"When I write stories I am like someone who is in her own country, walking along streets that she has known since she was a child, between walls and trees that are hers." --Natalia Ginsburg

Wednesday, 15 May 2013

Shhhhhh...Mother Holle is Sleeping

Winter was relentless this year. Several weeks ago I read an email from a young friend who said in her part of the world Mother Holle was still shaking her pillow. Puzzled, I googled the name. I found a fairy tale about a character, Mother  Holle, who when having her feather pillow shaken in her world, it would snow in our world. I enjoyed the story and smiled ruefully as I watched big fat wet snowflakes fall from the sky outside my kitchen window.

About a week later I was walking into my sister’s house and stopped to tilt my head and listen to the  bird chatter, and a few hours later when I left her house I was delighted to hear the little Peeper frogs singing their night-song from the pond below her home. Spring was awakening.

When I got up the next morning I looked at the tall birch trees outside my bedroom window to see if I could spot the beginning of leaves yet. From then on I checked every morning. I smiled to myself a few days later as I was descending the stairs. It had rained a tiny bit the night before—just enough to coax the buds out on the trees.

Over the next few days the lawns and meadows slowly turned lush green. Sweet grass and damp earth filled the air with the scent of new life as bouquets of bluettes covered the lawn with their lacy blossoms. Dandelions burst forth dotting the fields with their cheerful objectionable abundance.A little friend and I checked often to see if the daffodils had poked their sunlit heads through their glossy leaves. 

The tall birch trees in the yard are now clothed in their green splendor. Soon the apple and pear trees will fill the air with the grace and fragrance of their blossoms.You can hear the low rumble of lawn mowers in the distance and the heady scent of fresh cut grass fills my senses.

I want to climb to the top of the birch tree,(picture that if you will), and shout my joy to the world; but I won't. Number one--I am scared of heights. Number two?? Listen carefully. Hear that? Mother Holle is snoring softly.


She has FINALLY laid her troublesome head on those pillows and I wish her to sleep soundly for a good long time. 

Link to Mother Holle:

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