritation, Fillin turned and began to lope away along the game trail.  Perhaps if he ignored the pesky, feathered git he'd give up and leave.
"Wait!  Wait!  Wait!"
Or perhaps not.
With a sigh, the wolf turned abruptly enough to make his friend start with surprise.
"Tell me what is going on...in as few words as possible...and with absolutely NO repeats...or you will be leaving with only half of your tail feathers!"
"Bad Fillin!  Bad...uh...wolfie!  Don't bite poor Vasco!  He only wanted to tell his bestest friend the most exciting news before anyone else!"
"Then TELL!" was the growled reply.
"Okay!  Okay!  Ok--KAH KAH KAH!" Vasco just barely got his tail feathers out of reach of Fillin's ivory canines in time.  He flapped over and landed on the top of a bolder just out of the wolf's reach where he continued to scold him in his own language of caws and screeches.  Fallin waited till the bird started repeating himself before barking, "Enough!  Tell me what's going on or I'll leave and ignore you no matter how much you follow me!"
"Fine!  Grouchy paws!  I tell you my hard earned piece of news!  Then you will thank me!"  He ruffled his feathers and cleared his throat importantly.  "The Wolfram is here!"
There was complete silence.  It was the crow that spoke first.  He couldn't stand silence and he'd been hoping for a much more interesting reaction. 
"Well?  Well?  Well?  Don't you know what the Wolfram is you silly ball of fur?"
"Course I do!" snapped Fillin. 
Of course he did.  Hadn't it been he, out of all five of his mother's pups who requested that story night after night after the pack returned from the hunt?
"The Wolfram is the wolf-crow.  The wolf with violet eyes.  The wolf that can see the far side of the moon, and fly there as if carried by wings of midnight.  The one who will come out of the far north.  The one who will bring the two clans together and lead them to victory against the Silver-Clawed One.  I know more legends and rumors about the Wolfram and his powers than anyone else."
Vasco bobbed up and down in excitement. 
"Yes!  Yes!  Yes!  You do!  You do!  And everyone knows it!  That's why they send me to find you!  You!  You! Y--"
"Wait!  Someone sent you to FIND me?  Who?  What for?  Why didn't you say that to start with?"
"Stop!  Stop!  Stop!  Too many questions!" Wailed the crow, shaking his head.  "The Council of Tooth and Wing sends for you!  High honor!  Very high!  Should be proud!  Your annoying obsession has paid off!"
"Why?"
"I just said.  Because you're an expert.  So to speak.  But we've got to hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!  Supposed to take you to the Council's Fountain.  We must go!  Go!  Go!"  With a squawk, Vasco took off and flew close to the ground in a northern direction.  Fillin had to run to keep up. 
"No time to waste!  Oh my!  My!  My!  Can't believe this is happening now!  We always thought it was a legend.  A myth.  In fact, lots of us--I mean, lots of folks thought you were a bit of a nutter to be harping on all of those old stories.  That's why they sent for you!  You!  You!  Even though you've only been old enough to hunt for a few years.  They need your help!  Help!  Help!  Unexpected troubles!  Unforseen.  Strange things.  Not like they thought."
"What things?  Vasco, curse you!  What's wrong?"
"The Wolfram!  Wolfram!  Wolfram!  Can't seem to access the powers.  Can't get to the magic within.  Not working!  Nope!  Nope!  Nope!  Can't remember anything!  No memory!  Need an expert!  Need you!  YOU, Fluffy!  The Council and the Wolfram!  High honor!  High!  High!"
"That's impossible!  The Wolfram is powerful beyond any other magical power!  And no MEMORY!  It probably is just a lost Omega that straggled in from the northern packs!"
"No!  No!  No!  It's the Wolfram!  For sure!  Sure!  Sure!  Saw her!  Violet eyes!  Runs fast too!  Very fast!  Faster than you even, Furball!  And you one of the fastest!"
"Wait!  Wait!"  Fillin stopped so suddenly that a surprised Vasco almost crashed head-on into a tree. 
"KAH!  KAH!  KAH!  You stupid, bushy-tailed, flea-infested--"
"'Saw HER'?  The Wolfram's a...a girl?'"
"Yeah!  Yeah!  Yeah!  A girl!  You got fur clogging your ears or what, Fluffy?  You're acting like you've never seen a she-wolf before.  Come on, Slow-poke!  Need to hurry!  Hurry!  Hurry!"
With a feeling of growing unease, Fillin followed his talkative, cawing friend through the woods.  Somehow he had a feeling he was getting into something bigger than he bargained for.  And he wasn't sure how he liked the idea. 
Much later, someone once asked him what he'd say to himself if he could go back to that moment in time.  The time his whole life changed.  He answered them with a crooked wolf-smile:
"I'd say, Fillin...you have absolutely noooooooooo idea what you're getting yourself into..."
 

Leala Leaves

          I said that I would occasionally post pictures that I felt a story behind.  Well this one struck me with the characters.  Both of them.  I could sense the girl's attitude for those she was leaving behind (slight sadness mixed with a touch of bitterness and an overall feeling of being unwanted by them).  I could also sense the cat's intelligence.  I could come up with several stories to explain these, but here is one of them.



       

She looked behind to see if they'd noticed she was gone.  She could see the outlines of her nine cousins against the living room curtains as the wrestled and played.  Her aunt was shouting at her uncle in the kitchen.  She could hear it even from here.  He had forgotten to pick up the groceries on the way home again. 
Well, at least they have one less child to take care of now.  Thought Leala.  She turned once more and got a better grip on the cat she'd bundled up in her blanket. 
"They won't even notice I'm gone for at least a day.  And when they do, it won't matter much." She confided out loud to her burden.
"Perhaps not." the cat replied, looking back as well.
"And you're sure my cousin wants me?  She's never asked me to come through the portal before.  In fact, I didn't even know she existed till now."
"Oh yes.  Lady Madeline asked for you specifically.  With her husband newly dead, she craves a sister with whom to share her large estate.  I told her I'd been watching over you since you were a kit.  That you were alone and needed someone as much as she did.  She was reluctant to ask you to leave your world and father's family behind in favor of a completely new life with someone you'd never met and whom your mother had barely mentioned.  But I told her that was exactly what you had told me you wanted: a fresh start."
"Thank you Burndil." Leala whispered hugging him close.  "What would I do without you?" 
"You'd sit in that window seat staring out at the snowy yard, feeling sorry for yourself for the rest of your days.  Now don't muss my fur too much!  I just took a bath!"
Laughing, Leala skirted the two-rail fence at the edge of the yard and headed into the field.

The Great Artist of the World

I took this picture of the lawn
in front of Old Main
last week.  It's a rainbow!

          Lately I've been drawing a lot because of a Costume Design class I'm taking.  I'm an okay artist (sort of), but my perfectionist side makes it very difficult at times when I'm drawing. 


Sunset over
Bellingham Bay

          On another, but related topic (I'll explain the connection later), I've been enjoying the scenery at my new college a lot lately.  The leaves are beautiful right now.  There are so many different types of trees in a relatively small area that the fallen piles are literal rainbows!  (See picture)  Also, here at Western, we're high on a hill overlooking Bellingham Bay.  When it's somewhat clear, the sunsets are absolutely gorgeous!  When it's cloudy or rainy, the different shades of blue, black, gray, and purple in the sky, water, mountains, and clouds are beautiful together.  When it's misty or foggy, the clouds cover the water and horizon completely.  Then, when you look down from our high position, it looks as if we're perched on the very edge of the world, with only mysterious oblivion beyond.  Beautiful huh?


There is usually a large drop and a view
of the bay and some small,
distant mountains over that
way.  Now you only see clouds.
 Doesn't it seem like the edge
of the world?  Amazing!

          Well, I mentioned drawing and art a while ago.  I promise that I will get to the connection.

          I walk around campus and see these wonderful sights.  But they are obvious to anyone with eyes.  I also see smaller scenes of incredible beauty.  A single raindrop on a pane of glass can capture my attention for minutes at a time.  It might be a design of twigs silhouetted against a street lamp.  Maybe it's the wind, dancing a dizzying ballet with some dust and old wrappers.  It might be a cluster of red berries amidst hundreds of others on a huge holly tree.  Perhaps a single stone sitting by itself in the gutter.  It may be a piece of reddish bark that's fallen off of a tree.  All of these things may seem random and insignificant.  However, for those with the right eyes, it's an incredible piece of art!  Something that beautiful couldn't be an accident.  Therefore, there must be an artist.


A single raindrop on a pane of
glass can capture my attention
for minutes at a time.

          If you don't believe in a Creator and you think the world happened by some big accident, I'm not going to argue with you about it right now.  Though I will ask you one quick question.  What is it like to go through life knowing that you were an accident?  To know that you came from a bunch of chemicals and junk that just happened to meet up?  Doesn't that make YOU just one big mistake?  Sorry, that was three questions.  Moving on.

          Geez!  I really am taking forever getting to the point!

It might be a
design of  twigs
silhouetted
against a street lamp.

          Anyway, for the sake of argument, God is the artist of all the beauty in the world.  He paints living art.  I look around me and I WISH I could paint or draw something half as wonderful as the thousands upon billions of God's paintings surrounding us every day.  Then I started thinking (I'm probably going to ramble pretty bad for a while, but bear with me), He's even more amazing than that.  We only have to create a 2-D picture on a flat surface.  He drew and colored everything from every possible angle under every possible factor.  In science classes they tell you to control the variables in an experiment, because the smallest difference changes everything.  Think about distance.  You can see a tree from 20 feet away and that's one picture.  But every molecule closer or farther away you get is yet a whole NEW picture!  Then there's the variable that everyone sees things differently and in different focuses.  And even that can change from one nano-second to the next!  Every angle is different!  There is an unlimited amount of ways you can view a single object.  Think about what it would be like if you translated all of those things into an actual number of physical paintings.  Mind blowing, huh?


He paints living art.

            Here's another point to think about though.  Of those uncountable numbers of paintings, imagine the tiny, minuscule percent of them that humans ever see!  Think of the billions of beautiful, constantly changing cloud formations that we NEVER see!  All of the amazing, twisted roots in funny shapes under the ground that no eye EVER saw!  All of the single flames flickering like rubies on the face of the sun!  Yet, they are still there.  He still made every painting, every little perfect detail...even though no one will ever see even close to 99.9999999% of them in the whole history of the world. 
 
          I feel really sad that of the things we DO see, it seems impossible for us to appreciate all of them.  No matter how hard we try, we will always think some paintings are ugly.  So not only do we only see a small portion of God's masterpieces, but the vast majority of them...nay...nearly ALL of them are disliked or go unnoticed or unappreciated.  But He still did it.  Still made every painting and every detail in every possible set of variables...though we might never see or like any of them.  He did all of this simply because...He is God...and He loves us...and He is the great artist of the world.


He is the great artist of the world.

  

Pictures Worth Their Own Story

         

          As an author, I'm constantly imagining.  Everything I see goes through my eyes, is translated, and gets sent to the Creative Department, then it gets put in the What If? machine.  When I hear a song, I hear a possible story soundtrack.  When I see a picture, I see a potential story.  That's one of the reasons why I like Pinterest so much.  I have 15 boards dedicated to book ideas.  Here are some pictures that instantly bring stories to mind.

     

This picture could go several different ways.  The girl's body position suggests either independence or, added with her slightly red nose and squinty eyes, sadness.  When I see this picture, I can imagine many different things about this girl.  Here are just a few.  1) She's been through some tough situations and is silently asking (with her eyes) the one person who might be able to help her for any last minute ideas.  2) She has been waiting for this kind of a challenge her whole life and she's not daunted by the prospect at all.  3) She's a nature fey, just daring you to try to follow her.  If you try she'll disappear into the snow and trees.  4) She's scared of the coming winter and the dangers ahead.  But as scared as she may be, she's not going to let fear stop her from taking care of her little brother and sister.

 

No matter which way you interpret this picture, you can't escape the girl's sheer joy.  1) She's the outcast in her small farming village.  She's quiet and dreamy.  When she takes the cows out to the moors she takes her father's old violin with her and plays music that embodies the spirit of the moor flowers and the joy of the soaring moor birds.  2) She is playing for a group of enraptured village children, which include her own small siblings.  She plays all their favorite nursery tunes and makes up simple songs to go along with the fairy stories she tells them.  3) She's a Elvin maiden who plays enchanted music to make the flowers bloom and create dwellings out of living trees.  4) She has a secret ability to use magic when she plays her violin.  Right now she is making her teasing, elder brothers and their friends hop about as their shoe laces tie themselves into knots, the straw brooms try to sweep them away, and the slop buckets upend over their heads.



1) This girl has been hunted for years for a crime she didn't commit.  She is constantly on the move.  She never stays in the same place for long.  She'd hoped that they'd eventually stop searching for her.  But in twelve years they've never given up.  Right now she can hear the song of the red-eyed hounds baying in the distance.  The rain will give her a head start...but not for long...  2) They were after Patrick.  But he couldn't run any more.  She'd left him covered in blankets and brush in a thicket.  He'd protested, but he was too weak by now to do anything but whisper.  She'd given him water and waited for him to pass out again.  The fever hadn't lessened in over four days.  She had to lead them away.  She took Patrick's cloak and then made marks on the trees in a circle around him.  Old Mag would find him.  Hopefully before it was too late.  But now it was time to run.  Letting the long cloak drag on the ground she darted through the trees until the came to the edge of the rolling hills.  She stopped to catch her breath near a group of rocks.  There was no where to hide out there.  But she had no choice.  She knew they were only hours behind her.  Steeling herself, she loped steadily through the rain.

 

1) Bitterness scarred her heart.  She'd never go back to her mother's house.  She'd rather die at sea than spend one more day there.  Even the memory of her father couldn't keep her there anymore.  Her mother called her reckless.  Well she had no idea...  2) Anger hardened her resolve.  Betrayers!  I'll be back one day.  They'll see just how quick my rapier can be.  They'll feel the kiss of its bite.  I will take back my father's lands.  This is not good-bye.  Just a promise of future revenge.



1) She carried the sun around in her pocket.  Only when she danced did she take it out and hold it aloft.  2) She was the dancing sun beams.  She was the orange sunset.  She was beautiful.  She was graceful.  She was the wife of the sun.



 

 Every century it was the same.  An immortal sorceress lived on the edge of a wood and collected herbs for a living.  Once every century, on the solstice she headed into the dark icy wood until she reached a clearing that was more than half full with a very large, very old, white dragon.  She set down her basket and reached up to touch his snout.  "Good to see you old friend."  The dragon snorted a shower of icy sparks over her in response.  Smiling she reached for a handful of the contents of her basket.  little by little, she fed the thyme to the dragon.  He began to shrink and grow healthy again.  Soon he was the size of a strong yearling and came up only to her knee.  The sorceress dusted off her hands and stroked the dragon's wings.  He rubbed his head against her leg and nibbled playfully at the hem of her skirt.     



 As the final preparations were being made she slipped away.  Caleb and Lauren would take care of last minute details.  She removed her sword and sheath from her belt and sat by a stream.  Looking down the valley she took a moment to appreciate the calm.  As soon as the sun cleared the mountain pass the battle would begin.  Lives would be lost today.  One of them could be hers.  She wanted to give into fear, but she was the one everyone would be looking to for strength.  She allowed herself the luxury of worrying for a few minutes.  What if we fail?  What if I die?  What if I fail my people?  What if I'm too scared?  A bird called in a high sinning voice from a nearby tree.  She took a deep breath of the cold winter air.  She watched the sun creep over the horizon and savored the last few minutes of peace before the storm. 

 Ren was long gone.  It had been years since he'd been called to the sea.  He had no choice.  As his father before him he became the heart and soul of the sea.  His spirit dissolved into the waves and he ruled the oceans as an invisible Lord.  Yet even with all his great power, he could not buy one more minute of time by his young bride's side.  He hadn't meant to fall in love.  He knew it would only end in heartache for both of them.  But when he explained his prewritten destiny to Marline, she said she'd rather enjoy the few years that they had together.  So they married, and when Ren was called to fulfill his duty, Marline became the wife of the sea.  She'd go down to he shore and stand on the rocks.  She'd listen to the crash of the waves and imagine she heard Ren's voice.  He still took care of her.  She was never in want of fresh food from the sea, and whenever she traveled out in her small boat the waves calmed before the bow and the current pushed her on without aid.  Marline was only melancholy when she was called away from the coast.  As long as she could smell the salt spray and feel the sea wind, she felt like Ren was right beside her with his arm around her shoulders.



She was one of the pack.  At night her black hair mingled with the many shades of gray, white, and black fur as they all lay close together for warmth.  She ran with them during the day.  The snow and the cold didn't bother her at all.  Her feet were bare, but she felt nothing.  She knew every pack member by name.  They accepted her just as she accepted them.  They were a family. 



          Every now and then if I find a picture that really speaks to me I'll post it here with my thoughts on the story behind it.