Squally shower

Wow, it’s just rained heavily. A real squall with gusting winds. The gutters were overwhelmed and water poured down the window. Now the sun’s back out and the dark grey clouds have blown away. I love the sound of raindrops clattering against the glass and the gusts of wind whistling through the gaps in the window frame. It’s never been properly airtight, but I don’t mind and in the dawn light I can hear the blackbird singing on the top of next doors chimney. Music of nature playing around my garden.

It reminds me of the myth or saying about the month of March and March winds… If it is a gentle start to the month it comes in like a lamb and out like a lion, while if it’s windy at the start of the month the opposite, in like a lion out like a lamb tends to be the case.

Medusa

Medusa sat and waited, it had been years since a human had visited her caves and she was simmering with anger. People had been told to keep away. They knew she was dangerous, no one that came into her lair ever escaped. She was surrounded by cowering statues that had looked at her face surrounded by writhing snakes and had turned to stone. She chuckled to herself as she heard echoing footsteps in the antechamber. Her next victim, probably a man, was on his way.

A glimmer of light struck the rocky walls. The man was carrying a flaming torch. All the better for her, the light would shine in her eyes and make her more visible. The slithering snakes were writhing in anticipation. A broad grin spread across her face. ‘Soon’ she whispered to herself.

A shield was the first thing she noticed as the man edged around the corner. He held it high to hide his face and literally shield his eyes. Then she saw her own reflection. Before she could breathe, whimper or scream the spell caught her. Ancient flesh transformed into stone. Persius was victorious, Medusa was lost, into infinity.

Myth

Sunday’s #bandofsketchers prompt was Myth. Oh what to do? I am in love with gryphons, unicorns, winged horses and many other things, but as my most recent study was about dragons, I chose to draw one. I started out with three pens held together to try and create a triple image, but the middle pen had dried out. So I finished off with two. If you look carefully you can see the outline of two other eyes below the ones I have outlined. Then I coloured it in with metallic felt pens. I might do more to it but this is good enough as a sketch.

Staring

The dragon stared, it looked out at me, the forest had hidden it until I got close. I didn’t know what to think? Where was it from? How had it got there? Was it real, mythical, mystical or magical.

I stood quietly. Waiting to see what happened. I didn’t have to wait long.

It spoke!

Who are you human? Why are you here? Its questions were the same as mine. Then it said, how can you see me? I am invisible!

Of course I replied that it was not. That I could see it perfectly. Then it said I must be young, or believe in stories. Grown ups rarely see dragons!

That’s how we became friends. A chance meeting. We had many adventures. I might tell them one day.

Scales?

Covered in armour

Impenetrable scales

Against all drama

Arrows and staves

Flying above

Crawling below

Graceful as a dove

With a loud bellow!

Only a myth

An imaginary creature

Family kin and kith

In which lizards feature

Wings full of woe

Mouth full of fire

Where he does go

Things will be dire!

What is this thing

We wish will be gone?

Of it we will sing!

The inimitable Dragon!

Unicorn

When did I first find out about Unicorns? In a book, probably. Something about myths and legends. Always a white horse with a horn from its forehead. The closest thing in reality in nature are Narwhals, a type of cetacean with a long modified tooth sticking out forward from its head.

Unicorns are often depicted in medieval paintings, tapestries and manuscripts. Apparently the only way you could catch them was to have them lay their head in the lap of a virgin? They were a lovely idea. Perhaps the idea was influenced by antelope? It’s something I might investigate.

Roses round the door.

When I bought the house I noticed a small rose bush. I thought nothing more of it. Then I moved in and everything was lovely. At least at first.

As time passed the garden grew, I tried to look after it, but it just kept growing. The roses were beautiful, white, perfumed. But it kept growing, entwined in the fence, creeping over the path.

But inside the house I felt safe. It was warm and comfortable, the colours were muted, pastels, old soft furnishings, blankets, a happy place.

Then one morning, I tried opening the double front door, the handle would not move, something was wrapped around it? I looked out of the window, sideways, I saw it. The rose had grown round the door handle, as I watched leaves sprouted and perfect white flowers appeared. The house was happy, the rose was happy. But me? Not so much.

How to tell the earth is a sphere…

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So how can you tell the Earth is a sphere? The ancient Greeks worked it out ( I don’t remember the name of the person who did).

The experiment was to put a stick in the sand at or near the equator, so it would have a tiny shadow directly underneath the it at mid day as the Sun was directly overhead.

If you place a stick upright, at 90° to the Eaths surface either North or South of the equator, the stick casts a shadow at mid day. (Look at the hands of a clock the hands move round in the same way). Say the equator is 3pm and the Sun is overhead, you would get no shadow, then as you go further away from the stick at the equator you get increasing angles (see diagram). Eventually at the poles the shadows would be at their longest.

So how can you tell its a sphere? The angles add up. You can calculate the curvature of the planet from these simple experiments. The ancient Greeks got very close to calculating the circumference of the Earth. Their calculations were only a small percentage out on their measurement.

 

Red moon, blood moon…

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Before dawn someone in will die. The wolves are howling, it is not safe to go out…

So said the old man as he sat in the shack in the woods. He was with his best friend, a man twenty years younger, who had decided to visit for the weekend. I have my gun loaded, said the old man, I will protect us.

But no one has been killed by wolves in a hundred years, said his companion. Why do you think it will happen? Because of the blood moon came the stern answer.

As they settled down for the night clouds drifted over the moon, soon the storm hit. Snow fell deep, piling onto the shacks roof. One foot, two, four, finally eight. The snow was suffocating them, the fire had been allowed to burn low and suddenly snow fell down the chimney. The roof started to collapse, snow sifted in like sugar, through the cracks…..

The younger man woke with snow covering his face, cold, wet and smothering. It was pitch black, then the feeble rays of the blood moon penetrated the dark. With its help he struggled free. He had to locate his friend, the man was breathing, but unconscious. He dug him out with his hands and the help of the rifle.

Outside his truck was covered, it would take him ages to dig it out. Until then there was no chance of shelter. The shack was a jumbled mess.

All he could do was keep digging, hoping to get to a door, though whether his key would open the lock he doubted. It might be frozen shut.

A howl drifted through the night. The sound startled the digger who fought harder to shift the snow. The howl was closer, creeping towards them. He checked his friend, still breathing, but deathly pale and cold. If the wolves didn’t get them the freezing wind and snow would.

But slowly he was tiring, he had barely moved a few feet of snow. The sweat he was generating was freezing on his body. He started to shiver and his teeth chattered.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the glowing eyes. First two, then four, then more. He closed his eyes, waited for the bite….. It didn’t come. Instead he felt the warmth of one of the wolves leaning against him, then another on the other side. Wolves are large creatures and the weight of them pulled him down to the ground. The warmth after the cold was making him drowsy.

In the morning the search party found both of them, fast asleep. There were indentations in the snow showing where the wolves had lain down. A rough count showed that twenty or so wolves had slept around the two men, helping warm them.

Later the old man admitted he didn’t believe it, but it must be true. The gun would never be used again…

( don’t try this at home folks, it’s just a story,).

The two faces of Eve.

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Face left, face forward. Underneath her name and a long number. Her mug shot. She didn’t understand why. What was happening? She was being blamed for everything.

The snake in the tree had started it. It spoke! Talked about it being the tree of knowledge. Well she had always wanted to learn, to go to school, to get to university. What was wrong with knowledge? But they had said only men can do that. Women aren’t allowed, they might get ideas above their station.

She had tried an apple the snake had offered her. It looked tasty. Not evil? No, more like a braeburn. Having eaten, she told her friend Adam about it. He said if she could taste it then he would too. Later they tried other fruit off other trees. Now she’d been arrested for stealing fruit!

The sins of the world, they called it. All over one measly apple. Would you Adam and Eve it?