There is a place in my heart that will always be forever wild, just like the Adirondack Mountains, Up State New York. This is where I lived for a short time, many summers ago.

     This 6 million acre wilderness with its 3,000 lakes and 30,000 miles of streams and rivers has made a footprint in my heart for the remainder of my life. Perhaps it is the way in which it rebels against all attempts to train it that appeals to me. I certainly feel one with nature when I am there, despite knowing that these spectacular mountains are home to the black bear.

      These big black eating machines, prowl through the forests, hunting for berries and nuts.  Many times I spotted one, creeping around the lakes, rivers and streams, hunting for small mammals and the white – tailed deer fawn.

       Ursus americanus, as they are otherwise known, symbolize how wild this wilderness is. Let it remain forever wild.

A Poem to the Adirondacks

“The Poet of the Dusk”
John Shalhoub

Adirondacks, hills and valleys,
Are you listening?
Your splendor awes my spirit.
You grapple with the skies and the stars
My love lives in the shadow of your rocks.
Moving with soft winds by day
Attending to the whispers of my soul.
Your crown creeps into my dreaming soul.
Your crown reflects my love,
As I pass in waking dream through your forests
Of towering trees with murmuring tongues,
I salute your splendor,
And glorify the Maker,
Who bids me peace.
I stand dumb before you,
And speak to your soul in beautiful silence,
While the leaves play the music
To the clouds, mountains, hills, and valleys.
My love lives in your majesty
On the boughs of your spruces,
In every breeze across your face,
Through the ever greenness of your cloak,
Into the brightness of your winter blanket.
Beyond my tears, I rejoice
You are a refuge for my heart.
Adirondacks, are you listening?

Small I might be but clever I am! The fly wrote on the wall to the human. Sometimes people think I’m disgusting when I spit digestive juices on food. But let me tell you this, I need to decompose what I eat before swallowing. We all have to eat, after all!

      Ok, so my eyes look a bit scary close up, back off then! Give me a break! If you have to know more, then I might as well tell you. I have poor eye sight, despite the fact that each of my eyes contains 4000 lenses. So please hurry up and invent specs for flies!

      So what is it about me that you don’t like? Apart from the fact I defecate every couple of minutes, so what, it doesn’t smell, does it? I do my best for you by accelerating your recycling process by decomposing organic waste. What more do you want? Please, nothing that requires speed, although I can do up to 5 miles an hour! Not bad for a fly. By the way, I do carry some lethal weapons, such as pathogenic bacteria. This could be rather dangerous if you want an outbreak of tuberculosis, dysentery, anthrax, gangrene, to name but a few. But I had better stop there as I’m not painting a pretty picture of myself.

       Moving  swiftly on, I do have a second pair of wings called halters, like mini drum sticks (we’re not talking hens here!) if you need me to fight some battles. However, remember that I do not like spiders, even the ones you think are friendly. They all have a dark side to them!

       And I would just like to tell you, that we flies like the company of humans, you supply all our needs but you do chase us about a bit. Remember, life is too short, even for a fly like me. We live for just 30 – 60 days, so we have to make the most of it!

Boys will be boys, and Gilbert the Great was no exception. In fact, he very often over stepped the mark. You see, Gilbert was a ladies’ man and all the ladies loved Gilbert. Well almost all!

     The posh girls loved Gilbert despite his amorous ways. The raunchy rooster would strut about the yard with his chest out, trying hard to make himself look twice the size and butch.

     Although he was a great protector, Gilbert the Great was actually surplus to requirements. You see, hens do not need a rooster in order to lay eggs but they need one, if a chick was to be born.

     Gilbert the Great would sit on a fence at our home for waifs and strays and threaten anyone who came near his girls...especially those that were sitting on eggs. I’m sure the poor postman dreaded coming anywhere near the place and often left parcels in a house across the road.  As you can imagine, Gilbert the Great didn’t make us very popular!

       Well as I said, all the girls loved Gilbert, but there were one or two exceptions and Sandwich was one of them. At least, she pretended to have no interest in him at all but she did watch him from a safe distance

        When Sandwich first saw Gilbert, she was pitiful looking, having just arrived from the battery farm and so Gilbert didn’t pay her much attention. However, he did tend to watch her over the shoulders of the posh girls. And when Sandwich’s feathers returned to full shiny glory, she outshone all the others. In fact, she looked amazing.

         Gilbert the Great saw the transformation and would strut across the yard towards her. He would dance the cockerel waltz, with one wing stretched downwards. This amused our many visitors but certainly not Sandwich, at least, not at first. In fact, they almost came to blows, on many occasions. This, it seemed, only fuelled Gilbert the Greats amorous ways.

          As I watched the love affair develop between Sandwich and Gilbert, I often wondered if she knew that this raunchy rooster had the potential to fulfil her dreams. Remember the egg she craved for, at the battery farm, the one that almost rolled away? I knew then, that Sandwich would make a great mother one day. But whether Gilbert the Great would win her over, you will have to wait and see.....It’s later than you think now, and the house is quiet once again. Time for Bed!

Aled Evans watched as his hampster ran like crazy around a wheel inside her cage. 

      ‘Don’t your tiny feet get tired?’ he frowned. ‘Don’t you feel sick?’

     The hamster slowed down and looked at Aled. Aled stared into its eyes for an answer, but he didn’t get one.

     ‘It must be like living in school every single day,’ Aled looked disgusted. ‘If that’s how it feels, then I have no choice but to set you free.’

      The hampster went faster than ever before.

      ‘Wouldn’t you like to be free to run around the world?’ Aled shouted into the cage. But the hamster ignored him.

       ‘Oh, I would love to run around the world,’ said Aled leaning against his bed. And he wondered if this was possible. Everybody would notice me then, he thought, even my teacher.

       ‘I will start practising,’ said Aled to the hamster. ‘And when I am ten, I will be fit enough to run around the world.

      So Aled Evans ran around the garden five times, then ten times, then fifteen times. By the end of the week he could run around the garden fifty times without stopping and without getting out of breath. It was a good sized garden too.

      The following week, Aled began to run around the village of Gusty Gully. This was more of a challenge. ‘I can do this,’ thought Aled. I can do anything if I try hard enough.’

      Aled Evans smiled to himself as he ran through the village. He saw people watching him. He could see them peeping around the curtains of their homes. 'I like this,' he thought. 'No one has ever noticed me before.'

      ‘Where are you running to?’ shouted Phil the Fish as Aled whizzed past him. Ugh! The smell of fish made him feel sick. So Aled ran faster and shouted, ‘around the world!’ on the top of his voice.

     ‘Can I join in?’ said Tom the Egg as he ran passed the home for waifs and strays.

      Aled put up his hand and nodded.

     ‘Can we come too?’ said Archie and Ollie as they walked home from school.

     Tom put up his hand again and nodded.

     ‘Where are you going?,’ shouted Megan and Hayley as they came out of the sweet shop.

    ‘Around the world,’ Tom the egg shouted back.

    ‘We’re coming too!’ said the girls and they stuffed their sweets in their pockets and began to run.

Everywhere you look there are fairies, but not everyone can see them. I can! I’ve always known they were there and I remember the first time I met one.

     Many years ago when I was six or seven, I went to live with my grandmother in a little wooden house next to the woods. My whole life seemed to change that day, especially the way I began to see the world and my father.

     My new garden rolled into endless fields, woods and beaches. Apart from the old farm at the bottom of the lane, there were no other houses near us.

     It all began when I was wondering around the garden minding my own business. I had been crying, though I can’t tell you why because I don’t remember. Walking through an enormous greenhouse with hundreds of bunches of grapes hanging from the roof, made me forget for a moment that I was sad. I stood on a chair to reach for a bunch but instantly fell off. As I raised my head up off the ground, I saw them!

     Hundreds of tiny white fluffy balls with tails, flew past the greenhouse towards the woods. I jumped up (forgetting about my sore knees) and followed them. The sadness had vanished and so had the tears.

      I ran down the lane, passed the old farmhouse and into the woods trying hard to keep up with them. They just had to be fairies, I thought, just like the ones in the story my mother once told me. Then they vanished. I searched and searched but couldn’t find them.

      ‘Where are you?’ I called softly. But there was no reply so I turned to go back home.

      That was when I saw her. She had landed on a leaf. Ever so slowly, I crept towards her, hardly daring to breathe.

       ‘Don’t be afraid,’ I whispered. She moved slightly. Oh, she wasn’t at all like I imagined, but a fairy nevertheless. She was pure white and perfectly round and I stared, with saucer eyes, as she tiptoed over the leaf, dragging her tail behind her. Just as she turned to look at me, I heard my father’s voice. Oh why did he have to follow me?

       ‘Thank heavens I found you!’ he picked me up and over his shoulder I could still see the little fairy.

       ‘I’m so sorry daddy, but I was chasing fairies.’

       My father put me down and looked to where I was pointing. She’s there on the leaf.

       ‘I can see her,’ said my father. ‘She is indeed a fairy from the dent de lion flowers.’

       I looked at my father as if I had never seen him before. 'You believe in fairies too?' My father nodded.

      ‘So she does have a home!’ I said.

      ‘Not anymore,’ said my father. ‘You see, she has left her home in the dent de lion, which is French for the lions tooth or dandelion to most people, and now she’s looking for a new one.’

       ‘But where will she go?’ I was so afraid for the fairy.

       ‘A place where she will be free and happy,' my father replied.

        I turned to see my very first fairy, flying to her new home.’ Just like me I thought. If someone so small could live happily ever after, then so could I.