GREENHOUSE - a story in 100 words

GREENHOUSE

Zena dressed the children carefully – trousers, long-sleeved shirts, wide-brimmed hats, sunglasses, Factor 100 on exposed skin.

“Are we going to the beach, Mummy?”

Sometimes Zena took them for a picnic under the ruins of the pier, but keeping them in the shade was exhausting. “No – today’s a surprise.”

When they reached the Dome Zena bundled them up in warm jackets - air-conditioning kept the temperature down to a cool 40 – but their awe at their first sight of a tree made the journey worthwhile.

With tears in her eyes she told them, “This is how it used to be.”

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This story may very well be prophetic, the way we're treating our world at the moment. I shudder for my grandchildren. There are countries still too poor to do their share of the repair, but the richer countries should be picking up the slack, and they're not. I was born in Australia, so the dreadful fires there are breaking my heart. 

Enough of politics! Thanks to J Hardy Carroll for the photograph, which reminded me of a tropical rainforest dome I visited in Australia 30 years ago, and the thoughts combined to inspire this story. Thanks also to Rochelle, our genial host on Friday Fictioneers on her blog  https://rochellewisoff.com/

THIRTY-NINE STEPS - a 100 word story for Friday Fictioneers

THIRTY-NINE STEPS

The villagers called Seth simple, but his mother was a witch – if he wanted to build his staircase, no-one was brave enough to stop him.

When he carried log after log up the hill they mocked. “Those steps are far too big!” and “Who wants to go up there?”

Seth simply smiled. “You’ll thank me one day.”

Then the rain came – first a downpour then a deluge. The stream became a river, Old Jake’s cottage washed away, and the villagers retreated uphill.

Each over-large step held a family and, until the flood receded, there they stayed - scared and soggy but safe.

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There are a few people in parts of England who would have welcomed some steps to higher ground a few days ago, but the sun has now returned. Thanks as always to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on https://rochellewisoff.com/  and to Karen Rawson for the photo prompt.

Her photograph also reminds me of a trip many years ago to the Flinders Ranges in South Australia, where heavy rain turned a trickling stream into a raging torrent within half an hour, underlining the valuable lesson - don't mess with Nature.

I am feeling happy this week, as I and my novel A Volcanic Race have been given a lovely write-up on the Subscriber Spotlight pages of Writing Magazine's June issue. The article has already nudged one friend into buying a copy - click on the image at the top of this page if you would like to follow suit.

E for EXPAT = the A-Z Challenge

EXPATS from all nations settle here in Tenerife.
 Although Don and I have integrated into the local area and have friends from several countries, our nearest bar is an English one. The British accents you would hear there include Scouse and Geordie, Southern, Midlands, Cockney, Devonshire and of course Irish and Scottish.  This was the crowd that gathered to celebrate my birthday last year. (I'm second from the left in the striped dress.)

 Other Europeans fly south for several months each winter, and are therefore known locally as Swallows. Many own a property here but others simply rent apartments, often meeting up with the same friends each year. Some enjoy the Canarian food but others prefer to stick to what they know, hence the proliferation of restaurants offering 'Traditional roast dinners' and 'Full English breakfasts'.

There are also expats from mainland Spain and several South American countries, plus Portugal, Italy, Russia, Holland, Germany, Bulgaria, France, Africa. Our group of friends here are Italian, Columbian and Venezuelan.

And finally, a poem about another expat. 

I was born in Australia and taken to England while still a baby. Betty was a gift from my godmother when I was born and I would rescue her from a fire before any of my other possessions.

BETTY

 

Betty is Australian,

Betty is a doll,

she didn’t study opera

or become Ned Kelly’s Moll –

she went to Victor Harbour

in nineteen-forty-four

to live with Baby Lizy

in her house by the shore.

They played out in the sunshine

under the kumquat trees,

or on the beach on a rug to keep

the sand off Baby’s knees;

they saw kangaroos and parrots

and gum trees on their walks,

and snakes, and grapes, and lots of flies,

so they wore hats with corks!

They sailed away to England

when Betty was just two,

past India, Africa, Egypt, and

the Bay of Biscay; through

from summer sun to winter –

it was all strange to eyes

used to eucalyptus trees

and wide Australian skies.

But there were woollen gloves, and snow

and crumpets on the hearth,

and, in the springtime, daffodils,

halfway round the earth --

so Betty became English, though

years later, when she went

back home, the eucalyptus filled

her soul with long-lost scent.

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BETTY'S BIRTHDAY

Betty is 70 today!  

She was born in Australia, and came to live with me when I was born. She travelled all the way to England in 1946 - on an unconverted troop ship that took six weeks to get there via the Suez Canal.
Fourteen years ago she moved to Tenerife, where she sits in my bedroom waiting to offer comfort when needed. She's a very loyal friend, and I love her dearly.
Happy Birthday Betty.

Oh yes - and my two daughters are here to help us celebrate!

 ps. if you would like to read the poem I wrote for Betty, go to my Toy Poems page.

FELIZ DIA DE MADRE!

  Today is Mothers' Day in Tenerife, which I can't help thinking is quite appropriate only a few days after Labour Day.

In honour of the occasion I have copied onto my POEMS page (on the right) a poem I wrote when my own children were small, more years ago than I care to remember.

This photograph was the only studio portrait my own mother ever had taken, probably for the benefit of her parents before she left Australia with my father and me to live in England.






Two boys and another girl later, she was still smiling.

Here we all are in 1961 - I'm the moody teenager on the left!

Now Mum has twelve grandchildren and eleven great-grandchildren. I took this photo on Mothers' Day in England in March this year - doesn't she look great?

HAPPY MOTHERS' DAY (again) MUM XX