Picture caption: Jeanneke Pis statue in BrusselsPicture caption: Black Tower in Brussels. I could see this historical landmark from my hotel room.Picture caption: Giant meringues in a shop window.
The next three pictures are all smurfs made of chocolate that featured in the window of Neuhaus Chocolatier in Brussels.
Picture caption: The famous Mannekin Pis in Brussels
I am back from my trip to London and Brussels. It was very busy, and I didn’t do much reading of any kind. I do have lots of pictures to share with you over the next few weeks.
First, my review of Tidalscribe Tales by Janet Gogerty.
Picture caption: cover of Tidalscribe Tales by Janet Gogerty featuring a beach and ocean scene.
What Amazon says
Tales light and dark, bending reality, unexpected endings… Dip into an ABC of stories including four chapters of flash fiction.
My review
A delightful and unusual collection of short stories. The stories are widely varied in their topics, but each has a common thread of the human experience that is nicely captured by the characters who are well developed, despite the length of the stories.
I enjoyed the Englishness of these stories which is reflected in the reactions and dialogue of the characters. The author has captured the essence of the English very well and it was entertaining and relatable for me.
My three favourite of the stories:
A New Family Member – this is the opening story in the collection and is about a man who wants to get a dog for himself and a family. He has specific requirements as to the size and look of the dog as it will be a bit of an ego extension for him. The moral is that you must be careful what you ask for as you just might get it.
Dream Machine – an intriguing tale about a unsatisfied school teacher who dreams of being a famous writer. He believes he has his best ideas while sleeping but can’t remember the details when he wakes up. If only he could write down his dreams as the sleeps. Nothing in life is ever as you expect it to be as is revealed by this fascinating short story.
Trinity Tree – a story about nature’s revenge on a spoiled and selfish man. I was delighted that nature, for once, got the upper hand in this intriguing short story.
A well writing and highly entertaining collection of short stories that will make you think.
This month, I have featured the Southern yellow billed hornbill as my In Touch With Nature featured creature. Such a lovely and interesting bird. Thanks to Kaye Lynne Booth for hosting.
I am having trouble with reblogs. The button doesn’t bring up a link to the post like it used to. Now, that button just creates a blank page on my blog and I have to manually copy and paste the link. It is a nuisance as I can’t reblog nearly as quickly or easily. Is anyone else experiencing this problem?
When I was a young girl of eight years old, my grandparents moved to a farm in what is now the Northwest Province of South Africa. The farmhouse was old and primitive, built from stone and with a gas water heater in an outside room for washing, bathing, and all other activities requiring hot water. The kitchen had an ancient wood-burning oven and a single electric plug for the refrigerator. There was a gas hob for daily cooking.
When my father took us to visit our grandparents for a weekend, my mother was horrified by the conditions. Hayley was a baby of about six months old, and Catherine was four. I remember my mother struggling to get us all washed and ready for bed both nights. She was distressed, but I thought it was great fun. I imagined Catherine and I were Carrie and Laura Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie.
The first morning, Saturday, the neighbouring farmer and his young son came to visit my grandparents. The son was twelve and had a diesel engine quad bike for driving around the farm. He offered to take me for a ride. I was thrilled until my father warned me about the acacia thorns. The area was densely populated with trees that grew long, sharp thorns of between 8 and 10 centimetres in length. He said, these thorns could puncture a quad bike tire and cause it to crash. Quad bikes were, in his opinion, very dangerous. I learned much later in life that his friend’s son had been killed on a quad bike. Despite his dislike of quad bikes, he didn’t say I couldn’t go for the ride. Nope, he just ruined it by scaring me to death about the thorns. “The thorns can go right through the sole of your shoe and lacerate your foot. Acacia sap and thorns contain irritating toxins which trigger a severe inflammatory response in the soft tissues and bones,” he said. I was terrified and his well-meant warning completely spoiled my quad bike adventure. I just wanted to get back to the farmhouse and stay inside where I was safe from thorns.
To this day, I am scared of thorns. If I look at a picture of a thorn or read about a thorn, my eyes start to prick, and I close them protectively. My dad’s words resulted a lifelong fear of thorns. It astonishes me, when I think back, as he was really being overly dramatic. The thorns will do the things he said, but it is rare for a person to injure themselves by stepping on an acacia thorn. They are so long, they are difficult to miss when walking. I am not, however, fearful of quad bikes.
thorn anxiety
led to phobia for life
eyes prickle and burn
Picture caption: A small acacia tree with its long thorns
Picture caption: lilac breasted roller in a treePicture caption: My favourite picture of a vervet monkey in a treePicture caption: Brown snake eagle Picture caption: a kingfisher. I think it’s called a white breasted kingfisher but I’m not sure. Perhaps one of the bird watcher readers could confirm in the comments
Merril’s challenge for d’Verse: Poetics is as follows: So, today’s prompt is to write about that thin line between triumph and defeat, or if you’d like, you may focus on one or the other. You may respond to the poetic examples or the painting, as well.
Today, I am sharing a few pictures from our visit to Kaminarimon Gate (Thunder Gate) in Tokyo. Kaminarimon Gate, which stands at the entrance to the processional road leading to Senso-ji, is Asakusa’s most famous landmark. Inside the gate, standing on either side are enormous wooden statues of the protective Buddhist deities Fujin (wind god) and Raijin (thunder god) after which the gate is named.
Picture caption: Thunder GatePicture caption: Dragon image underneath the large lantern beneath the gatePicture caption: Side view of Thunder GatePicture caption: Thunder godPicture caption: Wind god
When I was a little girl of seven, my cousin received a plaster of paris moulding set for a birthday gift. The set was a Disney theme and included moulds of various popular characters including Mickey and Minnie Mouse, Goofy, Pluto, and Donald and Daisy Duck. The kit included plaster of paris power and water-based paints with two paint brushes.
One look at that kit and I was envious. I wanted a kit like it, but my birthday had passed, and Christmas was months away. I persuaded my cousin to let me make two characters. He agreed to Minnie Mouse and, under duress, Goofy. He wanted me to make Daisy as at ten years old, he wasn’t keen on anything perceived as girly.
I carefully mixed the plaster of paris and moulded the characters. It was a hot day and they dried quickly so I was able to paint them. Goofy had blue trousers and a yellow jersery and Minnie had a pink dress with flowers on it. I was a good painter for my age and the characters look great. It was at this point that the day went wrong for me. Ian suggested I put the characters in a submarine made from an old HTH bottle. Back then, HTH came in large white cylinder shaped bottles with screw on lids. He had cut a door in the bottle to serve as a hatch. He would contribute his Action Man to the adventure and wanted me to contribute my two characters. I didn’t want to but he talked me in to contributing Minnie.
The great journey along the lines of Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea by Jules Verne commenced. Unfortunately, the submarine flipped over to the door side, took on copious water, and sank. Ian rescued it from the pool and inside we found his Action Man covered in a soggy mess of melted plaster paris and paint. It was a great tragedy for me.
I gave the surviving Goofy character to Granny Joan, and she kept it on her dressing table until she passed away when I was eleven. I remember seeing it when my parents took me to my grandparents’ house to help Granddad Jack pack up her clothes and other personal items. I wanted to take it, but didn’t as it felt like stealing. In retrospect, I’s sure it was thrown out and I wish I had taken it.
Picture caption: Crossing the bridge at the beginning of the trail from Drakensberg Sun HotelPicture caption: Trail in the Drakensberg Mountains, South AfricaPicture caption: Gregory crossing the swollen river using a rope. I was already across ready to help the others. I am a mountain goat – haha!
Dora’s Poetics challenge: What I’d like us to do is to write a poem that conjures a view (whether from our travels or everyday life, whether from desire or experience) that is colored by the emotion of the moment. You can join in here: https://dversepoets.com/2025/06/10/poetics-a-view-of-ones-own/
The Certainty of Life
There is a quiet peace
in our deep certainty
of the changing seasons
In our unwavering conviction
that the frigid winds of winter
will always give way
to the bright blooms of spring
that the ferocious heat of summer
will invariably succumb
to the cooler temperatures
and rich colours of autumn
There is a deep restfulness
in our unwavering confidence
that the sun will always rise
sometimes early
and sometimes late
sometimes obscured by cloud
but it comes up every day
in celebration of life
Thursday Doors
These photographs are from Inyati Game Lodge in the Sabi Sands Game Reserve. I’ve show a few of the doors and also some sunrise and sunset pictures to compliment my poem above. You can join in Thursday Doors here: https://nofacilities.com/2025/06/12/colorful-pittsburgh/
Picture caption: Doors into the reception at Inyati Game LodgePicture caption: Doors between the two visitor lounges at the lodgePicture caption: Another entrance into the lodgePicture caption: Young leopard in a tree at sunsetPicture caption: Sunset over the water.Picture caption: giraffe feeding at sunrise
When I was eight, my sister, Hayley, was born. She suffered from cholic and was a terrible howler. Mom was exhausted and thin trying to care for this fretful baby who never slept. Granny Joan and Granddad Jack were living and working at a yacht club on the Vaal River, and they offered to have me to stay with them for the duration of the summer school holidays.
I was delighted. I loved staying with my father’s parents, and they liked having me as I was quiet and used to entertaining myself. The South African summer holiday runs for six weeks from the beginning of December, through Christmas, until approximately mid-January. The yacht club was great fun, with lots of family staying in chalets and enjoying the many activities including boating, swimming in the large pool, and eating endless ice creams and snacks from the small shop that Granny Joan ran with a helper. I made a few friends and joined in the swimming but, never one for crowds, I also liked alone time.
Prior to school closing, paper dolls had become popular. All the girls wanted these glamorous dolls made from thick cardboard. They came in a pack with stands and a vast wardrobe of clothing with tags to attach them to the dolls. I didn’t have one of these packs, and I didn’t ask for one, but somehow, Granny Joan knew I wanted paper dolls. Granny was an artist, and she kindly turned her drawing hand to sketching me a series of beautiful figures along the lines of Betty and Veronica from the Archie comics. She cut these figures out of firm cardboard and even made stands for them. She then drew several outfits for the dolls with tags, and I spent many happy hours colouring them in with felt tipped pens. I treasured these dolls and kept them for months before they eventually became too wobbly and bent to play with anymore. The creation and subsequent playing with these dolls are some of my favourite memories with Granny.
Picture caption: Cover of Run for the Roses featuring an axe, a fluffy hat and a bunch of red roses
What Amazon says
The Headless Horseman has mellowed over the centuries, somewhat. Who knew that he is a horse lover, and needs Lizzie’s help. An unaffiliated witch is torturing race horses in an effort to skew the parimutuel betting odds.
Can Lizzie and the hat find this renegade witch before one of these beautiful animals gets hurt? Can they do it before Detlef, The Horseman, takes things into his own hands and violates the terms of his magical parole.
It seems like everyone is standing in their way this time, including a team of YouTube ghost hunters and members of the coven itself.
Saddle up for this supernatural ride through the world of Lizzie and the hat.
My review
Run for the Roses is another dive into a world of supernatural events directed by mythical creatures who fly just below the perception of humanity. All of humanity, except for Lizzie, the possessor of ‘the Hat’, an unusual and ancient creature who choses to take the form of various hats that can be worn by the current member of the family it has adopted. The Hat has been in Lizzie’s family for decades and came to her following the death of her grandfather. Together, Lizzie and the Hat have been on seven previous adventures where they fight mythical creatures who have chosen to follow a selfish path of personal gain of some sort. Lizzie and the Hat are, in essence, the champions of ‘good’ mythical creatures who want to live in harmony with humanity. The duo, together with helpers and friends, prevent discord and disruption in the human world that could have negative implications for everyone.
This story steps up the role of the ‘Headless Horseman’. Detlef made an appearance in an earlier book and it was very enjoyable to see him making a greater appearance in this book. Detlef is a champion of horses and is angered by the actions of witches who have summoned a ‘maar’ to terrify and torture horses for the purpose of changing the outcome of horse races. Detlef needs Lizzie and the Hat to help him destroy the maar and end the reign of terror.
As always, this short and fast story is packed with dark humour, fascinating mythical creatures, and an exciting story line. This book introduces the Gravedigger who I really enjoyed. Lizzie’s interactions with her band and their various gigs create a fun and relatable background setting for the adventures.
If you are looking to escape the anxieties of life through some well written and highly entertaining escapism, you will love this book.
Thank you to Thomas Wikman for this lovely review of Burning Butterflies. Thomas has a wonderful appreciation of nature and wildlife which shines through in his review.
If you don’t know Thomas, his has a lovely blog where he writes about Leonberger and other dogs as well as book reviews and other interesting dog and book related articles. Do take a look around while you are there.
roberta-writes.com 