The Hope of Spring

Don't we all love Susanna Leonard Hill? Here she goes again, giving us a great opportunity to write a story for children, this time with a Valentine theme.

Here's mine, dear Valentiny friends :)

Little Miss Bright-eyes Chickaree

hopped out of her nest in the cottonwood tree.

She was kind of hoping it would soon be spring

And all the birds would start to sing.

The sky would be blue, the sun would shine

And she would dance with her Valentine.

But Jack Frost nipped her nose and her toes

She snuffled and sneezed and her whiskers froze.

“I’m sure spring will soon be here,” she said

as she popped back into her cosy bed.

A day or two later she looked out again.

This time she was soaked by the icy rain.

“Forget about spring,” cried the squirrel next door.

“Winter will stay for evermore!”

Poor little Bright-eyes Chickaree,

 hid in her nest in the cottonwood tree.

The world was wintry, cold and grey,

Bur surely spring would arrive one day!

On Valentine’s morning she opened her eyes

And goodness gracious, what a surprise!

Squirrel Bushtail was there at her door,

With a posy of flowers clasped in his paw.

“Oh, Miss Bright-eyes, look what I found.

“Snowdrops poking their heads through the ground.

“When these brave little flowers start to appear

“We can be sure that spring is almost here!”

“The sky will be blue, the sun will shine,

“And I’ll dance with you, sweet Valentine!

LIGHT ON DARK MOUNTAIN

It's that wonderful time again when we enter Susanna Leonard Hill's Holiday Contest. This year, a story in no more than 250 words that contains a surprise. Here's mine!





It was dusk on a mid-winter evening when Tansy ran away.

The gate was open and I could just make out her footprints in the snow. She was heading for Dark Mountain and I had to get her back. That little donkey was the only friend I had.

 Hour after hour I climbed, battling the icy wind. At first the beam from my torch only followed donkey hoofs. But then the tracks of other creatures began to appear in the snow. Why were they climbing Dark Mountain in the middle of the night?

 Faintly I heard music and saw a halo of light. The night no longer seemed so cold and the climb was not so hard.

Then, in a single moment, the mountainside was transformed. Menorahs, kinaras and Christmas candles cast their shimmering glow to the skies. The stars were spinning, angels were singing and children of every race were dancing together in the snow and singing the angel song. There were reindeer dancing with them, camels and wildebeest, and one little donkey named Tansy, the happiest dancer of all.

Just as it came, it all faded away and I led my donkey home.

But who was this coming to meet us? A party of village folk.

“There was no light in your window, Sam. You didn’t answer your door. We were worried, so we came looking for you. Happy Holiday!”

And I was warmly wrapped up in hugs and smiles.  I did have friends after all!

ANOTHER HALLOWEENSIE TALE!

I'm having so much fun with 100 word stories for Susanna Leonard Hill's Halloweensie Contest. Three of those words have to be Monster, Shadow and Candy Corn.

Here we go again. Entry number two!

You Just Never Know!

We three went out one Halloween to play a game of “Dare”.

Tom was a monster. He had to jump out of the shadows as our teacher cycled by.

Lucy had to hang her grinning pumpkin from the top of a tree.

I had to Trick or Treat at the creepy house they said belonged to a witch.

I almost ran as a wrinkled old woman slowly opened the door.  

Thank you, child.” She smiled tearfully as she held out some candy corn. “I’ve waited so many years for a Trick or Treat. You’re the first one who ever came!”

SUSANNA'S HALLOWEENSIE CONTEST!

Here it is! Children's author and blogger extraordinaire Susanna Leonard Hill's 7th Annual Halloweensie Contest. This is the first time I've entered, but here goes.

The challenge is to write a Halloween-themed story for children using no more than 100 words. Three of those words have to be MONSTER, SHADOW and CANDY CORN, or derivatives of.

WHO SCARED WHO?

Said  Mother Owl to little Wowee,

“You had better stay home with me.

‘There are Halloweenish things out tonight,

'creep-about things that might give you a fright.”

Wowee peeped from his hole in a tree,

to see what scary things he could see.

There were witchetty, monsterish, shadow-loom things,

black cat and bat things on scratch-scraggle wings.

Then came a sound soooo ghooostly and weird,

 they all cried eeek! and disappeared.

Safe in his bed, munching candy corn,

Little Wowee said with a yawn,

 “They were frightened away by The Great  Whooo-ooo”

   Said Mother Owl “Dearest, that Whooo-ooo was you!”

WHERE WILL THE SMIFFIES TAKE US?

An Adventure in Creativity

The YES! Factor. Everyone with the faintest hint of creativity in their DNA knows it. Whether it’s writing, painting, composing, designing, whatever, the moment comes.

It’s the time when a glimmer of an idea, an unformed possibility, suddenly throws off its haziness and leaps off the back burner, demanding to become real. From a vague ‘maybe’, it wants to become a ‘Yes, let’s do it’. Or at least a ‘Let’s give it our best’.

Suddenly we are faced with something that demands everything we can give it, and maybe more. But what can we say, except ‘Yes’?

So it is with me and the Smiffies and friends. But let me explain. One of the things I care about most in this world is children who suffer because of wars. They don’t deserve it. It isn’t their fault. Yet so often they suffer the most. I do all I can to help them. One way is to fundraise for organizations that care for them as much as I do. I have a stall at our local market selling pre-loved books. People are very good and kind. They donate books and they buy books. My stall does well and I know that the money I raise makes a difference to the lives of refugee children all over the world. But I want to do more. I hope to do that as a children’s author.

The Smiffies and friends live in Auntie Tia’s garden. They have adventures that will delight small children and I plan to share them through a series of hand-crafted books and cards for the very young. I can spin the stories, but I am no artist. For that I turn to my lovely 17 year-old grand-daughter, Tia, a gifted photographer. Together we will bring Smiffies and friends vividly and joyfully to life. Proceeds will go to refugee children. Please stay with us, because we need you.  And thank you, so much!

The Dartmoor Donkey

The first chilly days of winter have arrived here at the Hooting Owl. What better way to spend a grey, drizzly afternoon than in front of the fire in the snug? And while we’re cosy inside, what better time for a story about a bleak and wintry, windswept place?

Dartmoor is a vast area of moorland in Devon, England. Sometimes desolate, sometimes lonely, yet often beautiful in its own way, Dartmoor, has many myths and legends going back to ancient times. But the story I am going to tell you is true.

Many years ago I visited some friends who lived in a small village on the edge of Dartmoor. As we sat together by a warm fire, much like the one we are gathered around now, my friends told me of something that had happened only a year or two before.

It had been a long, harsh winter in Devon, the worst they could remember. Day and night heavy snowstorms swept across the moors, piling into drifts higher than a human being and burying every road and pathway, so that everything became one huge white wilderness.

Even though the villagers managed to clear the snow from their doorways, there was no way they could get out of the village. And there was no way that any kind of vehicle could get in. Children couldn’t go to school, nobody could get to work. There were no shops in the village, but usually everyone drove into the town, about ten miles away, or rode on the bus. But now they were completely cut off from the rest of the world.

At first that wasn’t so bad. Everyone had food in their larder and wood for their fire. But that was only for a while. Food and all the other items that everyone usually bought in the town began to run out. Worse perhaps, medicines that sick people needed couldn’t be bought either. Things were getting very grim.

There was one farmer who owned a donkey. It was a tough, sturdy little creature and the farmer had an idea. From odds and ends of timber that he had in his shed, he built a large sleigh. Then he harnessed the donkey to the sleigh, climbed aboard himself and set off across the snow-covered landscape. Neither he nor the donkey could trace where the road was supposed to be. They just had to trust that they could find their way to the town.

Hour after hour, mile after mile, the donkey plodded through the snowdrifts, pulling the sleigh behind him. Somehow his little hooves and strong legs kept going, even in places where a man would have sunk in.

At last they reached the place where a road had been cleared into the town. The farmer was able to load up his sleigh with food, medicine and all the other things that the trapped villagers needed. Then the donkey turned around and began to pull his even heavier load back home. It must have taken all the strength and courage he had, but that donkey finally made it back to the village. There he went around all the houses and the farmer delivered the much-needed goods to the whole community.

At last signs of spring began to appear. The sun shone, the snow slowly melted and once again the villagers could begin to go about their normal lives. But they didn’t forget the donkey and what he had done for them.

On a bright, sunny day in early summer, the children made a flower crown for the donkey. The farmer led him down the street and everyone came out to cheer their four-legged hero. It was the donkey’s day and he deserved it.

True story!