tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41215209419645959252024-02-18T19:50:48.071-08:00Lavendilly Story GardenLavendilly Garden - Growing Golden ChildhoodsLavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.comBlogger33125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-1662783808296350422010-02-10T22:35:00.001-08:002010-02-10T22:35:26.637-08:00THE MOUSE AND THE WINTER GLOVE<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mouse and The Winter Glove</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Written by Kim Preston<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Winter Story, Playgroup Story</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once upon a time, there lived a little brown mouse,</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the rain fell down and washed away his house.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He ran into the bush and found a snug wee glove;</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then down flew an owl from the gum-tree above”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Please, is there room for me in your house?”<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Yes, do come in”,</i> said the little brwn mouse.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They all squeezed together, it was getting rather tight</div><div class="MsoNormal">When along came a fox and gave them all a fright:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Don’t worry, little animals, I’ll do you no harm,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I only need some shelter to keep me dry and warm.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So they all squashed up, as close as close can be,</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then – oh – I’m sorry to say ... there came a little flea!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“No room! No room! No room!”</i> the animals all cried,</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the flea took no notice and jumped right inside.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Alas, the little glove-house could bear the strain no more;</div><div class="MsoNormal">It burst and split right open, as its seams ripped and tore.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The animals cried out – but soon they cheered <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hooray!”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">For the golden sun came shining – and they all went off to play.</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-79894019377524217602010-02-10T22:11:00.001-08:002010-02-10T22:11:45.281-08:00A GIFT OF LIGHT<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">A Gift of Light</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Written by Anne Anderson<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Winter Story</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Long, long ago when the earth was still quite young, the human beings who roamed the land were very happy. The sun shone bright and hot each day. At night the warm winds encircled their near-naked bodies, while the golden flames of the fire leapt and danced to keep away any fierce beasts.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Among one tribe lived a wise man and woman. Their youngest son was named Minya, so called as he was much smaller than his brothers. Minya knew many bush sounds and his sharp eyes saw everything that moved, near and far, for he was a gatherer. But still his brothers would not let him hunt with them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One night, as everyone sat around the crackling fire, out of the darkness swooped old crow. He screeched, “We need a new leader. Give your youngest son to us. He can see like an eagle. Do as we say, or darkness shall surround you forever more! But as crow moved towards Minya, the fire spirits leapt up singing:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">“The sun shall journey far away,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">Bringing crisp and cold to all who stay,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">But when the darkest day is done,</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">The light will return for everyone!”</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Crow snatched at the fire sticks and grasping them in his pointed beak, flew away into the night.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Early the next morning the brothers padded silently across the valley floor. Minya kept up at first, for he too wanted to find old crow and the fire spirits. Now Minya was alone, but suddenly he could hear all the bush sounds he knew so well. ‘ZZ-ZZ’, came to his ears. Stealthily he moved towards the soft, humming sound. There, within reach of his slender arms, was a beehive. Now everyone could have a sweet delight after their meal. But although the brothers hunted all day, nothing could they find, but an old emu’s egg and that they left behind.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As the first sunbeams danced into the cool valley, the following day, the brothers set out again, determined to hunt the crow. Minya was soon left behind, seeking darkened places where secrets could sleep. His keen eyes caught a flash of red and then another. However, all he found were succulent berries, juicy to eat. He gathered enough berries for a feast for everyone, but although the brothers hunted all day, nothing could they find, but an old crocodile and he they left behind.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The days became shorter, the chilly air nipped at fingers and toes. Food was not easily found. Many animals were hiding in darkened burrows. Still old crow and the fire spirits had not been found.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Early one morning, when the valley was clothed in mist, Minya crept away. Swiftly and surely his feet moved over boulders, making his way up the ragged mountainside to the mighty eagle’s lair. He heard the cawing of the old crow and became as still as the very rocks he was near.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Reaching the eagles nest Minya cried: “Eagle so great and true, can you tell me where to find the fire spirits to save our kind?” The wise eagle replied, “Crow like the darkness, here there is light. Seek the wombat brave and bold; he goes into the earth’s depths. He may know.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Minya climbed upon the eagle’s back and together the soared high above the winding valley. Below, Minya could see his brothers, spears in hand, searching far and wide. The eagle descended to a small cave near the valley floor. Crawling along in the darkness, Minya could hear the echoing snores of the wombat. Softly Minya spoke to the wombat. “Wombat, so brave and bold, can you tell me where to find the spirits to save our kind?” Wombat stretched and mumbled, “Deep in the earth below, I hear sounds like no other. Within this darkness live earthly beings, they may know. Come let us go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Minya grasped wombat’s soft brown fur and let wombat guide him to the depths of the earth below. In the great cavern worked many earthly beings, cracking rocks and stones and making paths for the roots descending from above. Here, in the dark, light sparkled and shone like the stars in the heavens. Minya stepped forward and asked, “Dear sir, so old and wise, can you tell me where to find the fires spirits to save our kind?” The ancient being replied, “Take out light from the earth within. Guard it well and it will shine into your world, bringing your golden sun back to you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Minya cradled the glimmering spark in its hard stony bed. Night had descended over the land, as he made his way back to the camp. The spark began to glow, brighter and brighter. As Minya bent down to the pile of dry sticks in the middl of the camp, the fire spirits leapt up and danced once more. The elders stirred in their sleep knowing that the darkest day had passed and the light would now return.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u>Story notes:</u><o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">‘Minya’ is an Aboriginal word meaning ‘small’</i></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-56622405842744134462010-02-10T21:48:00.001-08:002010-02-10T21:48:48.781-08:00WATTLE AND BANKSIAS LIGHT UP THE WINTER GARDEN<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Wattle and Banksias Light up the Winter Garden</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Written by Suzette Saint-Claire</i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was once a beautiful garden, full of trees, flowers, sand, and a bush castle and many other special places. In the day time young children came to play games in the yard. They had many adventures climbing, hiding, digging great holes and finding all sorts of treasures.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Many other creatures lived in this beautiful garden too. There were the tiny creatures, the caterpillars, grasshoppers and snails, and some larger creatures too: the possums, birds and of course the fairies and elves who lived and worked and played in the garden.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Often when the children were in the garden all the other creatures would hide away. Some children who knew how to quietly creep through the garden could sometimes catch a glimpse of a grasshopper or a snail or even a possum or bird, and sometimes on very special days if they looked very closely they could see the fairies and elves.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But most of all these creatures loved to come out and play at the end of the day when the children had left to go home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now it happened that in the winter days Father Sun did not stay in the sky for very long at all and soon after all the children had left to go home the creatures did not have very long to run and play about before it was night time. So they huddled in their nests and burrows and homes in the trunks of the trees, missing their friends.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The fairies in the garden could see how sad the creatures were. One night when all the creatures were sleeping the fairies came out to dance and play in the soft light of the morning. They knew how sad the little creatures were without the bright light of the sun to light their garden. So the planned a special surprise. With their magic wands they lit all the wattle trees up with golden lights that the sunbeam dancers had given them, and they lit golden banksia lanterns to shine in the winter garden.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The next day when all the children came to play in the garden their faces beamed with joy to see the golden lights shining on the wattle and banksia tree. Some children took a branch of wattle home to show their mummies and daddies the gifts left behind from the fairies.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Later that day when all the children had gone home the garden creatures came out to play and now and then they could stay in the garden longer than before, for as the light of the sun dimmed in the afternoon winter sky, the lights of the wattle and banksia trees shone the way for all the creatures to see and play.</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-59258367319170519042010-02-10T21:32:00.000-08:002010-02-10T21:32:06.304-08:00The Longest Night<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">The Longest Night</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">(renamed by Jennifer McCormack, originally found as "A Winter Story")</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Author Unknown</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal">The days had become shorter and shorter and colder and colder. The nights very long. At last the boy heard someone say “Tonight is the longest night of the year.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“This must be quite special”, said the little boy, “I will go and find out why.” It was nearly dark. He put on his worn scarf, lit his little lantern and went outside. He sang:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">The sunlight fast is dwindling</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">My little lamp need kindling</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">It’s beam shines far in darkest night</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Dear lantern guard me with your light</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(tune:<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">DDCBABG<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">DDCBABG<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">DDGGAABCD<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">EDEDBGDDB)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Near a wattle tree he heard a scuffle. Something ran past him up into the tree. He saw two bright eyes shining. “Hello little ringtail possum,” he said. “Can you tell me what is so special about tonight?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I don’t know,” said the possum, “I’m just glad that the wattle trees are covered in golden flowers full of nectar,” and he scrambled further up the tree.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The little boy went on, singing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(repeat song)</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then he heard “Boobook! Bookbook!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Who’s that?” said the boy. He looked into the tree. Two round eyes were looking at him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Boobook! Bookbook! What are you doing?” asked the owl.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I have come out to find why this night is so special,” said the boy. “Can you help me?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Bookbook,” said the owl, “I cannot tell you, but if you are willing to search and search and keep your eyes wide open you may find out. Bookbook! Bookbook!” He flew away on silent wings.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">As the boy walked on he sang <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(repeat song)</i>.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;">Then the boy stopped. Something was knocking. He listened. Indeed, some knocking was coming from behind some rocks. He listened again and he heard:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Crack, crack, the rocks we hack</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Quake, quake, the mountains shake.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Bang, bang, our hammers clang.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">In caverns old we seek the gold</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Goodness!” said the boy:</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">“Who is that kncking?</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">It must be the gnomes</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Hacking and cracking the rocks and the stones</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Finding the jewels</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Shining them bright</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Like the moon and the stars</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">And the golden sunlight.”</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was a movement in a crack in the rock and a little glimmer of light. He went over. “Hello!” he said, “Is anyone there?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A long, thin creature came out of the crack.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“What are you doing out here all alone on this longest night?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am trying to find out about this special night,” said the boy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I will show you how special it is for us,” said the long thin creature and he led the boy inside the rock.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The boy gasped when he saw the cave shining inside the rock. His lantern lit up the jewels in the cave and the shone as bright as day and lit up the longest night.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-top: 12.0pt;"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-71186142978044349942010-02-10T21:21:00.000-08:002010-02-10T21:21:40.072-08:00BRAVE ROSE-PINK<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brave Rose Pink</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Author Unknown<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Winter Story<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Autumn was passing, and Jack Frost was frightening all the flowers away. Even the seeds could not bear to stay above the ground, but crept underneath out of the cold. The gnomes gathered them and carried them away to Mother Earth’s warm seed beds. They tucked them in to wait for spring.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But a sweet-pea seed refused to come down. “No,” she said, “I do not wish to lie in bed all the winter. I wish to stay here and grow. I am already sprouting, and I intend to stay.” She would not be moved.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The gnomes went to Mother Earth. “There is a sweet-pea above the ground, Rose-Pink by name, who refuses to come below,” they said. “What shall we do with her?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Tell her that Jack Frost will nip her with his cruel fingers if she stays there,” said Mother Earth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The gnomes took the message to Rose-Pink.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am strong and hardy, and will laugh at Jack Frost,” said Rose-Pink.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Tell her the Storm King will beat her down with his great winds, and break her back,” said Mother Earth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">They went again to Rose-Pink.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I will grow tendrils with which to hold tightly to the fence, so that the great winds cannot tear me down.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Tell her that the Snow Queen will bury her in her cold white snowflakes,” said Mother Earth.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I will not die, but will push my head through the cold white snowflakes,” she said to the gnomes.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Then leave her alone,” said Mother Earth, “She is brave, and perhaps her courage will carry her safely through the winter. If it does her reward will come in the spring.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So Rose-Pink was left alone, and went on growing quietly by the fence, taking advantage of every little bit of sunshine that came her way.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Jack Frost nipped her with his cruel fingers but she only laughed at him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Storm King tried to beat her down with his great winds, but she clung to the fence with her little tendrils.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Snow Queen came. She buried Rose-Pink in her cold white snow-flakes, but she pushed her head through and lived on.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At last the winter passed, and the soft spring air blew over the garden. The gnomes woke the seeds from their winter sleep.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Let’s see what has happened to Rose-Pink,” they said.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am alive and well, very happy,” sang Rose-Pink from half-way up the fence.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She grew fast now and soon reached the top of the fence. Then came her reward, for while the other sweet-peas were only half-grown, her little buds came and her flowers opened out. Such glorious flowers they were, flushed like the sun-rise sky. Rose-Pink sang for joy, and breathed out scented happiness on every breeze.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You have come long before your sisters,” said the Bees, “Nothing in the entire garden is as sweet and beautiful as you.”</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-41539092155023008632010-02-10T17:48:00.000-08:002010-02-10T17:48:19.553-08:00<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: none;">Using Nature’s Toys as Puppets</span></span></u><u><o:p></o:p></u></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">By Sandra Busch</div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">My story rhythm goes over a three week period. First week I tell the story, second week I use the children’s toys as puppets to tell the story; after the first day an older child will help me. The third week we dramatise the story. By this time the children have a deep connection to the story and will often speak the words themselves at the appropriate time.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Over the years I have used nature’s toys as puppets. The curly shells of different sizes make good Billy Goats and a gnarly piece of wood, the troll under the bridge. Flowers make beautiful butterflies.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">This Autumn our Kindergarten garden had many different varieties of Autumn leaves and they were beautiful. I felt as if they were asking me to find a way of bringing them to the children. So on the second week of Briar Rose story, I decided to try using the leaves as puppets. Two big beautiful leaves for the King and Queen, a smaller one for the princess. The cook and kitchen boy were plainer leaves and the 13<sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">th</span></sup> wise woman was a dark green leaf. It worked very well and brought a wonder to the story. I realise it was my gesture that was important and the leaves became ensouled with the character. I felt it was also along the lines of the knot doll, where Rudolf Steiner recommends that simplicity leaves the child free to add what they need to add, thus encouraging the developing imagination.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">After that the children played with the leaves in many varied ways. A few days later a little boy ran up to me with three lovely leaves and said “Here’s some fairies for you”.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So I wanted to share the idea of using Nature’s toys as puppets at the Vital Years Conference. The <a href="http://lavendillystorygarden.blogspot.com/2010/02/littel-wombat-puppet-story.html">Little Wombat</a> story is a nature story which I wrote a few years ago. It has been printed in Star Weavings before and I did tell it at an earlier Conference, but somehow it didn’t feel quite complete. I’ve refined the story in places and by using the Banksia pods, which work very well as puppets, it now feels more complete. I also felt it was a good winter stoy, the going down into the earth. In winter the life forces are drawn down into the earth.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">So I hope these thoughts might be helpful for you. Enjoy your story telling.<o:p></o:p></div></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36pt;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Sandra Busch</div></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-43752439471666701812010-02-10T17:33:00.000-08:002010-02-10T17:43:40.591-08:00SIMPLE SHORT STORIES FOR THE "MOMENT"<h1 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Storytelling for Young Children: Simple Short Stories for the ‘Moment’</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></h1><h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Written by Jennifer McCormack, </span></span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">ã</span></span></span></span></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">2007. </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></i></h2><h2 align="center" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Revised October 2009.</span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></i></h2><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In this series of articles I wish to present to you some practical strategies to enhance storytelling experiences with your children at home. We will discuss some techniques, and also the potential of stories to heal. Before I introduce you to the strategies, I wish to give some background information about why </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">telling</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> stories (which is different, but not opposed, to </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">reading</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> stories) is so essential for the developing mind. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Why Oral Storytelling?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When you hear a story being told your mind creates its own pictures. These mind pictures are based on your own life experiences and the concepts you have developed up until this point in your life experiences. As you listen, you see things with your own colours, and you can add your own sounds and background noises in your mind. Someone else might tell the story, but it is </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">your</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> story in your head. When you ask children to retell stories the essential parts they give you will generally be correct, but the way they see things happen, and the way they understand things in the story differ from child to child. They have made that story live for themselves.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Making a story live in this way is something that can’t quite be achieved by reading a book with a child. Now at this point I want to say that book reading IS very important. It is an essential part of literacy learning. When you snuggle up with your child and </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">enjoy</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> a book experience together, you are doing a great deal of groundwork for their literacy development. Mem Fox insists that reading to your child for at least 10 minutes a day is the best way to kick start not only good literacy skills, but also a love of books and stories. I agree with her, however reading from books should not be the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">only</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> experience of stories that children have. Picture books do not develop the </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">‘inner mind pictures’</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">, and this is an essential skill for a creative thinker and successful learner.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">What is the “Inner Picture”?</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Young children live in the moment. While they do have an amazing capacity to remember very interesting experiences after seeing or hearing it only once, their </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">understanding</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> of this learning comes from living and practising and playing out a concept again and again and again. When you watch young children play, the themes of their games will not vary much until they reach about 6 years of age. Until then, children still use toys to physically represent the pictures they have in their minds. At around age five/six, children begin to draw upon their long-term memories in play and drawings. It is now that children start bringing to life those ‘inner pictures’ they have stored from listening, watching, imitating and </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">doing</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">. Children at this age are less reliant upon using props for their play, because much of the play is based upon “lets pretend”, or “just say”. They are now able to hold long play sessions with very little toys at all, and will often re-enact moments from their favourite stories in their games. Stories provide fuel for play. Children who have not yet developed the capacity to hold inner pictures are not ready to join in this kind of play yet. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 36.0pt; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Children want an image, and want to think of themselves as an image, too. It is just in these things that we see how the teacher will meet the children with a truly “living” quality of soul. And this living quality works upon the children in an imponderable way – imponderable in the best sense.” Dr Rudolf Steiner, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The Kingdom of Childhood.</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Another word for the inner picture is Imagination. Children who are able to hold an inner picture can become creative thinkers. They are able to grasp a concept, shape it in their minds, relate it to their life experiences, and then use it in creative ways. What a truly remarkable ability – and one so necessary for overcoming abstract concepts such as reading and mathematics. While reading aloud to children will help familiarise them with text, their inner picture will help shape it in meaningful and relevant ways in their understanding. </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Children who experience stories and play through mediums that often leave very little detail to the imagination (such as an </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">excess</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> of electronic entertainment/commercial toys/merchandise) may struggle with developing their inner pictures and creative thought life. It becomes a part of the brain that is not well used. In terms of brain development: if a part of the brain is not exercised frequently it gets taken over by other areas of brain function that require more space to store information! These children will not have had the need to exercise their thoughts and imagination, and they are out of practice. It becomes too hard. These children may find it initially difficult to sit through an oral story, especially when it is the same story told day after day, however very soon (in my experience) they become captivated. It is as if the story is a light that is trying to awaken a very sluggish and sleepy imagination. This can be hard work! And it is best achieved by setting aside time in each day when the television is turned off, putting away the toys that think for themselves (including ipods, electronic games and mobile phones for older children), lighting a candle and beginning with “Once upon a time…”</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">How do we tell stories without books?</span></i></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Ah! What a daunting prospect! Putting the book away and telling a story from memory! Well, I will get into the nitty gritty of storytelling in later articles. We will explore the use of props, dynamics, tone, and ways to set the mood of a story. We will talk about what sort of stories are suitable for different age groups. But let us start simple. Let us start with the story of our day.</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Stories are unfolding around us all the time, and young children love nothing better than to hear stories they can relate to in their daily life, especially if there is a child who has the same name as them in the story! Day-to day activities are not considered boring to young children (unless referred to, in a resigned tone, as “work”). To little children, the story of their day, or even a moment in their day is quite satisfying. These stories do not have to take long, they do not require any props, and they do not require any preparation. They are the simplest, and easiest stories to make up on the spot! You can be sweeping the floor and telling a story. You can be in the car. All you need is a short beginning and ending that remain the same for </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">every</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> story. You make this up, it doesn’t have to be tricky or fantastic, in fact the simpler the better. A word of warning: once you get going your child will never let you change this! What ever you do in the middle is up to you. </span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I have a favourite story that I tell to all age groups, from babies to adults: the story of Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle. I learned this story when I was at university and it has stood by me for all these years since! Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle have helped me out of many an awkward moment with big groups of children, they have helped make sad children giggle, and they have helped over-excited children settle down. All you need are your hands, and a little inspiration. The basic story goes like this:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Once upon a time there were two friends. Their names were Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mr Wiggle lived on this hill over here, POP! (present right fist with thumb tucked in) and Mr Waggle lived on this hill over here, POP! (present left fist with thumb tucked in)..</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One day Mr Wiggle decided to visit Mr Waggle. He opened his door, POP! (open fingers in right fist), came outside, POP! (pop you right thumb) and closed the door, POP! (close right fist with thumb poking out). Then he went:</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Down the hill and up the hill, down the hill and up the hill, down the hill and up the hill, down the hill and up the hill… until he came to Mr Waggle’s house (Move right fist up and down across your body until it reaches the left fist)</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He knocked on Mr Waggle’s door. Knock! Knock! Knock! “Hello! Mr Waggle! Are you home? Its Mr Wiggle!”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mr Waggle opened his door (pop!), came outside (pop!) and closed his door (pop!). (same actions as per right fist)</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Oh! Hello Mr Wiggle! Do come in, you must be tired after your walk. Lets have a cup of tea.”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So Mr Waggle opened his door, POP! , they went inside, POP! (enclose both thumbs within left palm) and closed the door, POP! (close left fist).</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">*Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle shared a pot of tea and ate some scones together.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When they were finished it was time for Mr Wiggle to go home. Mr Waggle opened his door, POP!, they came outside, POP! and he closed his door, POP!. </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Goodbye Mr Wiggle, thankyou for visiting me! Do come again soon!”</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“Good bye Mr Waggle,, thankyou for the cup of tea and scones.”.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mr Wiggle went down the hill and up the hill, down the hill and up the hill, down the hill and up the hill, down the hill and up the hill…until he came to his home (Left fist stays where it is, right fist moves in an up and down motion across body back the right side)</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">They opened their doors, POP!, waved goodbye to each other (wiggle thumbs), went inside, POP! (fold thumbs into palms) and closed their doors (enclose thumbs in fist).</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></span></div></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And the sun went down (right arm moves down across body), and the moon came up (left arm moves up across body), and that was the end of another day!</span></span></div></div></span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I love this story because in it so much happens. First of all there is the beginning and the ending: they are </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">always </span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">the same. As are the ‘pops’. Believe me when I tell you that the children will notice if you forget a pop, or if you pop in the wrong place! These are the fun elements that attract children to the story. You say whatever you like in between, so long as the beginning, the end and the pops are always there. When I have told this story, depending upon the age of the audience and the situation, Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle have gone swimming, fishing, boating (lost at sea and washed up on a deserted island), jungle exploring, skateboarding, driving, bicycle riding (down those hills!), cooking and picnicking. They have hung out the washing, washed dishes, tidied their rooms (because they kept losing things in them) and have ended up in hospital with broken bones many times from their adventures!</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">With this story you can:</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Catch the attention of any child of any age,</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Explore ranges of voice, using sound effects, high and low pitch, exaggerated tones. Be free!</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Throw in little songs they might know (‘row, row, row your boat’ came in when they were on the sea)</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Run freely with your imagination, your child’s suggestions, or even just tell the story of your child’s day,</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Use Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle to work through worries or fears in a humorous way,</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="margin-left: 18.0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list 18.0pt; text-align: justify; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">-</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Give your child a settling strategy: if they are old enough, ask them to tell you a Mr Wiggle and Mr Waggle story while you are driving the car, making dinner, waiting for playgroup to begin…</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoBodyText" style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And the best thing about it is at the end of the day, it all comes good again. They always make it home for dinner and bed, the sun always goes down and the moon always comes up again. The world is good. After all, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">that</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> is the message we want to pass on to our children. </span></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-12681683193716282252010-02-10T14:13:00.000-08:002010-02-10T17:12:26.022-08:00THE LITTLEST ANGEL<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Littlest Angel<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Adapted by Jennifer McCormack<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Birthday Stories<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once there was a little angel who lived in the heavens way up high above the rooftops, above the treetops, above the clouds and the stars, the moon and the sun. The little angel was happy in her heavenly home, but each day she would gaze down to earth and watch everything that happened. She looked at all the children playing together and wished and wished that she could join them.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“When will it be my turn to go and play on the earth?” she asked the Biggest Angel one day. The Biggest Angel took her hand and smiled. “One day” he said, “one day it will be your turn. First you will need to find your mother and father, and when you have done that I will show you the way down.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So each day the little angel leaned over the edge of heaven and searched for her mother and her father. She wondered how she would know them! Every day she looked and looked until one day she gazed at a woman with (* describe parents) shining blond hair and a father who was very tall. They were (* describe their activities) working together in the garden of their house. When she looked at them it seemed as if the very stars sung inside her heart. They must be her mother and father!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Quickly she ran to tell the Biggest Angel. “Come quick!” she called, “I have found them! I am sure of it! Come and see!” She could still hear the song of the stars in her heart, and the Biggest Angel could hear it too. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I will be sad to see you go, Little One,” said the Biggest Angel, “but it is your turn now. Let me take care of your wings, as you will not need them with your family. I will look after them until you come back.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Biggest Angel took the wings from the little angel and led her to the Rainbow Bridge. This was a glorious arc that shone in dazzling colours all the way to the earth from the heavens. The little angel gave the Biggest Angel a final hug and stepped on to the bridge. Down, down, she slid, all the way through red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet, until the bridge led into a dark, dark tunnel. It was a little frightening in there but the little angel knew that her mother and father would be waiting for her at the other end. She leaned forward and landed in the arms of her mother. Her father and mother hugged her with love and promised to care for her always.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><o:p> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; text-decoration: underline;">Notes about the story:</span></o:p></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Add details of the child’s personal situation: eg siblings, pets</span></div><div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18.0pt;"><span style="font-family: Symbol;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">·</span><span style="font: normal normal normal 7pt/normal 'Times New Roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Find out details of birth that could be added – eg born outside, in a pool...</span></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-69454274689848679972010-02-10T13:09:00.001-08:002010-02-10T19:59:09.782-08:00THE MITTEN<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Mitten</i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">From <u>Repetitive Stories: A collection for young and old</u>, </i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hella Coenen, 1997<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Winter Story<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once upon a time in the middle of winter and old man walked through a forest and his dog followed him. When those two were walking along, one of his mittens fell in the snow.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nibbler the mouse came along, twirling his whiskers and looking at the world. He saw the mitten and thought it was as good as a palace. He stood in front of it and called out, “who lives in this mitten?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">No one answered for there was no one inside. “I will live there myself,” said Nibbler the mouse, and in he went and set up home.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The Croaker the frog came along, a jump, three strides, a jump again. “Who lives in this mitten?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, and who are you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am Croaker the frog, can I come in?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes do, and make yourself at home.” So the frog went and the two of them began to live together.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then a hare came running by. “Who lives in this mitten?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, I do, Croaker the frog, and who are you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am Bandy Legs the hare, and hill jumper. Can I come in?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes, do and make yourself at home.” So the hare put his ears down and went in and the three of them began to live together.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then fox came running by. “Who lives in this mitten?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, I do, Croaker the Frog, I do, Bandy Legs the hare, the hill jumper, and who are you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am Reynard, the fox the fine talker. Can I come in?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes do, and make yourself at home.” So the fox went in and the four of them began to live together.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then a wolf came prowling by. He saw the mitten. “Who lives in this mitten?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, I do, Croaker the Frog, I do, Bandy Legs the hare, the hill jumper, I do, Reynard the fox the fine talker, and who are you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am Prowler the wolf who lurks behind the bush. Can I come in?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes do come in then.” And the wolf went in and the five of them began to live together. Then from the middle of the forest came a wild boar walking by, “Who lives in this mitten?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, I do, Croaker the Frog, I do, Bandy Legs the hare, the hill jumper, I do, Reynard the fox the fine talker, I do, Prowler the wolf who lurks behind the bush, and who are you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am Flat Nose the boar. Can I come in?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You are too big. You probably won’t fit in.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well, I will try,” And the Boar went in then, and the six of them began to live together. And then there came along a bear. He was very slow and heavy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, I do, Croaker the Frog, I do, Bandy Legs the hare, the hill jumper, I do, Reynard the fox the fine talker, I do, Prowler the wolf who lurks behind the bush, I do, Flat Nose the boar, and who are you?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I am bear Bigfoot. Let me in.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“We cannot let you in. There is no room.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Sit a little closer.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“All right, if you make yourself a little smaller,” Yes, the bear could just fit inside. Now the seven of them began to live together inside the mitten.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the meantime the old man had noticed that he had lost his mitten. He turned around and began to search for it. The dog went in front of him and sniffed all the way. Suddenly he saw the mitten, it was lying in the snow and ... moved as if it were alive.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The dog began to bark “Woof, woof, woof!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The seven animals in the mitten got such a fright that they quickly jumped out and ran into the forest.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then the old man came and picked up his mitten.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: underline;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Story notes:</span></span><br />
I have also come across this story as a shortened version: there were only the first five characters, and the little house was a pot that had fallen on the side of the road. After all the characters had made the pot their home, the story ends like this:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">And then there came along a bear. He was very slow and heavy. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"Little house, little house, who lives in this little house?"</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">“I do, Nibbler the Mouse, I do, Croaker the Frog, I do, Bandy Legs the hare, the hill jumper, I do, Reynard the fox the fine talker, I do, Prowler the wolf who lurks behind the bush, and who are you?”</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">"I am bear Squash-the-Lot." And the bear sat down on the pot and squashed the lot of them!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span><br />
The way to tell this story is to make one hand the pot, and fingers and the thumb of the other hand the animals that go in one by one. When it came to the end and the bear came along, the bear squashed the whole lot. If a child is acting out the pot and characters with their hands, you can squash the lot with your own and end up in a big bear hug.<br />
<br />
Seems a bit of a harsh ending, but my experience is that children love it!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-56453611859647681722010-02-09T21:16:00.001-08:002010-02-10T17:14:37.329-08:00WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR TO WORK TODAY?<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">WHAT WOULD YOU WEAR TO WORK TODAY?<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">Written by Jennifer McCormack, Jan 2010</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What would you wear to work today?</div><div class="MsoNormal">To do your job in the very best way?</div><div class="MsoNormal">What would you wear to work today,</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you were a fire fighter?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I were to be a fire fighter</div><div class="MsoNormal">And drive my truck so red</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would wear my safety goggles</div><div class="MsoNormal">And a helmet on my head</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would be in my fire proof suit</div><div class="MsoNormal">With my gloves and pockets</div><div class="MsoNormal">And my fire proof boots</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I were to be a fire fighter</div><div class="MsoNormal">And drive my truck so red.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What would you wear to work today?</div><div class="MsoNormal">To do your job in the very best way?</div><div class="MsoNormal">What would you wear to work today,</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you were a police officer?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I were to be a police officer</div><div class="MsoNormal">Driving in on the beat</div><div class="MsoNormal">I would wear my blue checked hat</div><div class="MsoNormal">And blue uniform so neat.</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’d have my belt with pockets</div><div class="MsoNormal">For all the handy things I need</div><div class="MsoNormal">And keep a notebook ready</div><div class="MsoNormal">To write down things I see.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">What would you wear to work today?</div><div class="MsoNormal">To do your job in the very best way?</div><div class="MsoNormal">What would you wear to work today,</div><div class="MsoNormal">If you were an expert chef?</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I were an expert chef</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my busy kitchen</div><div class="MsoNormal">I’d wear good shoes, to protect my toes</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I dropped anything on them!</div><div class="MsoNormal">A clean apron to cover</div><div class="MsoNormal">My checked shirt and black pants</div><div class="MsoNormal">A hat to cover up my hair</div><div class="MsoNormal">And of course I’d have clean hands!</div><div class="MsoNormal">If I were an expert chef</div><div class="MsoNormal">In my busy kitchen</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-25860526277389806302010-02-09T21:15:00.001-08:002010-02-10T17:13:47.730-08:00SPLASHING AND SWIMMING IN THE SUMMER TIME<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">SPLASHING AND SWIMMING IN THE SUMMER TIME<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Summer Morning Circle<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">By Jennifer McCormack, Summer 2010</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Sung(chorus)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal">Splashing and swimming in the summer time</div><div class="MsoNormal">Cooling off in the water is just fine</div><div class="MsoNormal">Diving and kicking, keeping ourselves cool</div><div class="MsoNormal">Splashing about at the beach, creek or pool!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spoken<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal">This morning we go creeping down to our little creek</div><div class="MsoNormal">Where the water trickles slowly and it isn’t very deep</div><div class="MsoNormal">Heavy rocks and little rocks to lift and throw!</div><div class="MsoNormal">Make a rock castle and watch it grow</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Repeat Chorus</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spoken<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal">Today we are swimming in our local pool</div><div class="MsoNormal">There are lots of people here keeping themselves cool</div><div class="MsoNormal">Breast stroke, free-style and back stroke too</div><div class="MsoNormal">We practise our swimming in the local pool</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Repeat Chorus</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spoken</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">Running down to the beach on hot, hot sand!</div><div class="MsoNormal">The waves foam and roll and crash on the land</div><div class="MsoNormal"> “Stay between the flags”, the life guards say</div><div class="MsoNormal">Swimming with our boogie boards all the day</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Repeat Chorus</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Spoken</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">A drink of water and long-sleeved clothes</div><div class="MsoNormal">A hat to stop the sunfaires dancing on my nose</div><div class="MsoNormal">Wherever we swim, we must learn</div><div class="MsoNormal">To enjoy the water without a sunburn!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Repeat Chorus</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-71725349949356848412010-02-09T21:10:00.000-08:002010-02-09T21:10:21.263-08:00ABOUT KINANHONEKE AND KINKONHANEKE<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>About Kinkanhoneke and Kinkonhaneke</u><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(From <u>Repetitive Stories: A collection for young and old</u>, Hella Coenen, 1997)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kinkanhoneke had to carry the porridge and Kinkonhaneke had to gather the wood. When Kinkonhaneke came home Kinankoneke had drowned in the porridge.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kinkonhaneke began to cry. And the window asked why he was crying, “because Kinkanhoneke has drowned” said Kinkonhaneke.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The window began to clatter. And the door asked the window why it was clattering so much, “because Kinkonhaneke is crying, because Kinokanhoneke drowned in the porridge.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then the door began to creak. And the pear tree asked why it was creaking. “Because the window is clattering, because Kinkonhaneke is crying, because Kinokanhoneke drowned in the porridge.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then the pear tree let his leaves hang down. And the nut tree asked the pear tree why it was letting its leaves hang down. “Because the door is creaking, because the window is clattering, because Kinkonhaneke is crying, because Kinokanhoneke drowned in the porridge.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With that the nut tree began to drop all its nuts. And there came along a woman who asked the nut tree why it was dropping all its nuts. “Because the pear tree is letting all its leaves hang down, because the door is creaking, because the window is clattering, because Kinkonhaneke is crying, because Kinokanhoneke drowned in the porridge.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">With that the woman began to drop all her eggs into pieces. And there came along an old man with an iron rod and a jug in his hand, and he asked why the woman was dropping all her eggs into pieces. “Because the nut tree is dropping all its nuts, because the pear tree is letting all its leaves hang down, because the door is creaking, because the window is clattering, because Kinkonhaneke is crying, because Kinokanhoneke drowned in the porridge.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“If that is so”, said the old man, “then I will beat my jug with my iron rod into a hundred pieces.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then there came a pig with a snout and my story is out.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-15141346789142262392010-02-09T21:09:00.000-08:002010-02-09T21:11:49.205-08:00THE KING'S BREAKFAST<div class="Section1"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 100.0%;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; width: 99.94%;" width="99%"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 100.0%;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; width: 100.0%;" valign="top" width="100%"></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></td> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; width: .06%;" valign="top" width="0%"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
</span></div></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></div><div class="Section2"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 100.0%;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;" valign="top"><table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="MsoNormalTable" style="mso-cellspacing: 0cm; mso-padding-alt: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; mso-yfti-tbllook: 1184; width: 100.0%;"><tbody>
<tr style="mso-yfti-firstrow: yes; mso-yfti-irow: 0; mso-yfti-lastrow: yes;"> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; width: 22.5pt;" valign="top" width="30"><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
</span></div></td> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm; width: 100.0%;" valign="top" width="100%"><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">The King's Breakfast</span></span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">by A.A. Milne</span></span></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
The King asked<br />
The</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-king-s-breakfast/" target="undefined"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">Queen</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">, and<br />
The Queen asked<br />
The Dairymaid:<br />
"Could we have some butter for<br />
The Royal slice of bread?"<br />
The Queen asked the Dairymaid,<br />
The Dairymaid<br />
Said, "Certainly,<br />
I'll go and tell the</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-king-s-breakfast/" target="undefined"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">cow</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"><br />
Now<br />
Before she goes to bed."<br />
<br />
The Dairymaid<br />
She curtsied,<br />
And went and told<br />
The Alderney:<br />
"Don't forget the butter for<br />
The Royal slice of bread."<br />
The Alderney<br />
Said sleepily:<br />
"You'd better tell<br />
His Majesty<br />
That many people nowadays<br />
Like marmalade<br />
Instead."<br />
<br />
The Dairymaid<br />
Said, "Fancy!"<br />
And went to<br />
Her Majesty.<br />
She curtsied to the Queen, and<br />
She turned a little red:<br />
"Excuse me,<br />
Your Majesty,<br />
For taking of<br />
The liberty,<br />
But marmalade is tasty, if<br />
It's very<br />
Thickly<br />
Spread."<br />
<br />
The Queen said<br />
"Oh!:<br />
And went to<br />
His Majesty:<br />
"Talking of the butter for<br />
The royal slice of bread,<br />
Many people<br />
Think that<br />
Marmalade<br />
Is nicer.<br />
Would you like to try a little<br />
Marmalade<br />
Instead?"<br />
<br />
The King said,<br />
"Bother!"<br />
And then he said,<br />
"Oh, deary me!"<br />
The King sobbed, "Oh, deary me!"<br />
And went back to</span> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><a href="http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-king-s-breakfast/" target="undefined"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">bed</span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;">.<br />
"Nobody,"<br />
He whimpered,<br />
"Could call me<br />
A fussy man;<br />
I only want<br />
A little bit<br />
Of butter for<br />
My bread!"<br />
<br />
The Queen said,<br />
"There, there!"<br />
And went to<br />
The Dairymaid.<br />
The Dairymaid<br />
Said, "There, there!"<br />
And went to the shed.<br />
The cow said,<br />
"There, there!<br />
I didn't really<br />
Mean it;<br />
Here's milk for his porringer,<br />
And butter for his bread."<br />
<br />
The Queen took<br />
The butter<br />
And brought it to<br />
His Majesty;<br />
The King said,<br />
"Butter, eh?"<br />
And bounced out of bed.<br />
"Nobody," he said,<br />
As he kissed her<br />
Tenderly,<br />
"Nobody," he said,<br />
As he slid down the banisters,<br />
"Nobody,<br />
My darling,<br />
Could call me<br />
A fussy man -<br />
BUT<br />
I do like a little bit of butter to my bread!"</span> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10.5pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></td> <td style="padding: 0cm 0cm 0cm 0cm;"></td> </tr>
</tbody></table></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"><br clear="all" style="mso-break-type: section-break; page-break-before: auto;" /></span> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #ffe599;"> </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-8474122700759321912010-02-09T21:06:00.005-08:002010-02-10T01:30:31.880-08:00THE FIVE GOATS<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>The Five Goats</u></b><u><o:p></o:p></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(From <u>Repetitive Stories: A collection for young and old</u>, Hella Coenen, 1997)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was once a boy who every day had to look after the five goats of his father. He looked after them very well. Every morning he brought them into the meadow. There was nice grass to eat and clear water to drink. Every evening he brought them home again and then they were milked and gave of their creamy milk.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One evening the goats wanted to stay in the meadow, the boy could not manage to get them into the stables. “Hop, hop, home you go! You have to be milked.” He cried. But the goats did not go, and they continued eating from the juicy grass. Then his sister came and said, “Wait, Let me try. I will bring them inside,” and she ran after the goats. But they did not want to go inside.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Just them there came a dog walking by. “Wait. Let me try. I will bring them to the stables; my voice is much louder than yours. It will scare the goats and then I will bring them inside.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Woof, woof, woof.” The dog ran behind the goats. But they did not get scared and from the juicy grass, and they did not go inside.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then came the red fox to see why the dog was barking so loudly. “Let me try,” said the fox. “the dog howls much too loudly. I know something better. I will get that done.” The fox ran behind the goats and cried, “Hee, Hee, inside you goats.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the goats did not take any notice and just continued eating from the juicy grass.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then came the horse. “Let me fix this,” said the horse. “I am bigger than the fox. I can do more than the dog, and I have more legs than the boy.” The horse ran to the goats and called “It’s nearly dark, goats; it’s time that you go into the stables.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the goats scarcely looked at the horse and continued eating again from the nice fresh grass and did not go inside.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then came a bee flying by. “What is happening here? He asked, “Why are you still in the field so late?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“The goats do not want to go inside,” said the boy and the girl. “Nobody can get them into the stable. The horse cannot. The fox cannot. The dog cannot. And we also cannot.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes, so it is,” said the horse, and the fox, and the dog.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Then it is my turn,” said the bee. “I will lead them inside. Let me try this.”</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You are much too small,” said the boy and the girl.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You cannot make enough noise,” said the dog.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You cannot run on four legs around the field,: said the horse.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“You will see,” said the bee, and he flew away. He flew directly to the biggest goat and went “buzz, buzz, zoom, zoom,” in his ear. The goat lifted his head up immediately and saw the bee, “Oh, what is that?” cried the goat, and ran away as fast as he could.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“If you are going inside I shall go as well,” said the next goat.</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Then we shall all go to the stable,” said the other goats. And so the eventually all went to the stable.</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-3634201322424053022010-02-09T21:06:00.001-08:002010-02-09T21:06:11.034-08:00A WINTER RABBIT<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Winter Story</u></b><u><o:p></o:p></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(From <u>Repetitive Stories: A collection for young and old</u>, Hella Coenen, 1997)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It snows and it snows and it snows and the fields are white. The rabbit has nothing to eat. Carefully, he looks out of his burrow. “Brrrr, it’s cold.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The rabbit wants to go and look for something. DO you know what? For two big winter carrots that were sleeping under the snow.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Nibble, nibble, nibble. He finished one of them. Now he was not hungry anymore. The rabbit thinks, “It is so cold and it is snowing so, maybe my neighbour the horse is hungry. I shall take him the second carrot.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hoppity, hoppity, trot. The cold hurts me not.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Knock, knock, knock, he opens the door. Oh, the horse is not there. Carefully he puts the carrot down, and the rabbit disappears into the snow again. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the cold wet snow, the horse is looking for something to eat. Hey, there was something! Do you know what? A big fat turnip under a heap in the snow.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Bite, bite, bite, and he eats the whole turnip up. “That tasted good!” Now he is not hungry any more. He goes back to the stable. When he arrives home he sees the carrot.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Who has brought this here?” he syas in astonishment, “It must have been the rabbit because I can see his foot prints in the deep snow. Oh how kind of him.” The horse thinks, “it is so cold and it is snowing so, maybe my neighbour the sheep is hungry. I shall taker her the carrot.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Hoppity, trot trot, so, to the sheep I go. Never tired or slow, trotting through the snow.”<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Knock, knock, knock. He pushes the door open. “Oh, the sheep is not here.” Carefully he puts the carrot down, and the rabbit disappears into the snow again.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The sheep with her thick woolly coat has gone to look for something to eat. Hey, there she sees something. Do you know what. A beautiful red cabbage. It was hiding under the snow. She eats the cabbage, leaf after leaf, “bite, bite, bite.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Now she is not hungry any more. So she quickly goes back to the sheep pen. When she gets home she sees the carrot and says in astonishment. “Who has brought this here? It must have been the horse, because I can see his hoof prints here in the deep snow.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The hseep think, “It is so cold, and it is snowing so hard, maybe my friend the deer is hungry. I shall take him the carrot.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Oh, sheep so brave and without fear, you will find your friend the deer, by the forest very near.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">IKnock, knock, knock, she opens the door. Oh, the deer is not here. Carefully she puts the carrot down and the sheep disappears again.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">In the cold wet snow the sdder is trying to find something. Do you know what? A little bunch of frozen grass. Bite, chew, bite, it tastes just right. So now she is not hu ngry anymore. When she comes home she sees the carrot lying there and she says in astonishment, “Who has brought this here? That must have been the brown sheep. Look, a tussle of wool is left behind there.” The deer thinks, “It is so cold and it is snowing so, maybe my friend the rabbit is hungry. I shall go and take this carrot to him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Jump, little deer, jump so high. Over the hedge, and the field nearby<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Right through the forest with trees so bare,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You will find friend rabbit awaiting there.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At last she sees the burrow where her dear friend lives. She pushes against the door. She sees her friend asleep in his bed.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Carefully she puts the carrot down. Then the rabbit awakes. The deer says “It is so cold and it is snowing so hard, maybe you have not got any food. That is why I bring you this carrot.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And that is how the carrot went from the rabbit to the horse,</div><div class="MsoNormal">From the horse to the sheep,</div><div class="MsoNormal">From the sheep to the deer,</div><div class="MsoNormal">From the deer back to the rabbit.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Those are really good friends.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-73266247423194311892010-02-09T21:05:00.001-08:002010-02-09T21:05:19.641-08:00THE GINGERBREAD BOY<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>The Gingerbread Boy</u></b><u><o:p></o:p></u></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(From <u>Repetitive Stories: A collection for young and old</u>, Hella Coenen, 1997)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was once a woman who hadn’t any children of her own and wanted one very much. One day she said to her husband, “I shall bake myself a nice gingerbread boy. That’s what I shall do.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Her husband laughed at the idea but that very morning she mixed the dough and rolled it. Then she cut out a little boy shape with a smiling mouth and two currants for eyes. When she popped him in the oven she waited for him to bake and then she opened the door. Out jumped the gingerbread boy and he ran away through the kitchen and right outside.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Husband, husband,” called the woman as she ran after the gingerbread boy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The man dropped his spade when he heard his wife call and came running from the field. But when the gingerbread boy saw the woman and the man chasing him, he only laughed, running faster and faster and shouting:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">On he ran until he met a cow. “Moo! Moo!” called the cow. “Stop! Stop! I want to eat you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the gingerbread boy only laughed and ran faster than ever, shouting. “I’ve run away from a woman and a man and now I’ll run away from you!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The cow chased after him but she was too fat and couldn’t catch him. He raced on until he came to a horse. “Neigh! Neigh!” snorted the horse. “You look good to eat. Stop and let me gobble you up.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the gingerbread boy only laughed and ran faster than ever, shouting. “I’ve run away from a woman, a man, and a cow and now I’ll run away from you!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The horse galloped after the Gingerbread boy but couldn’t catch him. He raced on faster and faster until he came to some farmers in a field. “Ho! Ho!” they cried. “Stop! Stop! And let us have a bite!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But the gingerbread boy only laughed and ran faster than ever, shouting. “I’ve run away from a woman, a man, a cow and a horse, and now I’ll run away from you!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Run, run as fast as you can, you can’t catch me, I’m the gingerbread man!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The men joined in the chase but no one could catch the gingerbread boy. He raced ahead until he came to a river and had to stop. There he met a fox who wanted very much to eat him then and there, but he was afraid the clever gingerbread boy might escape. So he said politely, “Do you want to cross the river?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Yes please,” said the gingerbread boy.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Well then, jump on my back and I’ll swim across.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Thank you,” said the gingerbread boy and he did that.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When they were about halfway across, the fox said, “The water is deeper here. I think you’d better crawl up onto my neck.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Thank you,” said the gingerbread boy and he did that. When they had gone three-quarters of the way across, the fox said, “You’d better climb up onto my head. You can’t be very comfortable there.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Thank you,” said the gingerbread boy and he did just that. “We’re nearly there now,” said the fox a moment later. “I think you’d be safer if you get onto my nice long nose.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Thank you,” said the gingerbread boy. No sooner had he climbed onto the fox’s nose then the fox threw back his head and SNAP! Went his big mouth. The gingerbread boy was half gone.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">SNAP! The gingerbread boy was three quarters gone.</div><div class="MsoNormal">SNAP! The gingerbread boy was all gone.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And that was the end of the gingerbread boy who had been too clever for the woman, the man, the cow, the horse and the farmers, but not clever enough for the fox.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-64779139479954880882010-02-09T21:04:00.001-08:002010-02-10T17:14:14.920-08:00THE LITTLE YELLOW DIGGER<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Little Yellow Digger<o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal">By Jennifer McCormack, based on the story by Betty and Alan Gilderdale</div><div class="MsoNormal">(to the tune of “A Foolish Man built his house upon the sand”)</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was a little digger, a little yellow digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was a little digger, a little yellow digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">There was a little digger, a little yellow digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">Working hard to dig a hole</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The rain came down and the digger got stuck</div><div class="MsoNormal">The rain came down and the digger got stuck</div><div class="MsoNormal">The rain came down and the digger got stuck</div><div class="MsoNormal">Got stuck in the mud and the muck!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So a bigger digger came to help the yellow digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">So a bigger digger came to help the yellow digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">So a bigger digger came to help the yellow digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">That was stuck in the mud and the muck!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It pulled and it pulled and its wheels spun around</div><div class="MsoNormal">It pulled and it pulled and its wheels spun around</div><div class="MsoNormal">It pulled and it pulled and its wheels spun around</div><div class="MsoNormal">And it got stuck in the mud and the muck!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so along to help came another bigger digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so along to help came another bigger digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">And so along to help came another bigger digger</div><div class="MsoNormal">To pull the two diggers from the muck!</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">It pulled and it pulled and its wheels spun around</div><div class="MsoNormal">It pulled and it pulled and its wheels spun around</div><div class="MsoNormal">It pulled and it pulled and its wheels spun around</div><div class="MsoNormal">And it got stuck in the mud and the muck!</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">SPOKEN</i></div><div class="MsoNormal">The rain went away and the sun shone bright</div><div class="MsoNormal">The people came to help the three diggers stuck tight!</div><div class="MsoNormal">The ground dried up and they brought in a truck</div><div class="MsoNormal">To pull out the little yellow digger that was stuck!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The people dug and the truck pulled and pulled</div><div class="MsoNormal">The people dug and the truck pulled and pulled</div><div class="MsoNormal">The people dug and the truck pulled and pulled</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the little yellow digger came free!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the little yellow digger dug out the bigger diggers</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the little yellow digger dug out the bigger diggers</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the little yellow digger dug out the bigger diggers</div><div class="MsoNormal">Free from the mud and the muck!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">(Repeat 1<sup>st</sup> Verse to finish)</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-31444378981691733662010-02-09T21:03:00.000-08:002010-02-09T21:14:00.270-08:00THE BOY WHO BUILT THE BOAT<div class="MsoNormal"></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Boy Who Built the Boat<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Adapted by Jennifer McCormack </i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">from the story of the same name, </i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">by Ross Mueller and Craig Smith<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(Published by Allen & Unwin ,2006)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span></div><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">Down at the bottom of Henry’s backyard is a shed where his dad builds boats. It is a shed filled with tools that hang on the walls and sawdust and big ideas. There are hammers and nails and drills and saws and useful things that his dad likes to keep there because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“You never know when you might need them.”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Early one day, when his dad was working in the shed Henry decided it was time he built a boat of his own.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So ...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry set out to build a boat that day and he took along a hammer to hammer in all the nails.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And you never know when you might need a hammer.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry went out to build a boat that day and he took along a drill, to drill some holes in the wood.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And you never know when you might need a drill or a hammer, <o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">or a drill or a hammer.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry went out to build a boat that day and he took along a saw, to cut a mast for the boat ...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And you never know when you might need a saw or a drill or a hammer,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Or a saw or a drill or a hammer.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry went out to build a boat that day and he took along a drop sheet, to use for the sails on his boat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And you never know when you might need a drop sheet or a saw or a drill or a hammer,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Or a drop sheet or a saw or a drill or a hammer.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry went out to build a boat that day and he took along a tape measure to make sure he measured everything correctly.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">And you never know when you might need a tape measure or a drop sheet or a saw or a drill or a hammer,<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Or a tape measure or a drop sheet or a saw or a drill or a hammer.</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry went out to build a boat that day and he took along his wheelbarrow to see if the boat would float. He filled the wheelbarrow with water from the hose and soon it became his ocean.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He held up the boat for his dad to see, and he said very loudly in his best Captain’s voice<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">, “Good luck to the S.S. Henry!”</i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The boat bobbled and it wobbled</div><div class="MsoNormal">And it tumbled and it tacked</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the wind was behind it</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the ocean was rough.</div><div class="MsoNormal">The mast was straight and the sail was filled</div><div class="MsoNormal">And it all held together</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the S.S.Henry was STRONG.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">He was very excited and his dad was impressed.</div><div class="MsoNormal">He had used all the tools from the shed down the back,</div><div class="MsoNormal">The hammer and the drill</div><div class="MsoNormal">And the saw and the drop sheet,</div><div class="MsoNormal">The tape measure and the wheelbarrow,</div><div class="MsoNormal">The useful bits and pieces that were needed that day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Henry had put them all together and created something special</div><div class="MsoNormal">He had built ...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">A really good boat.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-46734335621475225872010-02-09T20:29:00.001-08:002010-02-10T17:13:24.601-08:00STAR MONEY (FESTIVAL STORY)<div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hKlCNpqvZOqRtgOK-FbWS-K-0OCS0oUCH91mGHFOkWCA0m01eYfp1gi74avCBL-AjpvvU5hKi1sewac9EO8eb_4F7H7YoZif1BVMKXHJnSvjHsXrWJeICtkxf9UAy4Exidps4L_UG6U/s1600-h/lantern+fest+09+003.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347082243019723250" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hKlCNpqvZOqRtgOK-FbWS-K-0OCS0oUCH91mGHFOkWCA0m01eYfp1gi74avCBL-AjpvvU5hKi1sewac9EO8eb_4F7H7YoZif1BVMKXHJnSvjHsXrWJeICtkxf9UAy4Exidps4L_UG6U/s200/lantern+fest+09+003.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 133px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" /></a><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347082240651321522" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjORTtBkyaytwbTIGvA1EmWWzDepL9o-v4OSVbRHpENwGtf8EYfgiAd983dW09AUc5g2Xhp9CxLfJ8etUbbgUJ7fE56JHPeqPLnpRPSX8e9nUIEo7YfCTU_DN2BnQe4AkclGGnwqBV0q2o/s200/lantern+fest+09+006.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 133px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" /><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347082237977535618" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxqeWYKncF8jSGhfBX-Dx170FxTapKE88ZNFXWR_H9weiprEzn-x7k4-P4X0WE7zeUk93HDq6fU4-hml2AA10iK6eHrQkAzwK9naqCaDCI92-v4QiVh7qeev_zn8z43Lblu2_fuqIe1DU/s200/lantern+fest+09+009.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 133px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 200px;" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
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</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346753459920048562" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqsPyAOsq8-12TpjQcXd1jJlwCIXMLjrHLNefkOBbYZak0OKznd8pS91_hbF01JuY6ZK8hsWuqLKAmFvUyAawmd0ZamC42WG06owYp2N5ct8VOB74nmFnv1iOKhUwNKVtikGGPE-FZC1M/s400/winter+candle+spiral.jpg" style="float: left; height: 71px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 111px;" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Tonight we held the Friends of Lavendilly House Winter Festival. Oh it was so lovely! We met early for a play in the park, and an early picnic dinner and just as the sun went down we gathered for some songs, a story and finishing with a lantern walk. We walked our lanterns through a candle-lit spiral laid out on the </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">ground, and then we stood in the circle and sang lullabys. </div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346753738409079762" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyNG9WbPCIo_8EuhNYdzEEgTs0sFNsjFFV37bqoPJkIvEfWVv_qrQXAm_2mNDx89AKtvDyV1DVGwAmumELYdaudfUu_BU9EGbflpx9dTSSTOcX4jGhPSBZHWWZzeuHfIygpNoGCjwfBks/s400/star_money.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 167px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 118px;" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">The mood of the evening was mellow, and it was such a beautiful thing to</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"> share this experience with my good friends. I've been so excited all day! Simple pleasures are the best ones I think. Tonight was proof of that. Our spiral circle wasn't quite as spectacular as the one pictured ... but that didn't matter. What was really lovely for me tonight was the attention from some children who were watching me lay out the spiral. I don't know who they were, but they were so interested they couldn't help coming close to watch. Eventually they helped me position the candles in the bags, and they lit the candles too. They found sticks for the lanterns and helped me set them all up. They were going to go back home and ask if they could listen to our story. I hope they were able to return, but in the darkness I couldn't see them.</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346753942918186658" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFgVOkBqn_AvuGiBZLsWmdBq-6RU7V1IVhZJfqOP4Fph9k04BEcOHJV5Lf7BuuLExwo6FsykL0TxDYgdEZnD9c_3mDgzlgQtfTAFzKq4a5BxBKpD6tTpGD1LUScn8JdU0560eeN4-TP_A/s400/star+money.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 132px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0px; width: 105px;" /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">I so enjoyed telling my story tonight. It is my own version of the Grims Fairytale "Star Money". David strummed and droned on the guitar in the background, and that was magic. It set the scene for the story, at a slow walking pace, and carried us through as we followed the journey of the little girl out in the cold winter night. The story is a perfect reflection of winter time. The story follows the journey of a little girl who gives away all she has, and lays down to die in the snow. She is brought to new life by Mother Mary and her Son and rewarded for her generosity with heavenly riches. Yes, it is a bit sad, but to me that is the story of winter. It is death and rebirth. And for the sake of the children, I only alluded to the death of the little girl. Imagine this song sung in a slow, minor mood (make up your own tune):</div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">STAR MONEY</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">retold by Jennifer McCormack</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; font-style: italic;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">One cold and frosty winter night</div></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">A little girl walked alone</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She had no food, nor carried a light</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She had no money, nor a home.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">...no money, nor a home ...</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She came upon an old woman</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Who was so frail and ill</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She had no hat upon her head</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">To keep out winter chills.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The little girl took off her hat</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And gave it willingly</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She said to the old woman</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"You need this more than me".</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">... you need this more than me...</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She came upon a little boy</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Whose feet were cold and blue</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">He'd walked along this winter night</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Without any shoes.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The little girl took off her shoes</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And gave them willingly</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She said to the little boy</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"You need them more than me".</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> ... you need them more than me ...</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She came upon a small, small girl</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Whose dress was full of holes</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">It was so thin and did not keep</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Out the winter cold.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The little girl took off her dress</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And gave it willingly</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She said to the small, small girl</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"You need this more than me."</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">... you need this more than me ...</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The little girl had nothing left</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She lay down on the ground</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The winter night was bitter cold</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She prayed she would be found.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mother Mary and her Son</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Looked down from above</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">"She gave away all she had,</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Let's send her down our love."</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">... send her down our love ...</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Mary spun some moon threads</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Into a silken dress</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And all the stars turned into gold</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And rained about her head.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And when the little girl arose</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">She was no longer cold</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And all about her, glittering</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Lay pieces of star gold.</span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"> ... pieces of star gold ...</span></span></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br />
</span></div></div><div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5346759882132812930" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtvhQpuVeb2JsPsojXYEXnETConGtwtAVlSgdWOrsGg58aMaq3oqxJaNQAI37ri_LtlBkXHDlpmZ_1n5I5pTVLK61BZWGSv3lLrrsL4YCBSqup_GpxilNh0LWY8G-No5nf-MEKYdT0izg/s400/star+lantern.jpg" style="cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 121px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center; width: 121px;" /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">** You are welcome to use my story, please ask my permission first, thank you**</span></div><div><br />
</div></div><div style="text-align: center;"></div></div></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-84882605926531064252010-02-09T20:27:00.001-08:002010-02-09T20:30:58.978-08:00THE STAR CHILD (STAR MONEY)<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>Star Child</u><o:p></o:p></b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Brothers Grimm</b></div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">(From <u>Repetitive Stories: A collection for young and old</u>, Hella Coenen, 1997)<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once upon a time there was a little girl whose father and mother were dead. She was so poor that she no longer had a room to live in or bed to sleep in. And at last she had nothing else but the clothes she was wearing and a little bit of bread in her hand which some charitable soul had given her.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">However she was good and pious. And as she was thus forsaken by all the world she went forth into the open country, trusting in the good God.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then a poor man met her and said: “Ah, give me something to eat, I am so hungry.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">She handed him the whole of her piece of bread, and said, “May God bless you,” and went onwards.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then came a child who moaned and said, “My head is so cold, give me something to cover it with.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So she took off her hood and gave it to him, when she had walked a little farther, she met another child who had no jacket and was frozen with cold. Then she gave it her own, and a little farther on one begged for a frock, and she gave that away also.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">At length she got into a forest and it had already become dark. There came yet another child and asked for a shirt. The good little girl though to herself, “It is a dark night and no one sees you, you can very well give your shirt away,” and took it off and gave that away too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As she so stood and had not one single thing left, suddenly some stars from heaven fell down and they were nothing else but smooth hard pieces of gold. Although she had just given away her shirt, she had a new one which was of the very finest linen. Then she put the money into it, and was rich all the days of her life.</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-35491960550742125332010-02-09T20:25:00.001-08:002010-02-09T20:25:46.906-08:00THE HARE IN THE MOON<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><u>The Hare in the Moon<o:p></o:p></u></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Worapun Kittisrisopit, published in ‘Star Weavings’ – issue unknown<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Worapun told her children this story, which originates in India, to prepare them for the Moon festival on September 21, and the children made Chinese cookies used to worship the moon goddess.<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Once upon a time in the Himalayan Mountains – the highest mountains in India – there were three hares. They had found each other and come together to pray because they wished wholeheartedly to go to heaven. One of the hares had brown fur, the second had spotted fur and the third was white as snow. The three hares loved each other and what one hare did, so did all the others. They all wished so fervently to go to heaven that they went to the top of the crystal ice mountain. There they lived in three little caves where they could be closest to heaven and not troubled by other creatures.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Every morning they got up and prayed to God, taking only the briefest time away from their prayers to find food. Most of the time their thoughts were with God and his creations.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Many years passed and at last their prayers got to heaven. God decided to reward the hares for their piety, but first he wanted the hares to prove their holiness. So God said to the moon: “Tonight you must not shine before midnight. I want you to go to the Himalayan Mountains and to visit the three religious hares who live there. Ask them for something to eat and when you have eaten with them, come back and tell me how each hare welcomed you.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">So as the sun went down, Chandra the moon went to the brown hare. The moon knocked at the door just as the hare was preparing his evening meal. When the brown hare saw Chandra standing outside he asked, full of joy, to enter and share the meal with him. After Chandra finished the meal he thanked the brown hare and went on to visit the spotted hare in his cave. The spotted hare heard someone coming, opened the door and said, full of joy, “Be welcome!” Chandra said, “I am hungry and tired; can you give me something to each?” “With pleasure,<br />
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>said the hare, “but I was praying for so long today that I forgot my meal. Will you please wait a little while I search for something for us to eat?” After a while the meal was ready and Chandra thanked the spotted hare for the meal.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then he went on to visit the third hare. It was a long journey and Chandra the moon felt cold and tired when finally he found the hare who was white as snow. He asked the white hare for something to eat. But the white hare had been praying all the time and had forgotten his meals entirely. He went to the kitchen and found nothing that he could prepare for his guest. So he said to Chandra, “Do you eat meat?” Chandra did not wish to trouble the hare so he said “Do not worry, I will eat anything.” So the white hare gathered some dry branches into a heap, took a big iron pot, lit a fire in the wood and, when the pot was hot, the white hare sprang into it. Chandra went immediately back to God to tell him what had happened. But when he go to heaven Chandra saw the white hare sitting in the lap of God. And God said “Chandra, take the hare with you; he shall sit in the moon. And from that day on you could see the pious hare with its long ears sitting in the full shining moon.</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-47756496607596896342010-02-09T20:24:00.003-08:002010-02-09T20:24:25.818-08:00THE KITE<div class="MsoNormal"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;">The Kite</span></b><span style="font-size: 20.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Worapun Kittisrisopit<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Once upon a time there was a little boy who had a lovely and beautiful smile as bright as a sunflower. Everyone loved him. The sun warmed him during the day and the moon shone down on him all through the night. The boy had gentle but strong hands. He could pat his pony gently and it loved him dearly. He could hammer nails and always helped Daddy fix things on his farm.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One day the boy received a special gift from his grandfather. It was a kite, the first kite the boy had ever had. The kite was blue with a yellow circle on it and a long red tail. That morning the boy’s grandfather took him out and taught him to fly it. They had such a good time together.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">One day, when all the leaves had turned golden yellow and were falling down to the earth, the little boy went out to fly his kite in a field nearby. He ran and ran until the kits rose up, high into the sky. As he looked up, the kite flew and flew, higher and higher, until the string ran out of his hands. Suddenly, the strong wind blew the boy’s kite far, far from him. He ran after it until he could run no more, and he sat down under a tree, exhausted. The kite was gone and the boy wept quietly and did not know what he could do.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Above his head he heard the singing of a bird and the bird said, “Little boy, why are you crying?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“My kite flew away. I want it back so much. Do you know which way it went?” asked the boy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“I can fly to the wind and ask her,” said the bird.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The bird flew away into the wind and asked, “Wind! Wind! Do you know where the boy’s kite went?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry, Bird, I don’t know. I just blow and blow and I don’t have any eyes to see,” said the wind.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">Then the bird turned to the sun: “Sun! Sun! Do you know where the boy’s kite went?”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Sorry, Bird, I don’t know; I just sine and shine, brightly all the time,” said the sun. Then the bird went to Mother Earth and asked, “Mother Earth! Mother Earth! Do you know where the boy’s kite went?<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">“Tell him to go back home and there he will find a surprise!” Mother Earth said.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The bird flew back to the boy and told him to go back home. The boy walked back home slowly. The sun, the wind, and the water were sad that the boy no longer smiled as brightly as a sunflower. But a surprise awaited the boy.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">When the little boy came home, the grandfather was just sitting in front of the house, waiting for him. He smiled kindly and said to the boy lovingly, “Dear grandson, I have special, special news for you today. This morning I was working in the field and the wind blew strongly around my head, then it brought something to me. And here it is.”<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size: 12.0pt;">The grandfather took his hands from behind his back and in them was the wonderful kite. Now the boy gave his grandfather a very, very, bright and beautiful smile, the smile that everyone, even the sun and the moon, loved to see.<o:p></o:p></span></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-38473959520713720712010-02-09T19:32:00.001-08:002010-02-10T17:15:37.744-08:00WATTLE SUNSPARKS ON THE BANKS OF COOLBUNBIM CREEK<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">The Wattle Sunsparks on the Banks of Coolbunbim Creek<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Suzette Saint-Claire, June 2001<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Winter Story<o:p></o:p></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">There once was a beautiful bushland garden. Many creatures lived here by the banks of Coolbunbim Creek. All through the long hot summer days, the bushland creatures would play and play.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">(song)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">In the summer garden wild flowers grow</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Sunbeam dancers come to pay with</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Bushland creatures to and fro.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">In the summer garden sunbeam dancers play</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">From tree to tree they dance and sing with</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Bushland creatures everyday.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">One game that all the bushland creatures loved to play with the sunbeam dancers was hide and seek. Possum would hide inside his favourite log where he was sure the sunfairies would not find him. And then ...</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">(song)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Possum creep out, Sun fairies shout!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">We see you, we see you, come out! Some out!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">We see you, we see you, come out!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Platypus also liked to lay this game. He would dive down deep beneath the sparkling waters of Coolbunbim creek where sunfairies could not find him.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">(song)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Platypus swims in the creek</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Down he dives into the deep</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Oh so gentle and so meek</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Swimming in Coolbunbim Creek.</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Early one winter morning, Wallaby woke up and wanted to play the hide and seek game with the sunbeam dancers. He found a good hiding spot behind a log</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">(song)</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Wallaby hides behind the log, early morning misty fog</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Sunfairies where have you gone today,</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;">Come out and find me, let us play!</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">But on that winter morning the sunfairies didn’t come looking for their bushland friend. In fact they came much later than usual, and only stayed to play for a little while.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">All the creatures gathered together by the banks of Coolbunbim Creek. Wallaby, Possum, Platypus.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kookaburra sat in the highest branch of the wattle tree and heard what they did say</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Where are those bright little sundancers hiding? Has Father Sun sent them away. The days grow cool and shorter. Not so many come to our bushland to play.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">That night, all the bushland creatures snuggled back into their cosy homes. As they slept they dreamt of golden summer days.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Kookaburra wondered what he could do to help. As the last rays of twilight crept away from the evening sky Kookaburra called out to Father Sun to ask for help.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">As Kookaburra slept that night he had a dream. In his dream he saw a beautiful Palace where King Winter lived. In the palace, he saw that many of the sunfairies had gone there to rest for aw hile.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The sunfairies spoke to him in his dream: </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“One day we will return, to bring back Summer warmth and shine. </div><div class="MsoNormal">For now, we will rest a little while in King Winter’s Palace so fine.</div><div class="MsoNormal">When you wake in the morning, a gift you will see </div><div class="MsoNormal">from Father Sun – on the wattle tree. </div><div class="MsoNormal">A gift of golden light, to brighten winter days.</div><div class="MsoNormal">Reminding you that summer time will soon be on its way.:</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">When Kookaburra woke up the next morning, a wonderful surprise greeted him. Thousands of golden wattle sun sparks were sprinkled all over the bushland trees. His heart was filled with joy at this beautiful sight. So much so that he laughed out loud – waking up all the other bushland creatures.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">The bushland creatures gathered, wallaby, possum, and platypus too. As they watched the little wattle suns brightly glowing on the trees, all was still and quiet.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">Then softly, softly through the trees, there came along a gentle breeze. </div><div class="MsoNormal">With sunbeam dancers on the wind they offered up a song to sing.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“As Winter Days grow short and dark</div><div class="MsoNormal">We’ll leave you with a little spark – </div><div class="MsoNormal">To brighten up your winter days</div><div class="MsoNormal">You’ll see that summer is not too far away!”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Notes about this Story<o:p></o:p></span></u></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">Coolbunbim Creek is the name of the creek that crosses Silkwood School, Mt Nathan, Gold Coast<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">For props have a row of sunfairies hanging from a dowel – bright yellow ones for the start of the story, and pale yellow ones for when the light is dwindling.<o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-21787686464514082942010-02-09T19:31:00.001-08:002010-02-09T20:36:26.885-08:00MY HOUSEHOLD<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">My Household<o:p></o:p></i></b></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Brothers Grimm<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Repetitive Stories<o:p></o:p></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Wither do you go?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“To Walpe.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“I to Walpe, You to Walpe, so, so together we’ll go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Have you a man? What is his name?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Cham.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My man Cham, your man Cham, I to Walpe, you to Walpe; so, so together we’ll go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Have you a child, how is he styled?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Wild.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My child Wild, your child Wild, my man Cham, your man Cham, I to Walpe, you to Walpe, so, so together we’ll go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Have you a cradle? How do you call your cradle?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Hippodadle.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My cradle Hippodadle, your cradle Hippodadle, my child Wild, your child Wild, may man Cham, your man Cham, I to Walpe, you to Walpe, so so, together we’ll go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“Have you also a drudge? What name has your drudge?”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“From-work-do-not-budge.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal">“My drudge From-work-do-not-budge, your drudge From-work-do-not-budge, my cradle Hippodadle, your cradle Hippodadle, my child Wild, your child Wild, may man Cham, your man Cham, I to Walpe, you to Walpe, so so, together we’ll go.”</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br />
</div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4121520941964595925.post-43844656281214196162010-02-09T19:30:00.000-08:002010-02-10T17:45:56.539-08:00LITTLE WOMBAT PUPPET STORY<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Little Wombat Puppet Story</span></i></b><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">By Sandra Busch</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Presented at the Vital Years Conference in Perth, 2005.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Published in Star Weavings Magazine, edition unknown.</span></span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Down in the earth where it’s dark and safe, a mother wombat tidied her burrow. She moved the bracken and soft bark which she had gathered to make a cosy bed. In her pouch a baby wombat drank her warm milk. He could feel his mother’s heart beating and he heard her gentle breathing.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The little wombat continued to grow and soon his body was covered with fur just like his mother. Now that he was bigger, he would sometimes come out of his mother’s pouch and play with the bracken and soft bark. He loved to wander along the tunnels underground and sometimes he would practice his digging: he enjoyed the sounds he made when digging.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One evening as the sun was going down behind the trees, mother wombat came out of her burrow as she usually did to look for food. While she was eating, little wombat came out of her pouch and looked around. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“What a big world I live in”, he said. He saw trees, rocks and logs. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“And this is grass,” his mother said. “You may have a mouthful too”.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The little wombat tried his first mouthful of fresh green grass. It was juicy and moist after the recent rain. Yum it was nice; he took another mouthful then climbed back into his mother’s pouch and chewed and chewed on his first taste of grass.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">One day little wombat had grown so big that he couldn’t fit in his mother’s pouch any more. “You can walk with me now”, she said, and as she came out of the burrow to find food, little wombat followed.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">When he was up on the surface of the earth a little wind blew towards him. “What was that?” he asked.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">“That’s the wind,” his mother said. “It wants to play with you.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then the little wombat felt happy. The wind reminded him of his mother’s breath when she breathed in his face sometimes, and he started to run and jump and roll over. He had a lovely time. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Then he noticed his mother sniffing the rocks and logs, so he thought he should do that too. He discovered from the different smells that other animals had passed that way also. Then his mother told him about dingos and dogs and how he must always be alert to them.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A while later, when little wombat and his mother were out walking, they heard a barking noise. Mother wombat stopped, listened and sniffed the air. “Listen little wombat, that is a dog. We must hurry back to the burrow.”</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The dog came running through the trees after the wombats. Run little wombat, back to the burrow. As the wombats ran they kicked up bits of dust and the little wind saw what was happening and made a whirly wind in front of the dog which slowed him down.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The wombats reached their burrow, little one in first, and then mother wombat went in and waited inside the burrow. When the barking dog came and put his head in the burrow, she ran backwards at him with her strong legs and back. “Be off with you dog. Leave my baby and me alone!” she said.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The dog yelped and pulled his nose out of the burrow. Then he ran off back to the farm where he came from.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Snuggled up next to his mother, little wombat felt proud of his mother and he thought, “When I am bigger and a dog chases me, I’ll do that too.” Outside the little wind blew and told of the little wombats’ adventure to the leaves in the tree tops.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Presentation Notes</span></u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">I chose to use Nature’s toys for the puppets as these are open ended and allow room for the developing imagination.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Banksia seed pods work well for the wombats; a large one for the mother and smaller seed pods for the baby and little wombat.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">The dog was a piece of wood, the gesture of a running dog. This I found in the bush. We attached string to the puppets, like we do with small string puppets.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A table was set up for the story, brown cloth and green silk for the earth’s surface and grass. Backdrop was green, representing the trees and a yellow sun going down. For the burrow, small chairs were placed in front of the table, large bedspreads were used to mould the burrow and tunnels with brown velvet over the top, representing underground. Add small rocks and pieces of logs to complete the setting.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Using Nature’s Toys as Puppets</span></u></i><u><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></u></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">My story rhythm goes over a three week period. First week i tell the story, second week I use the children’s toys as puppets to tell the story; after the first day an older child will help me. The third week we dramatise the story. By this time the children have a deep connection to the story and will often speak the words themselves at the appropriate time.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Over the years I have used nature’s toys as puppets. The curly shells of different sizes make good Billy Goats and a gnarly piece of wood, the troll under the bridge. Flowers make beautiful butterflies.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">This Autumn our Kindergarten garden had many different varieties of Autumn leaves and they were beautiful. I felt as if they were asking me to find a way of bringing them to the children. So on the second week of Briar Rose story, I decided to try using the leaves as puppets. Two big beautiful leaves for the King and Queen, a smaller one for the princess. The cook and kitchen boy were plainer leaves and the 13</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> wise woman was a dark green leaf. It worked very well and brought a wonder to the story. I realise it was my gesture that was important and the leaves became ensouled with the character. I felt it was also along the lines of the knot doll, where Rudolf Steiner recommends that simplicity leaves the child free to add what they need to add, thus encouraging the developing imagination.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">After that the children played with the leaves in many varied ways. A few days later a little boy ran up to me with three lovely leaves and said “Here’s some fairies for you”.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So I wanted to share the idea of using Nature’s toys as puppets at the Vital Years Conference. The little wombat story is a nature story which I wrote a few years ago. It has been printed in Star Weavings before and I did tell it at an earlier Conference, but somehow it didn’t feel quite complete. I’ve refined the story in places and by using the Banksia pods, which work very well as puppets, it now feels more complete. I also felt it was a good winter stoy, the going down into the earth. In winter the life forces are drawn down into the earth.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br />
</span></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So I hope these thoughts might be helpful for you. Enjoy your story telling. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></i></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left: 36.0pt;"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Sandra Busch</span><o:p></o:p></i></div>Lavendilly Househttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15641636643763496568noreply@blogger.com0