Blogging from A to Z in April - The Letter B - Thursday 2nd April 2015

My A to Z for 2015 is inspired by Tina Downey's Postcards from Sweden from 2012. I am looking at English and Swedish words that I like and that have a special meaning for me.

Thursday 2nd April 2015 - The Letter B.















B is for Bilberries (Blueberries). The Swedish word for bilberries is blåbär.

Bilberries, these small blueberry plants to be found covering Northern European forest floors, are the stuff of which childhood dreams are made. They are like doll-size trees, tiny orchards with blue-violet apples. Swedish artist-illustrator-children's author, Elsa Beskow, understood this and created a beautiful picture-book about a little boy who dreamed about shrinking to the size of an elf and getting help from the little people to fill his basket with bilberries.

 

I had intended to show some of Elsa Beskow's images from this lovely children's book, Puttes äventyr i blåbärsskogen (1901), but the Wikipedia page for this is not completed. However, I am using Wikipedia photos to show what bilberries look like.

 

No, wait! I've found an English translation, Peter in Blueberry Land, on Amazon: 

Thanks for visiting!

Best wishes,

Anna

First Commenter:
Laura Clipson

WEP-Challenge for 31st October 2014 - Ghost Story

Welcome to WEP's Challenge for 29th-31st October, Ghost Story.

For some reason, October's spooky challenge is usually the high point of our writing year. Halloween is the one night of the year when ghost stories are expected - within the English-speaking world.  Here in Sweden, Halloween is a newly introduced way of celebrating a holiday that used to only consist of lighting candles on graves.



 


















I tried writing a ghost story, but my heart was just not in it. What I am offering are some photos documenting my daughter, Elisabet, and her schoolmate, Maria, together with my son, Erik, dressing up and going around our neighbourhood 'trick-or-treating'.

Elisabet and Matilda, the cat, before Halloween make-up.

When Elisabet told me that they were going to do this alone, without an accompanying adult, I said no. They are only ten years old and these are apartment buildings, in the middle of city, not a suburban development or farms, where everyone knows everyone.





















For two days, I helped Elisabet draw pumpkins, print them out and hand-colour them to make 'Happy Halloween' - cards. (One of the reasons why my ghost-story never was finished. Oh well. Probably no great loss.)

Notice the black nail polish om Elisabet's fingers. I applied it.

 




























We went to the toy store to buy a new Halloween costume, black garb including a witch's hat with attached green-coloured wig.

Maria and Elisabet apply make-up for their scarey roles.

 

Erik as the Grim Reaper!

Maria in the middle has chosen to be a vampire.

Halloween make up inspired by the green-faced wicked witch of the west from the 1939 film, The Wizard of Oz. Many of you may remember this film. I do. This is Margaret Hamilton, who played the double role of Miss Almira Gulch / The Wicked Witch of the West. (I'm looking for a photo of Margaret Hamilton with green face makeup, but can't find any.)

Click on image to get to Wikipedia

Maria threatens to drink my blood. Elisabet casts a spell.

Click on image to get to Amazon UK

They are off, and the weather has been unusually mild.

My trio marching towards their first victims.

Surprisingly, they were given quite a lot of candy! I expected them to come home empty-handed, as this is too new of a practice. It is not a Swedish tradition, and I have mixed feelings about its introduction. But since I took a course in ethology in my youth, I understand that there is always a reason for why people start celebrating holidays.  My immediate guess is that this is a tradition that appeals to the 'tweens', or 'pre-teens', eight to twelve year-olds, just my children's age right now. 

There is a Swedish begger-tradition, with the children dressing up as Easter-witches with broomsticks and copper-kettles, and go around giving neighbours handmade cards with 'Glad Påsk!' (Happy Easter!) on them. But this is a tradition for small children, and mother usually tags along, at a distance if nothing else.

My guess is that Halloween appeals to pre-teen children because it is a first step toward independence. And there is so much from the outside world (read= English-speaking world) that supports the mythology of ghosts, witches and vampires, that are the stock characters for this holiday. And it feels a little dangerous for a ten-year-old to dress up like a banshee and actually knock on neighbours' doors.

I compromised. I let the girls do this if they let Erik go with them.  

Erik claims that celebrating Halloween comes from Germany. I'll have to check on that. The Christmas tree came from Germany with Martin Luther. Or so my mother told me once when I was a child. I'll have to check on that too.

When  dividing up the spoils of the afternoon (they came home before dark), they put everything that they did not like in a pile -  liquorice, tough so-called chewy sticks, sour drops and bad chocolate - and gave it to me. Thank you sweetums!

Dividing the spoils

Word count according to WordCalc: Not Applicable.

 

Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:

D.G.Hudson
Rainforest Writing

 

WEP-Challenge for June - ROMANCE - Wednesday 24th - Friday 26th June 2014

Welcome to WEP's Blogfest for June [=Write-Edit-Publish, formerly 'Romantic Friday Writers'] WEP's Challenge for 24th-2th June 2014 is 'Romance':

Romance: On the Sea of Litorina

Klara Nilsson lay in the inflatable row boat that she had purchased before the flooding began. The sky was blue with puffy white clouds. She was exhausted from a whole day of rowing and all the preparations in the days before. The water seemed calm now; maybe she could sleep an hour or two. But instead of resting, she thought of the events that made her leave home in a rubber boat made for play in a swimming pool rather than escape from a flood.

It was June when the nights are short. Since there seemed not to be a change in this, Klara concluded that the earth had not been knocked off its axis. The floods must have some other cause. But she had no idea where all the water came from. Where, if not from the melting polar caps? There was no way to find out. All electronic communication was down. Her battery-operated radio did not pick up anything other than static. Her mobile phone was useless. If Klara's theory was correct, the plains of Östergötland, her province, would be under water in the same places as the prehistoric sea of Litorina. In case she was right about this, she took a modern map and drew a new coastline after maps she had found in a book about Swedish archeology. She hoped to find higher ground before her boat hit something sharp that would pierce it and sink it. For the moment, there was nothing but water in all directions; no landmarks to direct her. Using a makeshift sextant and her compass, she could almost exactly pin point where she was on her map.

Unable to sleep, Klara checked her bearings and continued rowing. In the twilight that is the short northern summer night, a small object caught her eye. It was a floating wooden crate with a wet blanket in it. She came closer to the crate and saw that the blanket lifted its head with pointed ears. It was a cat. Klara rowed slowly closer trying not to scare the feline castaway.

'Would you like to sail with me?' she asked the cat as a way of calming it while she reached over and picked it up and wrapped it in a towel.

'Thank you,' said the grey tabby laying her cheek on Klara's shoulder. 

Am I loosing my mind? Did that cat actually say something? Klara thought, holding the cat like a baby. Was this the next step after loosing her home and everything she owned? One way to find out was to keep talking with her foundling. 'You remind me of my cat, Mathilda. Your face is like hers, with the little tuffs of fur on the tips of your ears like the Norwegian Forest Cats.

'I don't just look like your cat, I AM your cat. I'm Mathilda. Thanks for finding me! It's not been easy since water came and covered everything. I've been soaked to the skin for days.'

The joy of finding her cat, Mathilda alive again, made Klara forget about her losses for a time. She and her cat lay in the boat under a blanket and actually slept for a few hours. When Klara awoke the sky was overcast and it smelled like rain. They must have drifted closer to land, as the tops of trees were now visible above the water-line, as well as a few roof tops. It was exciting, but also dangerous. They were getting closer to their goal, but any sharp object in the water could sink their boat. Through the forest of tree tops Klara could see a man rowing a boat - a wooden one. Should she wave or say 'Hello'?

'Hello!' shouted the man in the wooden boat, beating her to the punch, ' Do you need any help?'

'No, not yet. But my boat may not hold up the closer we get to land. How far is it to the new shoreline?'

'About twenty minutes from here. Here, let me take your boat in tow and row the rest of the way.' the man offered. He looked a bit like a prehistoric man, unwashed, uncombed and unshaven. But when Klara rowed closer, she saw that he was handsome with kindly blue eyes. He probably wore just a mustache to begin with, but now had almost a full beard. 'My name is Jakob Lundin, and you are?'

'Klara Nilsson, and this is Mathilda,' she said holding up the blanket bundle with the sleeping cat.

'Oh my. Do you have an infant with you?' Jakob said with surprise and alarm.

'Oh no, it's my cat, Mathilda', she said revealing Mathilda's furry face. 

Klara half expected Mathilda to speak to the strange man. But the cat said nothing, much to Klara's relief. Maybe the cat's ability to talk was an hallucination.

But then, Mathilda put her face close to Klara's ear and said, 'I will not embarrass you by speaking in front of strangers. Let him think that I am an ordinary cat.'

Jakob Lundin tied Klara's boat to his and rowed quickly toward the new coast, which had been a car park earlier before being transformed into a boat dock. When they arrived, it was crowded with wet refugees and their boats or vessels of every description, inflatable row boats like Klara's, children's plastic pools, as well as traditional boats like Jakob's. 

'What do we do now?' asked Klara.

'We pull our boats up on land and start making supper. I have a camping stove, what do you have?' asked Jakob, obviously hoping that Klara could contribute something.

'I cleaned out my pantry, refrigerator and freezer, before leaving home, but I don't have any cooking utensils or stove. So, I'm all for sharing, if you would like to do that.'

'Yes please. Let's do that,' said Jacob and smiled.

 Mathilda yawned and went back to sleep.
 

Word count according to WordCalc: 997.


P.S.

This text is a work of fiction. Any similarity to events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

This text is my attempt to write science fiction and it could be a part of a longer work. What has happened is that the plains of Östergötland (where I live in Sweden) are flooded because the polar caps have started to melt, due to yet unexplained forces in outer space such as meteorites hitting the earth and changing its axis. But no one knows for sure, because all electronic communication has been knocked out. The University of Linköping (where I study) is under water. Our heroine is one of the few who saw it coming, and took the precaution of purchasing an inflatable boat before they were all sold out. The name 'Litorina' is actually the name of a body of water that existed under prehistoric times in this part of Sweden. 'Litorina' is a shell fish that could be found in that sea at that time. 

I am not the first to use the Sea of Litorina in a literary connection.

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Best wishes,
Anna










First Commenter:

Denise Covey

of 
Denise Covey 
and
Write...Edit...Publish

'Ties That Bind' - 'The House Call' - Romantic Friday Writers Challenge No 28 - Friday 30th December 2011

Welcome to the Romantic Friday Writing Bi-Weekly Challenge, started and hosted by DeniseCovey_L'Aussie, where participants share their own 300-400-word text on a given theme. This week's theme for Friday, 30th December, Challenge No. 28, is 'Ties That Bind'. My text is written directly for this REW-challenge.

Here is my text :
-------

The House-Call

She was only fourteen in 1941,
And had just taken one step away from childhood,
When she fell ill with high fever and red spots.

It was late December,
And colder than ever remembered,
There was war everywhere else except here.

A very bad strain of an infectious disease spread throughout the town.
Several children had already died.
Although an unoccupied country,
It was still not a good place to become ill.

Water-pipes froze in apartment buildings,
So tenants had no drinking-water.
But their house was better built.

There were no heaters in motor vehicles,
Not even in ambulances,
Should she be taken to hospital?
She was better off at home.

In fever-dreams she heard the doctor say:
'She won't last the night'.
But she didn't care.
She was going to Heaven.

Her temperature was almost 40 degrees Celsius.*
Outside, it was almost minus 40 degrees Celsius.**

But she didn't care.
She had just taken one step away from childhood,
And now one step away from life.

The young doctor thought of a new drug that might help her.
He took it upon himself to fetch Sulfa at the army compound.
That was where the lastest medicines were first tried out.
But what dose should he use? Would the same dose for a tall soldier?
Be too strong for a fourteen-year-old girl?

The Sulfa worked.
The fever broke.
It seemed that she would survive.
But she went into a coma,
That lasted twenty-one days.

With no way to feed her or give her drink,
She nearly starved to death.

But after three weeks she woke up.
She looked like a prisoner of war,
Who just left a concentration camp.
The skirt she once wore fell off when she tried to stand;
And then she fell, because she could neither walk nor stand.

So much forgotten during three weeks' sleep.
She had forgotten what she had learned in school, too.
She had just taken one step from childhood,
But it seemed to be one step back into infancy.

Mother, Father and Nurse, all took turns walking with her,
So much to relearn,
If she were to return to life,
And everything exhausted her.

It was now she recalled what she heard the doctor say,
In her fever-dream,
Now she understood,
And cared,
And cried and cried;
She felt afraid,
And knew that she had almost died,
But was restored to life.

------

Word count according to WordCalc: 400; 'FCA' (Full Critique Acceptable)

Footnotes:
*40 degrees Celsius = 104 degrees Fahrenheit
** minus 40 degrees Celsius = minus 40 degrees Fahrenheit

[Text copyright 2011 Christina Wigren]






------
Best wishes,
Anna

P.S.
This poem/story is based on fact. The girl in the story is someone whom I know very well and who is still alive today as I write this text.

Sulfa was a new drug in 1941; it was later used to induce coma when needed; but they did not know that back then. This was before antibiotics (which would not have helped much because the Measles is a viral infection) and before the use of IV-bags/bottles to hydrate or medicate a patient.

Sorry about the lack of romance, folks! This is actually a real-life Cinderella-story. But this is only 'part one'; she meets her prince in 'part two'.
------
If I were to write a purely fictional story, I could make the young doctor fall in love with the girl whose life he saved. But that is not what actually happened. I feel it is my duty to keep this story as true to the original facts as possible.

I am fascinated by the idea that one person's actions can help another person survive or let them die. In this case, I wish I knew more about the facts. I could kick myself for not asking the right questions at a time when I had access to a person who was there at the time. I am not sure that the doctor had this medicine with him when he visited the fever-ridden girl. Maybe he really did have to make a trip out in minus 40 degree weather in order to get the Sulfa. What possessed him to do that? Youthful curiosity? A sense of professional pride and duty? Or did the fact that his boss was a close friend of the girl's father make him try a little harder?

There are so many questions that I may never find a definite answer to. Did he suffer afterward, as a result of this outing in the bitter cold? Or maybe he was dressed well enough. Was the fact that other young patients had died of the Measles a factor in his decision? Maybe he decided that he would do all that was possible so that there would be no more deaths?

What I would like to do for this doctor, is to at least find out who he was. There is a hospital archive through which I may be able to identify him. I would like to honour the memory of the man who saved the life of this girl in 1941, seventy years ago.

First Commenter:
Denise Covey
of
L'Aussie Denise

To read other texts for Romantic Friday Writers Challenge No. 28, with the theme 'Ties That Bind', please visit this site or click on the image below:

Etsy shop Pärlträdet/parltradet is in a Treasury!

Best wishes,
Anna