H -- Hummingbird Races

Thumbelina's schedule is getting packed pretty tightly.

From just before dawn until just after noon, there's a lot of chores to do.  That's not to say, fairies don't have fun along the way.  The grove just wouldn't be as good unless all the chores got done.  As they put it, "Our work makes the grove abound."

Now, for me, if you're using the word 'abound' there's got to be something else.  Abound in chocolate, for instance.  Abound in laughter.  Maybe even Abound in sunshine.

Not for them.

Abound conveys exactly what the fairy world wants to say.  Plain.  On its own.

So, we make the grove abound all morning. We used to nap or just hang around talking for the hottest part of the day.  Not any more.  There's training, now, all afternoon.  After training, there are practices for midsummer eve.  (This is not the solstice, by the way.  It's the high temperature day of summer -- usually in July or August.)  Then, once practices are done, a few evening and twilight chores are finished before fairies curl up to sleep.

So, I assumed the midsummer celebration was going to be nothing but a talent show.  Apparently there's much more to it.

There will be races of all kinds.  Nimbleness contests.  Formation flights.  Probably a lot more, too.

Thumbelina is going to be in the hummingbird races.  Not riding a humming bird.  Racing against them.  Five fairies and five hummingbirds will hover in a line over the meadow.  Then, in straight-line flight -- no tricks needed -- they zoom to the border of the next grove, circle the entire perimeter of this grove, and whoever comes back to the center point first wins the primacy of speed award.  Humming birds want this because it means the fairies have to devote an entire flock of fairies to the enhancement of nectar in the blooms the humming birds specify.  Fairies want this award because it means the humming birds have to devote five mated pairs of birds to ventilation of certain home tree chambers.  (I wanted to ask which chambers, and what better ventilation does for them, but Thumbelina was too busy to answer many questions today.)

Training for humming bird races is intense.  I just held a snapdragon filled with dew for Thumbelina for each time she made a lap around the home tree.  Eventually, her laps will expand to include different markers.  This week, though, she's drawing strength from the tree itself to give her a boost in her endurance.

She really needs the dew in the snap dragon.

By the time she has raced one lap, she's pretty dehydrated.  I don't think anyone ever told Thumbelina about pacing herself.  The four other fairies training with her always come in several seconds behind.

I predict by the end of the week, Thumbelina will be able to lap all of them.

Why does that make me proud?  I only hold her dewy flower.  I really have nothing to do with her amazing speed.  All I can say is being part of anybody's winning team -- even an itty bitty part of it -- is a thrill.

Do other groves care so deeply about their summer games?  It's like Olympic training around here.  Every fairy is preparing for something important.  There won't be cameras and long interviews with the winners.  Still, winning contests will do important things for the fairies in this grove.  Maybe Thumbelina is wishing she could compete on behalf of her home grove.  I'm starting to feel even more guilty for throwing a fit and making her leave.

I sort of wish I could come back and watch when Thumbelina finally competes.

-- Sabrina

I'm too tired to say much today.  I'm just really grateful for the extra-full snap dragon Sabrina gives me when I need it.  This year is the first time anyone offered to help with my training.  I think the extra energy is why I'm so much faster.  It's good to have a friend.


May your snap dragon always slurp deliciously.


-- Fresh

I -- Incredible

There are so many "I" words to choose from today.

Invigorating
Interesting
Impressive
Important
Illuminating
Irritating
Imbecilic
Impolite

I had my second conversation with the queen.  From the first meeting, I had no idea she ever got out and did any normal fairy work.  I had this impression of her sitting there inside the tree, giving orders and being waited on like Queen Elizabeth.  Well, that's not exactly right.  The queen of England does a lot of work all over the world.  Maybe I assumed the fairy queen was more like a queen bee.  She has wings, after all.

I was helping Thumbelina with the daily flower opening.  There's no rushing that job.  You open them in the right order for the day of the year and the needs of the different animals that use them.  I'm getting so much patience from doing this job every day, I'll probably never yell at anyone in traffic again.  As I worked on a patch of morning glories, I ran into the queen.

More specifically, I backed into the queen.  Bum to bum.  We bumped.

It was a little awkward.

But the queen just chuckled about it.  She doesn't seem to be the kind of lady who gets riled too easily.

Being a writer, I had billions of questions to ask her.  She was available.  The work was easy.  She seemed quite happy to talk.  I learned all kinds of things about her lifetime, the reasons she became queen, and how she manages the administration of a grove of diverse fairies.  That conversation, in itself, would be an encyclopedia-sized piece of work.  A queen fairy is able to convey a lot more information than just through words.  I could actually see what she was talking about as she said it.

Sorry, I'm not going to write that encyclopedia.  Just my blog.

I was really impressed when the queen told me that she considers every fairy in her grove a queen in training.  That's an unusual attitude -- especially for me.  I'm used to the work place where top dog is the only top dog.  End of story.

The queen said, "Any one of my ladies could easily be trained to replace me."

Being an idiot (another good "I" word) I tossed off the comment, "Oh, I guess anyone can become pudgy and sweet if they wait long enough."

Thumbelina looked at me as if I had just sprouted a horn in the middle of my forehead.

There are moments in life when you wish your words were a long string extending from your mouth, and you could chase down the worst of them, snip them off with scissors before they reached anyone's ears, and stuff them deep in the nastiest corner of a trash can, to decompose with the worst of the garbage.

That was the kind of moment I was having.

Did I just insult the queen twice in one sentence -- or was it three times?

The queen wasn't even offended.  

She chuckled the way she had when we bumped into each other.  "Well, my ladies can be any shape they like.  Each has such potential to make a difference in the world.  I was just expressing my admiration."

I stood corrected.

I wanted to evaporate the way Thumbelina does when she's working under water.

I quickly agreed that the fairies I had met seemed to be capable, intelligent, and hard-working.  What I really wanted to say to the queen was that I admired her more than any other person I had met, and couldn't believe my own stupidity, sometimes.  Groveling is such an awful idea, though.

I found an excuse to flower-fly somewhere else.

I'm just going to curl up and die of shame.

-- Sabrina

Poor thing.  She doesn't know that her comment was no insult at all.  Plump or slim makes no difference to us.  If we show ourselves to humans, we usually chose a form they find pleasing, and in the last few hundred years, that has been a slim type shape.  Among ourselves though, a fairies size just is.  That's all.  You are what you are if you're a fairy.  Saying the queen was plump and sweet was like saying a morning glory is round and white.  It's just the truth.  And saying anyone could be queen was only echoing the sentiments of the queen herself.


Thinking like a human must be limiting.  Trying to watch your manners all the time must also get tiring.  It's adorable that Sabrina wants so badly to keep on everyone's good side.  She tries to hard at it.  Just wears herself out.  Maybe by the end of her vacation she'll realize that good sides are all we fairies have.  


We're happy to like her.  Even when people laughed at her singing, they still liked her.


Being embarrassed.  It's got to really hurt.  I'll see what I can do to cheer Sabrina up.


May your morning glory glow magnificently.


-- Fresh

J -- Jeans

I did get my field trip to the caves under ground.  Surprisingly enough, we went inside dressed as normal twenty-something humans.  Human size too, not fun size.

It was such a great feeling to put on jeans again.  My old green hoodie, my favorite pendant on a leather string around my neck, and my cell phone tucked in a back pocket.  It was abnormal to feel so normal.

I let Thumbelina borrow some clothes, too.

I asked her, "Why can't we fly?  We could zip around in there like bats."

"Because of the bats already in there.  We'd get in their way, and they'd get in ours."

"Don't you have echolocation?"

"No, and the bats couldn't bounce sound off a fairy even if they tried.  You're safe in your normal human form.  I'm only safe where your clothing covers my body.  That's why I needed a hoodie like yours.  A real one.  Made of fibers.  That way the bats won't bonk into me."

"Are fairies made that differently from humans?" I asked.

"Duh."

Well, a fairy is at least built of the same kind of sarcasm I 'm used to.  This whole vacation has been one reminder after another that fairies are built of some different kind of matter than me.  Sarcasm is the one thing we truly share.

"Let's go," I said, and switched on my flashlight.

I had kept a ton of things in the trunk of my car when I signed on for this dream vacation.  I didn't know if I would need camping gear or special clothing, so I packed a little of everything.  Flashlights were included -- including one arranged as a headlamp.  Now, I wish I had bought two.

I realized there was a black light on the hand-held flashlight I handed Thumbelina.  So, just when we got to the dark part of the cave, I switched off my headlamp, and asked Thumbelina to turn off the flashlight I had given her.  I switched it to the black light.  I had to get a better look at the ultraviolet make up I heard so much about on queen presentation day.  No matter where I looked, there were swirls and dots.  Flowers, leaves, trees, slashing lines.  Sort of a Disney meets surfboard designer effect.  It covered every inch of exposed skin.  Thumbelina's make up wasn't as busy-looking.  She probably didn't have as many people working on her when it was applied.  For all I know, she had to do the whole thing herself.  Her skin had swaths of ultraviolet alternating with cross-hatching and diagonal stripes.  It was strictly designs -- nothing representational there.  I was impressed, though.

"We both look so awesome," I said.

"Yeah, about that . . . " Thumbelina said.  "You will always have ultraviolet glowing on you -- even after you go back home."

This took a second to sink in.

"What?"

"Fairy make up is permanent.  Like really permanent.  Lifelong permanent."

"You mean I will be glowing my way through any haunted house I go to from now until I die?"  I was a little stunned.  Ok.  More than a little.  I was blown completely away.

"Yes.  It's in your contract, you know."

I turned the flashlight to it's full white beam -- the extra brilliant super nova setting -- and shone it right in Thumbelina's face.  "I didn't see any 'permanent UV' clause."

"It was part of the 'life changing' experiences paragraph."

"That paragraph was totally vague."

"Well, I was going to mention that there are options to modify the deigns.  Your skin has to be covered by the same amount of ultra violet, but it could be repositioned if you wanted it to be mostly in areas under your clothing."

I was starting to get used to the idea of being UV enhanced.  "Well, I have to check the face designs before I make any kind of decision, don't I?"

My make-up kit was back in the trunk of my car.  I stormed out of the cave, and found a little mirror.

Back under ground, I finally saw the ultraviolet makeup on my face.  What can I say?  Only the queen had a better set of designs.  Thumbelina's work on my eyes had so much delicacy, I wanted to take a photo and post it online right then and there.

Thumbelina was a little on edge.  "Well, how do you like it?"

"It's the best make up I've ever seen."

"Do you think you'll want to move some of your make up to less visible areas?"

I honestly didn't know about that.  I told Thumbelina I'd decide later.  So, switching off my UV flashlight, I got the normal light on from all the flashlights.

I told her,   "You're just lucky I think the designs everyone made are pretty -- otherwise there'd be a lawsuit.  The first cross-species lawsuit in the history of the planet."

I put my mirror into the pocket of my hoodie.  Then we had our tour.

The cave is so much cooler when seen with a fairy.  She knows the whole story.  Or at least, Thumbelina knew about two hundred years of the story from first-hand experience.  But she was aware of a lot more history because she listened to lots of stories when she was younger.

A flood that came right before a deep, hard freeze made the huge crack running all the way to the surface.  From that crack, ran a continual ooze of water -- down and around the sides of the cave and into a pool.  A single stalactite  hanging at the edge of the little pool dripped down -- maybe once a minute.  It had gone at that rate on dry days for the last seven hundred years at least.

The pool was home to a ton of critters that Thumbelina could see with no problems due to her expanded vision.  When I shone my UV light on the pool, I wanted to catch my breath.  There was just so much going on in there.

"Can we shrink down, and see these guys closer up?" I asked.

Thumbelina looked doubtful.  "I thought you didn't like going much lower than fun size."

"For this kind of show, I'd go microscopic," I answered.

"Well, there won't be any bats in the water.  I don't know of any humans in the cave or even within a mile of here," Thumbelina said.  She still hesitated.

"Is it against some rule for me to do this/"  I didn't want to get her in trouble.

"Not any rule I know about.  It's just not part of the original plan I discussed with the queen."

"Do we need to go back to get permission?"

Deep down, I really like rules.  I think most of them have solid reasoning behind them.  Being new to the whole fairy world, I didn't want to break any big taboos.  I also didn't want to get Thumbelina in trouble.  I was really starting to like her -- and that's only partly because of the sweet work on my eye makeup.

Thumbelina considered a second.  "Why don't we shrink to fly-size?  Then we can swim around without getting eaten by most of the critters in there."

"There aren't any fish?" I asked.

"Not the last time I checked.  We're pretty deep."

"Then, let's go!"

We had to take off my outfits and fold them neatly.  Then, unfurling wings, and hovering briefly over the pool, we shrunk to a size just below the common house fly.  Dipping into the water, I was glad my black light was still shining on the pool.  To swim among critters like this would have been terrifying if I couldn't see where they were.

Long millipede guys scuttled across the bottom of the pool.  Bubble bodied tiny guys with long antennae sort of floated wherever they wanted.  Things that looked like insects.  Things that looked like blobs.  Big and small and round or pointy.  There was so much living in that water, I wasn't sure I would ever think the same way about water that's marketed as "Mountain Pure."

Even if I wanted to speak under water, I couldn't.  Still too much like a human.

Thumbelina filled me in on fairy names for all the types.  She even knew the latin names in human language for four or five.  She showed me how to properly greet the biggest types (the millipedes, and a couple of bettle-like critters.)  Then, she told me about their lives.

It was so much better than hearing about life cycles.  She knew which individuals hatched in this pool and which had to crawl for many meters to get here.  She knew how often there were mass migrations, and why. She also knew which animals irritated the bejeebers out of each other, and how the fairies helped them get along.  It was like going to a cocktail party where accountants mingled with hard rock bands and fast food workers, apparently, if you wanted to live in that pool.  Different hours of activity.  Different goals.  Different ways of making a living.  Different attitudes.  There was an amazing amount of drama in that pool -- and in human meansurements, the thing was only three or four feet across.  I wouldn't have even gotten the tops of my shoes wet if I had stepped in as a human wearing my hiking boots.

Fairies ought to bring their brand of education to the science departments of this world.

We spent maybe an hour schmoozing with the locals in the pool.

Once we grew again, I'm the only one who had to dry off.  Human trait, that getting wet stuff.  It can be irritating to be limited like that.

Thumbelina and I put my clothes back on.

We visited the bats.  I got a bewildering life history of the entire colony.  My brain, by that point was too fried from hearing about he underwater bugs.  I only halfway listened about the bats' lives.

We saw tiny passages we could only navigate at sizes smaller than a mouse.  We stayed big and human-shaped, but Thumbelina explained what routes each one took, and the bearing it had on temperatures and what it did for migrations.  She explained each color of limestone formation not in scientific terms, but artistic words.  I loved it.

To say I was overwhelmed would be putting it mildly.

I spent the whole day in the cave, seeing the life forms, rocks and water in the same way a fairy sees them.

My contract mentioned 'life-changing experiences.'

I just had another one.

-- Sabrina

She went right to sleep after we exited the caves.  I actually let her sleep in her car -- still in human form.  I thought she was getting too dazzled by new thoughts, and her brain might need the extra space to make sense of it all.  She was snoring before I even tucked the last shoe into the plastic bags she had in her trunk.


Pretty good day for me too.


May your rhododendron rock your world.


-- Fresh

K -- Karst

The area all around my new grove is a karst landscape.  Thumbelina knows this because a geology professor took a bunch of students underground to study formations, but also pointed out features above ground.  He said, "This entire area is a karst landscape."

At the time, Thumbelina had been riding (invisibly) on the shoulder of a bookish young man.  She thought that term sounded mildly insulting, so she morphed into the form of another young man who had gone to the outhouse, and asked, "What does 'karst' mean?"

"It's simply a description of places where limestone rock beneath the soil produces some predictable formations.  All around us, we'll find springs, sink holes, and other evidence of the interaction of water with rock.  When we explore a little below ground, we'll find caves that were formed by water erosion -- maybe a few stalactites and stalagmites.  Karst just means limestone plays a key role in the way the land is arranged."

Thumbelina had wanted to say, "Well it's a stupid word to choose.  How about something with a little drama to it?  Like Water and Land Entwined?"

Being in the form of a boy who rarely asked questions, though, Thumbelina knew well enough to keep quiet. She also had to do a quick re-shuffle act when the kid came back from the latrine (otherwise known as the back side of a tree.)  Shuffling her way to the back of the group, she watched for him, and made sure to disappear before he saw himself.  What a sneak.  She still followed the geologist back to his campus and sat in on a few lectures.  Karst is the name of a place in Europe with a lot of limestone, and that's where the term came from.

She only found out one other thing for all the effort:  geologists just don't know how to spark drama in anything.

No wonder nobody wants to study geology, she concluded.

For the record:  I agree.  More people would study geology if the 7-year-olds of the world were allowed to name things.  "Volcano" was about the best word chosen for anything geologic, and I'm going to wager five Twix bars that it was named by a 7-year-old.

Now that I know about the limestone, though, I have a new idea.  Tomorrow I'm going to ask Thumbelina take me cave-flying -- or whatever else it is that fairies do around caves.  They either have chores there, or they have fun there.  I will probably like it, either way.

Can't wait.

-- Sabrina

I remember the geologist.  He was so satisfied knowing about the names of features, he never bothered to find out about interactions.  He was the same way with students.  He didn't know that Tiffany had a serious crush on Shawn, but thought since he was black there was no hope of a spark.  He didn't know that Sophia and Melanie had hated each other since 8th grade, and couldn't believe they were stuck on a field trip together.  Brent was aware of the feud, and did everything he could to make it worse, while Keisha tried to patch things up between the two.  If you knew what was at issue -- actually, a huge list of things at issue -- you'd really admire the pluck of that Keisha, by the way.


Same thing with the land.  He didn't care that a sink hole in one place meant more moss and a completely different group of plants and animals than on a rocky ridge where the limestone was exposed.  A sinking stream wasn't a portal into a different world (the underground world -- don't think I'm being crazy, here.)  To him, the sinking stream was just evidence of more porus rock which had been eroded unevenly.   For a guy who studies rock and water interactions, his insights were dry.  I had to leave college after a week so I wouldn't turn to dust and be swept off on a passing wind.


I've got to talk things over with the queen before taking Sabrina anywhere underground.  The actual Thumbelina was originally lost because of a wander below ground before she was old enough to handle it.


May your orchid's odor never outrage you.


-- Fresh

L -- Leotard

Do you ever wonder why fairies are usually shown dressing like little ballerinas?  I know.

First:  sizing issues.  The leotard they wear is not any kind of fabric.  It's a form-fitting energy shield that performs all the same functions as clothing.  It keeps them warm, and covers up skin.  It can expand with any size the fairy decides to take, morph to look different if a fairy decides to take the disguise of an old beggar woman, like you've read in the stories.  More recently, Thumbelina's leotard took the shape of my jeans and t-shirt ensemble.  It even added the perfect accessories I had worn on the day I met her -- the little sneak.

Next:  adaptability.  So, because it's made of energy, the zipping in and out of water really does nothing permanent to the shield.  It doesn't get wet -- just exists anywhere the fairy wants to take it.  That could be a trip to the moon or to the bottom of the ocean.  (I'm speculating here.  I don't know if there are deep ocean trench jobs for fairies or not.)  Anyway -- fairies can fly through fire if needed and their clothes won't burst into flames for the same reason -- they're not made of flammable fibers.

The flowing skirts are pretty.  I'll grant the fairies that.  But they don't actually wear them for their prettiness.  It's definitely a form follows function issue here.  Aerodynamics.  Having a little drag in the center of their bodies actually stabilizes the fairies as they fly.  Know how a bird will fan its wing feathers one way or another?  The fairy skirt does the same things.  Helps with steering.  Keeps a fairy from wobbling or veering unexpectedly off course with a stray breeze.  It's a necessary part of flying.  Sort of like a kite usually needs a tail.  I didn't realize it at first, when I was learning to fly, but the skirt reacts to my flying intentions just as naturally as the hawks feathers adjust to make diving possible.  Since fairies are female, they usually want their skirts to be lovely colors.  I don't blame them.  I like my green skirt.

FYI:  The fairy males also wear flowing outfits which stabilize their flight, but they opt for a more tailored look -- at least that 's what the gals around here said, when I asked.  I won't be a tourist in this grove the next time males return.

Hair often changes to match the outfit, and that's a much easier process for a fairy than a human.  I have to go to a salon for a major makeover.  Not them.  Hair?  They can change their style just by thinking up something new.  When I found that out, I got totally jealous.  They took a long time to puff up my hair for my meeting with the queen, and it may never actually recover.  After all, I'm still just a tiny human with a few predictable limitations.  Not only is it puffy now, it's a funky shade of lime green to match my skirt.  It will take a real expert to return me to normal at the end of the month.  If I could do any color or style like they do, I'd experiment with something new three times a day.

Actually, frequent hair make overs wouldn't be much problem, at least for recognizing me.  Now that I'm all marked up in ultraviolet, they'd still know who I am.   (The most permanent distinguishing feature on a fairy is her ultraviolet makeup designs.)


Even if you came to this grove, you couldn't see me.  If you did, though, you'd either think I was nuts for going along with the new look.  Or you'd want to try it yourself.  Just depends how adventurous you are.  When I get back, I'll see if one of my photo shop expert friends will make a portrait of how I looked this month.


Oh.  One last thing about the fairy leotard.  No wedgies.  Gotta love that.


-- Sabrina


I actually had to look up "wedgie."  It's not in the human dictionary.  An online slang dictionary described something pretty unpleasant.  Oh, the silly lengths humans will go to in their quest to be more like fairies.  How I pity them.


May your venus fly trap viciously trap flies.


-- Fresh

M -- Moss

When you're big, you walk right past the moss.  You might think, "Oh look.  Moss."  Or if you want to get extra close to nature, you might run a finger over the surface.

Fairies have a completely different outlook.

Moss is a major factor in a fairy's life.  If it's lush, they don't have much work to do because everything in the ecosystem is going to be getting enough water.  When the moss dries out, though, hold onto your wingtips.  Fairies go into hyper active mode.  They get help from neighboring groves.  Everyone works until the moss is better -- or dead.

Here's the other thing moss brings up:  time.  When I'm at home, I have to ask someone what day of the week it is, or what day of the month it is.  Fairies could care less about that.  They ask about the phases of the moon.  A fairy who's nearby will look at a little patch of moss (even if it's daytime) and answer with the fairy names for moon phases.  Based on that, everyone knows what the ought to be doing.

Between new moons, everything needs to get done, before the whole group in a grove will reset everything, and start their chores again -- adding in different ones as the seasons progress, they tell me.

If so many of the chores didn't involve water, I'd probably want to stay.  I'm getting too pickled to really enjoy being a fairy.  From xylem clearing to water plant chores, and rain channeling, there's always going to be some new chore to keep me pruney.

Going to bed in my miserable little rock nook, now.  Maybe I'll dry out a little over night.

Thumbelina says she has night chores.  I'm going to leave it all to her.

-- Sabrina

Moss is more important than even Sabrina thinks.  We get raw materials for dyes and makeup.  We need certain nutrients in moss for our health.  We love to relax on a mossy rock and contemplate -- also important for fairy health.  It's about as important to us as, say, furniture to humans.  Yes, we could survive without it.  Moss just makes everything in life more comfortable and convenient.


My night ops are mushroom duties.  Also an M word.  So appropriate.


May you moss stay moist.


-- Fresh


PS.  Technically, Sabrina posted a picture of lichens.  They're almost as important as mosses to fairies.  Just be informed of the differences.  Lichens are naturally drier, and live mostly on rocks.

N -- Newt

I went newt-riding today.

"Aren't they slimy?" you ask.

Yes, indeed they are.  When you're playing around with fairies, though, things don't seem all that bad if they're slimy.  Textures are just another fact of life -- a thing to know about and maybe enjoy.  So, we were playing (also working) down by a brook where newts live.  I was watching them catch bugs.

Thumbelina came up and said, "Newts are pretty fun to ride.  Want to try?"

There are a few attitudes I still need to get over.  Like, for me at home, it's all about how fast I can travel.  I'd rather drive to a friend's house than walk.  I'd rather fly to New York than drive.  So, for a person who just got fairy wings, and is getting really fast with these babies, I couldn't see any advantage in riding a newt.  Wings are awesome.

So, being as open-minded as possible, I just asked a question.  (I do call her Fresh when speaking to her face.  It bugs her a little to hear the word Thumbelina out loud.  I'll keep writing about her as Thumbelina, because I can't help thinking she looks exactly like the Thumbleina illustration from my story book as a little girl.)

"Why do you like riding a newt, Fresh?"  I asked, ready to hear anything.

"Because they're slimy."

"What's fun about a slimy ride?"

"Come and find out," Thumbelina said, with an impish grin.

So, we dove into the brook, scaring the newts out of their little newt-wits.  We held really still for a while, though, until they calmed down.  Pretty soon, the newts were swimming around us, under our legs, all over the brook, and ignoring us completely.  Thumbelina showed me how to catch a bug and dangle it down at knee level.  We both did this, and as luck would have it two newts who could have been twins came swimming along.  They went between our legs at about the same moment.  Thumbelina gave me the signal.

"Now!" she said.

I couldn't say anything back, because as you already know, we were under water.  I'm still human.  I don't know if I was modified enough to allow for under water speech, and I was too busy thinking about newts to try it out.

This is a newt

We wrapped arms and legs around our little newt friends.

They were so startled, they acted like they were fired from a rocket.

It was a hilarious, wet and slimy ride.  As you might expect, Thumbelina stayed on a lot longer than I did.  I got swirled to the side and cracked my head against a tree root.  Not enough to really hurt.  I just got dizzy for a second.  I watched Thumbelina swish from one side of the brook to the other.

A panicked newt can be very nimble.

Thumbelina finally let her newt go.  It went to a sheltered nook between two rocks and quivered.

"Nice riding, Tex," I told her.  Newt riding is better than bucking broncos.

This is a salamander

"Aw, shucks.  T'weren't nothin'."

While we dried our wings in the sun, I asked her if salamanders were as fun to ride.

"Not quite.  They're a lot smarter, and they can actually hurt you when they buck you off."

So, if I ever get the chance again, I'll stick with newt riding.

-- Sabrina

She did amazingly well for a first try.  I won't be able to ride the same newts in that brook for at least a week.  They forget pretty quickly, but I also want to give them a chance to rest up.  Another thing about salamanders:  they come in more vivid colors.  I always wanted to ride them because of the color-thrill factor.  Then, I tore a wing and spent three months recovering.  Now, I always stick with newts.


May your rose be redolent of relaxation.


-- Fresh