Easter Bunnies.

The wood smelt of cinnamon. Breeze sniffed the air, like a dog would. “Hmm someone is baking, time to go visit.” He stood and stepped further out onto the branch of the tree, then smiled as it bent gracefully towards the ground. Then he stepped off and said “time to investigate such surprisingly delightfully promising smells.”

He placed one large foot on the soft forest floor and went to visit Tulip, the best baker he knew. However when he got to his friend Tulips house it was to discover she was not feeling happy.

“Did you steal my baking?” Tulip, the fairy, flew close to his face.

He shook his head and said, “It is gone? Ahh no who would do such a nasty thing?”

Tulip bit her bottom lip and considered who the thief might be. They decided to set a trap. Breeze helped by taking hold of two of the biggest hot cross buns and blew on them to cool them before eating them.

“Really? Tulip said. That is your idea of helping? Making them disappear?”

“But this time you know when and where they are disappearing. Last time it was some slinky thief who stole them.”

His fingers itched as Tulip placed the other ten cakes on her windowsill to cool.

“Now we hide. “She told him.

“Perhaps I should just sample one more to make sure they really are..” he was drooling as he spoke. “No, hide now.” Tulip stamped her feet and he knew it was a sign that a fairy with a lot of magic was getting madder by the second. And he did not want to make her angry.

Breeze climbed into a tree close to her house and waited. He didn’t see what was happening at first. He simply heard a “swish” “swash” sound and when he peered at the house there was now nine cakes left.

“Bother” Tulip said from her hiding place close to him. “did you see who that was?”

Breeze shook his head.

“Hmm, a little magic is needed.” With that she flew back to her window and threw what Breeze thought was icing sugar on the cakes.

When she arrived back beside Breeze, she put her finger to her lips. He nodded and settled down for a snooze, after all if magic was being used then he had time for a nap.

He woke to see a dancing hopping bright blue light. It made his head ache, the light was too bright. “Turn it off, please ” he asked Tulip.

“In a minute, come with me.”

Breeze looked at her and wondered if now was a good time to point out that she always insisted he said, “please and thank you,” but she often forgot to say it. He decided to be quiet.

They discovered in the middle of the hopping blue light a very angry dancing bunny.

“He looks strange.” Breeze said.

“Herbert is very strange”

But he is the, Easter bunny isn’t he?” Breeze tilted his head sideways to examine the huge basket of easter eggs beside Herbert. “You can’t harm him then.”

“Tulip maybe it would be best to let him go.” Breeze spoke softly.

Tulip thought about this and decided Breeze was right. But only after she made Herbert eat two dozen hot cross buns. When he left he kept saying, “I will never want to see one of them ever again.”

It took Breeze two days and a whole tin of gingerbread men before he forgave her for not letting him eat hot cross buns with the Easter Bunny.

 

Sally’s Smiling Sunflowers

Part 3.

Sally wondered what would make Mr. Blunt happy. She wanted to see him smile. “Everyone should smile sometime,” she whispered.

Her dad heard her. He said “If you do that you will be the biggest and best smile maker in the whole world.”

This is Sally as  the worlds biggest, best smile maker for you to colour.

*********************

 

 

Images belonging to another children’s story yet to be completed.

I thought instead of writing a story I would post a few of the great colourful images Sara has done for another children’s story. You might recognise one of the drawings which features on decidinglybob.wordpress.com

Sally lives next door to an elderly man who is grumpy. Her aim is to make him smile. The question is how does she do it?

 

Lolita gets clever

With  five hundred and fifty five  sacks of nectar  collected, I only have six more to go. Then I will be  collector of the week, Horace thought as he paused for a break.

It was humid and hot, not two of his favourite words but work was work and families had mouths and they needed to be fed.

He paused and with a neat flick his strawlike tongue zipped outwards and got …nada… zilch…nothing.

Again, it can’t be happening again. Oh gosh, that’s the third time today. I’m overworked, I’m finished I won’t make the top of the pollen charts today or tomorrow. I must be ill. As he ranted and raved, a strange noise caught his attention. He paused and looked about him. The other insects around were mostly bees or the odd horsefly, but he could have sworn he heard a giggle. He didn’t see anyone watching him.

“Oh god, its worse than I thought, I’m going cuckoo, mad, batty.” He shuddered – he hated bats.

Horace considered his options. To return home now would be to admit total and utter defeat.  “I’m not a quitter, ” he muttered. “I’ll move on to the next plant and try once more.”

Horace waited for the wind to lift and like the other butterflies about him he had a knack of taking off just at the right moment. However, today when he stretched his wings for take off, he noticed that something was not quite right. I feel as though I am gaining weight. Must go back to  Moving and Meditating Classes, they did me good the last time. He decided as he flew on to the next plant.

butterfly-collecting-pollen-10898768

He landed with a thump and gave himself a minute. He closed his eyes and pictured a calm scene. Night time and his bed.

Meanwhile Lolita ladybug had unattached herself from him and was busy collecting nectar. Horace is exceptionally stupid, he closes his eyes for a minute each time he lands. She hummed as she worked.

Butterflies were famous for being less than clever but today she had hit the jackpot, so far she had robbed Horace of six sacks of nectar and if she played her cards right he would even give her a ride back home.

The sun was dropping to its bed, the level of noise was dropping as most animals were settling down for the night.  Horace was almost home. He was exhausted and flying low to the ground. As he flew over a discarded bicycle he noticed a strange reflection. It can’t be me, I am never that shape, he thought and circled for a better look.

Lolita, I will fix her. But saying it and doing it are two very different things. Horace didn’t want to hurt her merely give her a fright. Suddenly he saw the perfect place to do it.  It was a steep climb but he made it. He dropped very low over the basin and with a huge effort gave his wings a shake. The sleepy ladybird slid off the end of his wing, the sacks of pollen followed her dropping through the air. As Lolita woke with a fright she began to scream.  Feeling the sudden rush of air, she began to flick her wings to stop her fall.  It was enough for Horace to turn around dive between her and the sacks and collect them with his outspread wings.

“Don’t mess with me again. I am not stupid.” Horace said as he turned for home.

ladybird

With a shrug Lolita vowed she would have better luck tomorrow as she too made her way home.

 

 

Izzy’s Problem

Note: A first draft of a chapter book, remarks, comments will be chewed on with delight.

Chapter 1

free-digi-stamp

A problem to solve.

Pots and pans were zipping through the air.  The kitchen was a large airport without an airport controller.  With a loud squeal Esmeralda,  Izzy’s cat,  was whisked upwards in the playful current of air. She landed in a  huge saucepan.  Crouching low with her tail tightly curled about her,  Esmeralda’s huge paws covered her eyes.

Izzy didn’t notice her poor cat.  She was sitting eating toast. It was oozing with warm runny butter and strawberry jam.

Those saucepans look grotty Izzy , she thought.  Her friends couldn’t understand why  Izzy preferred saucepans to cauldrons. “Easier to clean” she explained to them. That is they would be easier to clean if she remembered to get cleaner.

Izzy began to write on the back of an envelope.  The note said,  get some more cleaner,  it was scrawled in her untidy hand writing with cartoon spiders dancing about it.   She scowled at it, it reminded her of something she didn’t like doing – shopping.

“Surf and stuff it” Izzy  stamped her foot and every flying object including Esmerelda lost its invisible wings, landing with a huge wallop in an untidy heap on the kitchen floor.

Izzy knew why everything was turning upside down and roundabout on her.  She was fed up.  It was ages since she had any fun with her other witch friends.

“Perhaps they’ve grown out of having fun!”  Izzy whispered.  “What a terrible thought!  I mean, what sort of witch is a witch who doesn’t have any fun or silliness in her life. It’s what we’re supposed to do, create mayhem for humans.  They say people can die from boredom.” Izzy told a dizzy looking Esmerelda  who was stumbling out of the upturned pot.

Izzy had a terrible thought. What if it isn’t only people who could be seriously affected by the lack of fun and newness in their lives?  “Witches couldn’t die from boredom, could they?”  Izzy spoke very carefully and slowly hoping that it would help to get rid of such a stupid thought.

But no, it lingered, repeating itself over and over. It didn’t help her bad mood.  She gave a giant hiccup and flew straight out of the window into the huge beech tree.

It was her favorite place to sit and think.

In fact some of her most earth shattering decisions had been made while sitting quietly in this tree. High above with only the odd wayward bee for company she was free from all the usual noises of life.

Her great decisions may seem simple to you or me but to a neat methodical witch they were very important indeed.

For example:  She once spent a whole afternoon sitting wondering, if it would be better to file all of her recipes  (Jamie and Delia’s) by color code or by the order in which Izzy ate her meals.  That was her problem.

The order in which she ate depended on what she was having.  If it was tomato soup it always came first and last, Izzy loved tomato soup.

High in this tree the solution appeared suddenly. It was simple. A recipe book for witches by a champion cooking witch! The recipes would appear as she made them up.  If she liked the new recipe it would stay but if she didn’t then it would topple off the page.

Today she was so tired she curled up and fell asleep.

When she woke she was not only hungry but full of energy.

“I think a little walk before dinner would do this talented witch a world of good,” she decided as she licked her lips.  “A couple of meringues from the bakers shop could be just the medicine that I need.”