Jack’s Present

This is a revised Christmas story written a few years ago.

Jack’s Present

Emily’s mum had helped her stir the special ingredients of oats and sparkling gold glitter and measured them into 15 envelopes.
On the front of each envelope were the instructions:

‘Sprinkle this reindeer food outside tonight.
The moonlight will make it sparkle bright.

Millie as a puppy

As the reindeer fly and roam,
this will guide them to your home.’

Emily had signed each one ‘Love Emily’.
She proudly gave them to her friends at Day Care.
Jack put his away safely.

Jack and his brother, Mackenzie, watched Mum pack their case. Jack made sure that his envelope from Emily was in his bag. They were driving to their grandparents and Millie’s house for Christmas. Santa must know where to find them.

Christmas Eve, Jack and Mackenzie left out a bottle of beer and some biscuits for Santa. Then they sprinkled Jack’s reindeer food outside before hopping into bed to have a story.

Whilst the children slept, Millie, the puppy, thought the reindeer food was put out in the courtyard for her, so she ate it all up.

Luckily Santa still managed to find his way.

The next morning Jack and Mackenzie discovered their bulging stockings and ran to show their parents.

Everyone decided to take Millie for her walk before breakfast.

They had to wait while she searched for a special spot under a callistemon tree.

‘How come Millie’s poo is glittering?’ asked Jack.

‘Wow, you’re right,’ chuckled Grandpa, as he scooped it into a bag.

‘It’s her way of wishing everyone a happy Christmas!’

Mackenzie laughed. ‘Millie’s a clever dog!’

‘What a treat! But remember, my treasures,

all that glitters is not gold!’ said Grandpa.

Mackenzie and Jack

Inspiration:

An original photo of Christopher Robin and Pooh Bear sent to me on the Internet. It is not a surprise that this boy inspired the Pooh Bear books. He looks totally absorbed in his bear.

These are two of my inspirations: Millie and Jack.

Re-write: ‘Milly, Molly and Mary’

Having received my two manuscripts back from the editor, I quickly did some changes to this children’s story below. I hope you like the changes.

Millie, Molly and Mary Barbara Pyett © 2014

3/4

Millie, Molly and Mary, are three chooks who live at a dairy.

They cluck for some corn, as cows moo with a yawn.

Cats meow in the sun, as dogs bark for fun.

Millie is dainty, her comb is quite painty,

Molly is plump and feels like a frump,

Mary’s feathers are sleek, but she’s rather meek.

5/6

One night, they roost, sound asleep on the Ute,

expecting to be there ‘till morning.

That night Farmer Brown drives into the town.

To his great surprise, his mates soon advise

And point to the chooks on his fender.

No time for a bender, a change of agenda.

Instead, he drives home to Brenda.

7/8

When the cock gives a crow, they belatedly know,

Their night ride can’t hide,

their feathers askew, it had to accrue

to censure their own misadventure.

They hop off the Ute; Farmer Brown gives a hoot,

and concedes the chooks need a feed,

before milking his cows that are waiting by now.

9/10

Next night as they sleep, a slinky fox creeps.

The dog makes a growl; the cat gives a yowl.

Farmer Brown wakes from sleep, leaves his bed with a leap.

Scares the fox from the barn that runs far from the farm.

11/12

Another night, they huddle in fright.

Thunder and light make them want to take flight.

Drumming hail sees them pale as they shake on the bale.

Eggs scarce for a while, warrants no smile.

13/14

The cows moo outside with nowhere to hide.

Cats yowl in the house and hide with the mouse.

Dogs growl in the shed, wait to be fed.

15/16

Peace reins on the farm, hens cluck in the barn,

Lay eggs, one, two and three for farmer Brown’s tea.

They cluck for some corn, as cows moo with a yawn.

Cats meow in the sun as dogs bark for fun.

No longer wary, they visit the dairy.

No longer flappy, they are so happy.

Farmer Brown appears with a smile ear to ear,

his grin doesn’t vary when he spies Millie, Molly and Mary.

 

Whether there will more more changes, who knows? I am now absorbed in ‘Enduring Threads’ and loving having the opportunity of seeing it with fresh eyes. Thanks to Sophia Barnes for her patience and expertise, it was well worth while having a professional editor go through and see the story with a detached perspective.

 

 

 

Another picture book to be:

Millie, Molly and Mary Barbara Pyett © 2014

( At present, I’ve not kept the rhythm ordered. This text is before a visit to an editor, shall see how it evolves after the visit.)

3/4

Millie, Molly and Mary, are three chooks who live at a dairy.

They cluck for some corn, as cows moo with a yawn.

Cats meow in the sun, as dogs bark for fun.

 

5/6

One night, they roost, sound asleep on the Ute,

expecting to be there ‘till morning.

That night Farmer Brown drives into the town.

To his great surprise, his mates soon advise

And point to the chooks on his fender.

No time for a bender, a change of agenda.

Amender, he drives home to Brenda.

 

7/8

When the cock gives a crow, they belatedly know,

Their night ride can’t hide,

their feathers askew, it had to accrue

to dementia, or their own misadventure.

 

They hop off the Ute; Farmer Brown gives a hoot,

and concedes the chooks need a feed,

before milking his cows that are waiting by now.

 

9/10

Next night as they sleep, a slinky fox creeps.

The dog makes a growl; the cat gives a yowl.

Farmer Brown wakes from sleep leaves his bed with a leap.

Scares the fox from the barn that runs far from the farm.

 

11/12

Again next night, they huddle in fright.

Thunder and light make them want to take flight.

Drumming hail sees them pale as they shake on the bale.

Eggs scarce for a while, warrants no smile.

 

13/14

The cows moo outside with no- where to hide.

Cats yowl in the house and hide with the mouse.

Dogs growl in the shed, wait to be fed.

 

15/16

Peace reins on the farm, hens cluck in the barn,

Lay eggs, one, two and three for farmer Brown’s tea.

They cluck for some corn, as cows moo with a yawn.

Cats meow in the sun as dogs bark for fun.

 

No longer wary, they visit the dairy.

They’re no longer flappy, now they are happy.

Farmer Brown may appear with a smile ear to ear,

his grin doesn’t vary when he sees Millie, Molly and Mary.

 

‘Millie, Molly and Mary’ is a children’s farmyard story picture book for the young at heart. The play with language will both increase a child’s vocabulary as well as entertain the adult reading the story.

Illustration scares me:

This timely prompt has given me a nudge. Illustrating some of my children’s stories has been something I keep putting on the back burner. I am embarrassed to say that my attempts are so pathetic; I lose confidence that I can do it. In reality it is just a matter of practicing daily. It’s a bit like my love/hate affair with the computer.

Here is one example of a book I attempted to illustrate some time ago. It is done with collage, crayon and ink. I do not need your critique, as I know it is crap. This is just to show you why I hesitate to even begin again:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I know I can do better!

Is there something you’ve wanted to do but never got around to starting (an activity, a hobby, or anything else, really)? Tell us about what’s keeping you from doing it?

(Thanks, Rocky, for inspiring today’s prompt!) Ben Huberman

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/back-of-the-queue/

Fenella the duck: another picture book to be

Fenella the Duck   Barbara Pyett © 2013

Singing along to their favourite song, the car suddenly stops.                                                      ‘Oh no!’ Dad says. ‘We’ve run over a duck!’                                                                                       He got out and moved the mother duck to the side of the road.

A little duckling stood all alone.                                                                                                      ‘Can we take it home?’ chorused the children.

‘Remember we live in an apartment upstairs; we cannot possibly look after a duckling,’ Mum replies.                                                                                                                                               ‘We can’t leave it here, it will get run over and die!’

‘Well,’ said Dad, ‘I guess the best thing we can do is to take it to a park where there is a pond with other ducks. Maybe they will adopt this poor little orphan.’                                                  ‘We can come back another day to see how it is getting along.’

The children decide to call the duckling Fenella. They really don’t want to leave her, but it is a beautiful park and there are lots of other ducks.

When the family comes back to visit Fenella, Will says,                                                                  ‘Oh how sad, she is all alone!’

‘I don’t think the other ducks want anything to do with her,’ says Hazel.                                     Finn remembered to bring some duck food.

They have tears in their eyes when they have to leave.

Fenella hides amongst the kangaroo grass and the Acacias, below a large sculpture. She has to learn to find food for herself.

When Fenella waddles up to the café in the park she is shooed away, because the café staff don’t want her messing on the patio. At weekends, when Joan is on duty, she sends children down to the lake with breadcrumbs. Watching the other ducks Fenella soon learns to scavenge for food herself.

Sometimes at night Fenella is very scared. There are foxes that roam the park. She swims out to the island in the lake. The other ducks are less scary than the foxes! She hides, hoping that the other ducks will not peck her.

Fenella spends her days scratching in the mud finding her food. She is unaware that she is getting bigger. She loves it when children visit the park and throw breadcrumbs. It reminds her of the family that brought her here.

Fenella is no longer shy and her sleek coat of white feathers is mirrored in the lake as she swims. ‘Wow, she looks big’, cries Will. (pictured: Hazel and Finn pointing showing their parents, when they arrive back in spring).

‘Look at Fenella swimming with that handsome drake.’                                                             ‘She’s followed by a clutch of little ducklings,’ says Dad.                                                             ‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ says Mum                                                                                                  ‘Let’s count them together, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.’

‘’I think the drake looks like Frederick, ‘ says William.                                                                      ‘I’m going to name the ducklings then too,’ says Hazel.

‘We can name three each, because 3×3=9.’

‘OK, my turn, says Hazel, ‘what about: Eloise, Aurelia and Flynn?                                             ‘Good,’ says Will, ‘my three can be: Sonny, Rory and Jack.’

‘Your turn Finn,’ they shout together.                                                                                                ‘I’ll call them: Tove, Ty and Mackie.’

They all watch as the ducks swim around in circles with the ducklings paddling hard to keep up. It’s good to know that Fenella won’t be lonely anymore, now that she has such a large family!’ says Jack.

‘That’s great,’ says Dad as he packs up the picnic, ‘let’s go for a walk and look at the other sculptures, before we say goodbye and go home.’

The end

This story was written after we’d been caretakers at McClelland Gallery in Langwarrin Victoria, Australia.  A duckling was brought to the gallery’s lake, which inspired this story. After completion, I thought it was a bit like ‘The Ugly Duckling’, but hopefully it is different enough to stand on its own.

A work in progress:

Staying with Grandma and Grandpa ( to be a picture book with poetry)

Grandma has eyes with drooping lids,

but she can see any naughty kids.

Her hair is fading with the sun,

all tied up in a plaited bun.

She likes to garden as we play,

kneeling beside a fuchsia spray.

The garden is our great delight,

where blue tongue lizards hide in fright.

Grandpa’s chin is a prickly one,

we walk each day so he’s not glum.

His glasses fog when rain pours down,

he doesn’t mind a shiny crown.

When we stay at our grandparent’s place,

Grandpa takes us to a playground space.

We walk and talk till Millie the dog,

barks for her tea, then home we jog.

Playing ‘Hats’ is a game we like,

if Grandma loses she hates her plight.

Grandpa teaches us many odd words

learning new things we’re undeterred.

We like hitting the tennis ball,

though Millie tries to stop it fall.

She chases it and does not tire,

we just give up and we retire.

Hide and seek is another game,

creepings up is a bit more tame.

Finding Grandma beneath the stair,

we always know she hides in there.

Grandma cooks our favourite food,

off to bed in such a good mood.

Showered, cleaned and stories read,

ready for sleep, tucked up in bed.

Possums fighting and crickets shriek,

Millie barks ‘till she falls asleep.

Imagine oceans, oh so breezy,

drifting off is easy peasy.

Next morning we discuss our dreams,

nightmares sometimes have made us scream.

In the morning they’re not so bad,

our Grandparents’ dreams are never sad.

‘Remember to control your dreams,

face your demon, he’ll stop midstream.

Your dreams become a place for friends

you’re in charge and your thoughts transcend.’

Grandma and Grandpa both agree,

their advice is for you and me.

Remember good things as you play,

and give thanks for them every day.

 

 

Another Children’s story ready for illustration:

Willy Wally Wagtail and Rainbow  Written by Barbara Pyett © 2013

 Have you ever seen a willy wagtail? 

He’s a sporty, black backed and white chested little bird that never stops long in one place. He cocks his head on one side to look at you.

 Our Willy Wally wagtail lives in a clearing with lots of other birds and animals.

‘Why does everyone look so sad?’ he wondered as he looked at his animal friends through the gloom. No longer did he see his friend Sun or Rainbow coming to visit.

 Willy Wally hopped about trying to cheer his friends up, but it

wasn’t working and he was beginning to feel sad too.

 That night Will Wally had the most beautiful dream, full of sunshine and light. When he woke-up he realized he must make a plan to bring light back into the clearing. Those trees must be trimmed back. Perhaps echidna could lend him some prickles to help pin the branches back.

 Echidna was a slow, tired ball of prickles. After explaining his plan to lighten their clearing Willy Wally asked,

‘Have you any spare spines, to pin back the trees?’

 ‘I think that would be most unwise as I don’t think I’d be able to grow any more. Also, I might catch cold!’ echidna cautiously added.

 ‘I shall just have to think of something else,’ said Willy Wally.

 ‘Here comes possum, I’ll ask her.’

‘Possum, could you help trim the trees back with your nice sharp teeth?’

‘I’m much too busy eating bush tucker! If you have any sweet fruit I’d be only too happy to help,’ said possum.

 Rabbits hopped about, but just kept disappearing into their many burrows, so he couldn’t ask them.

 Willy Wally thought some more. There must be an answer.

‘What about Rainbow, I’ll ask her for help.’

 Waiting for the rain seemed to take ages.  A raindrop fell on his head.  Willy Wally flew up to whisper his request to Rainbow, hoping he wouldn’t be refused again.

 ‘Please can you help us Rainbow? The sun isn’t getting into our clearing and we are all getting sad because it is so dark.  Could you come and help lift the branches so that we can trim the branches and leaves to let the light through?’

 Rainbow beamed, ‘I’d love to help! You can use me as a ladder so that when I hold the branches up, you can all trim away, and that should make a big difference. I’ll show you!’

 A meeting was held with all of the bush animals, birds and insects.

Everyone wanted to help, even echidna and possum, as they could see what a good idea it was. As Rainbow pushed with all her might the sun shone through the opening.

 Rainbow called, ‘You will have to work quickly as I can’t stay long!’

 The clearing was set in motion as everyone worked quickly, trimming the willing branches while Rainbow held them in position.

The bush buzzed with activity and excitement, surrounded by singing noises and gnawing and sawing.

 As they completed the task Venus shone in the evening sky.

 The next day as the sun came up the animals decided to do something to show Rainbow how grateful they were for her help.

Rainbow’s colours were faded after such a long stay in one spot.

‘We’ll make lotions and potions to paint and revive your colours,’ they all chorused.

 ‘We’ll paint purple from the wild orchids,’ said the rabbits as they scampered and hopped up Rainbow’s bow.

 ‘We’re next,’ said the birds as they splashed red raspberry juice into the red section. Possums dribbled orange into the next part.

 ‘We’ll prepare yellow,’ said the bees as they busied themselves soaking the yellow section with honey.

 ‘We’ll make green for you to paint,’ said the ants crushing grass juice for the wallabies to apply.

 The smell of eucalyptus filled the air as the koalas added their blue-green potion made from the cut off gum leaves.

 Blue melted into purple from the wild flowers and berries, crushed by the rabbits, which hopped      amongst the slow wombats and echidnas.

 ‘My colours are brighter than they were before!’ Rainbow beamed.

 All of the animals, insects and birds stood around in the now sunny

clearing, encircling Rainbow, as Willy Wally sat on top of the bow with his head cocked to one side, admiring his friend’s smiling faces. Willy Wally slid down the bow feeling warm inside.

 Everyone spontaneously began to sing a thank you song to Rainbow. The trees clapped their leaves in time, feeling lighter after their trim.

 Rainbow thanked the bush creatures and melted away to rest awhile, until she was needed after another shower of rain, to brighten another grey day.

The end

Short Synopsis:

This story is written as a picture book; to not only show how things are better when we cooperate with one another, but it will also help young children learn their colours.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

‘Hats’ © 2013 Barbara Pyett

Christopher Pyett, painting,  (detail) Symphonic Poem No.1 (2013)

Hats

Barbara Pyett © 2013

 3/4

When I grow up what shall I be?

5/6

When I grow up I’ll be a builder,

work with my best friend Matilda.

Build houses to survive a flood,

from straw and wood and brick and mud

Solar heated, triple glazed,

warm as toast on freezing days.

7/8

Being a princess would be hard,

n’er alone on my promenade.

I’d wear jewels and crowns of gold

always doing what I was told.

My gowns too grand to stay outside

and play upon the slippery slide.

9/10

When I grow up I’ll be a baker,

sausage rolls and croissant maker.

Cream puffs, pastries, breads the lot,

the smells will waft and wake the block.

Cooking through the night till dawn,

draw joggers in the early morn.

11/12

When I grow up I want to be

a vet just like my Auntie Fi.

Helping young ones to be born,

heal animals of every form.

Wombats, possums, lizards and cats,

large or small dogs and even rats!

13/14

When I grow up I’ll go to sea,

a captain’s hat’s the one for me.

Some waves will gently rock my bed,

as I wearily rest my head.

Loading cargo and people too,

never dull, as it’s always new.

15/16

Gardening is the job for me,

planting flowers for all to see.

Adults watch whilst children play,

gardens blooming in full array.

Running children fly their kites,

dogs chasing them with great delight.

17/18

When I grow up I’d like to be,

working with children just like me.

A doctor, nurse or someone kind.

bring joy to the sick, so sublime.

Wearing a hat upon my head,

to bring some smiles to those in bed.

19/20

When I grow up I’d like to wear,

an Apiarist’s hat, oh so square!

I’d hide behind a well-sealed suit,

the smoke would make the bees quite mute.

From the hive I’d take the honey,

after eating, make some money.

21/22

Cousin Susan is a teacher,

dressing- up is quite a feature.

It sounds like fun to sing and play,

with Kindy children every day.

I could wear an outrageous hat,

keeping the sun off, slip, slop, slap!

23/24

Catching fish is a dream of mine,

waking early rainy or fine.

A beany borne to keep me warm,

trying to lure illusive prawns.

Arriving home with lots of fish,

we’d never have an empty dish.

25/26

What about a farmer’s life?

Much fresh air and free from strife.

Then I’d wear all kinds of hats,

suiting weathers, that’s a fact.

Sometimes out in frost or rain,

blistering heat I’d harvest grain.

27/28

What about a lawyer’s wig?

Do you think I’d look a prig?

Dressing up to play the part,

arguing justly to outsmart,

Convince a jury of a crime,

judge declares, ‘it’s worth a fine!’

29/30

A cricketers’ life would be fun,

play outside in the mid-day sun.

Bowling a googly with such grace,

the baggy green in pride of place.

Travelling far with the Aussie team,

would develop my self-esteem.

31/32

 Playing Hats:

Playing hats is a game to play when drying the dishes or going for a ride in the car.  This will encourage conversation and learning.

Each person takes a turn saying the name of a different hat.

• Repetition is not allowed.
• The game continues until you run out of names of hats.

Some hints for finding names; think of hats being worn from different:

Careers, sports, religions, safety helmets, dressing up, history, leisure activities and most importantly the myriad of hats from different cultures.

• I envisage this poem illustrated with people wearing hats in different work settings. On the inside covers a multitude of different hats. It is written for children aged 5-8 years.
• This book ends with an exciting game of Hats that encourages discussion; brings awareness of different cultures and career paths, at the same time expanding vocabulary.

 I would be grateful for any feedback from those of you who have children in your lives.  How did playing hats entertain your children? Poetry is another area for me to explore.  A  book recommended is, ‘The Ode Less Travelled: Unlocking the Poet Within.’ by Stephen Fry.