F. R. O. G. Plane

FROG stands for ‘flies right of the ground’ this plane was just on the TV. The body was aluminium and the wings and tail were made of paper.

This was made in the 1930’s? You put the body of the plane in the box with the propellar attached. There is a handle on the front of the box and a mechanism that holds the propellar. You turn the handle and it winds up a rubber band. Then you peg the wings and tail on and let it loose to fly up off the ground.

Our forebears may not have had the Internet but they knew how to have fun!

Waiting for rain

Tonights sunset. We walked up our steep hill then took a slightly longer route home. At the bottom of the road back to home I saw this sunset and cloudy sky lightening the sky that had been dark and moody all evening.

I’m looking for faces in the clouds but all I can see a profile of a mouse with large ears, it has its front paws lifted up and large wings on its back. I used to think I had no imagination…

Butterfly

Through the dark night a butterfly flits, grey and green, not a moth. Looking for night-time flowers, like night scented stock.

The ghostly wings drop tiny scales, dusting the flowers with small droplets of white and grey.

Wings like snowflakes, flying through the cold dark, settling in a crevice at dawn. Sleeping till sunset arrives again….

Dragon fly

The odd things people send to each other on WhatsApp. I was trying to draw a dragonfly and someone told me she had got one that she had found in her she’d last year. She sent me this picture. I think it’s been preserved in plastic? I was going to delete the photo, but I was quite fascinated by the wings and the reflections on it. Hence this random post…..

Staring at me…

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Lined up, their beady eyes staring at me..

Two owls, mock leather and fake jewels. They sit on the sofa and look back at me. Is there a glint if evil in their eyes. If I fall asleep, will there be a great flapping of wings? Will they peck my face?

They are mocking me, watching me, sitting ready to pounce once I have closed my eyes. I just know it. Nightmares fastening their claws into my arms. Beaks ready to stab at my ears, eyes and mouth.

I remember being paralysed by the fear of them. Black and gold feathers brushing my hands. Their talons raking my veins, tangling in my hair.

How can I escape their gaze. Looking back at me. My reflection in their eyes? I want safety. Instead I may be trapped inside them, in their black lined guts. Lost forever in their gaze.

If cats could fly?

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If cats had wings would they chase birds in the sky? Would pigeons be safe? Would they swoop down like owls and catch voles from on high?

Horses have Pegasus, cats could be mythological, why not. They were worshipped as gods in Egypt, imagine them flying up to tree tops. Mioawing a Dawn chorus.

With genetic modification they could grow huge wings to allow them to hover like drones, waiting to see when their owners come home, spiralling down to perch on feeding stations.

Their coats could be patterned with spirals and chequer boards in blues and purples.

Why not?