Viscri Comes Home, a true farytale

Last update: 16.08.13 First posted: 24.07.13 by in

Once upon a time, in a village in a far-off country,

well, not so far off really, and upon a quite recent time,

lived people who didnt care much to be ruled,

they preferred to look after themselves and their neighbours,

and just be sensible and friendly

and when rulers came along they kind of ignored them

and carried on doing their thing

until sometimes the rulers got cross and bad-tempered

and sometimes even extremely bonkers and cruel

and made the people march in straight lines

and forgot to let them farm to grow food

so in the end the people had had enough,

and sacked the ruler

‘what shall we do now’ the people said?

‘we could grow food’ said one

‘and look after each-other’

said another

so they did,

but outside the country , the modern world was waiting to take over

with cars

and noise

and supermarkets

and unfriendly cities

and everybody wanting EVERYTHING NOW!!

the country tried to be true to its self

but it was tempting,

like a big bag of sweets you know are gonna make you feel sick,

but you want them anyway

Then a prince, with specially good hearing, was told about the country and went to the little town

and said,

‘this is special, this is important,

I will help

your houses are sweet but crumbly

your land is productive and full of wild things,

it must not be poisoned with chemicals

you need your neighbours’

‘what can we do?

We want to help too’ said other people, ‘we will make a plan………………’

Time went by, and one afternoon, just a few days ago, what should appear in the little town

but a van with a blue canoe on top

children pointed and squealed with delight

it was a house on wheels

all the way from England

Nick and Helena parked by the roadside in the little town,

it seemed like nothing was happening

but as they waited and watched they realised that although it was quiet, everyone was coming home

A tribe of ducklings pecked at greens from between cobblestones, the lady from the cafe shooed them back under the wooden farmyard gate to where they belonged

a horse and foal grazed across the street until a boy with a bridle in hand went into his own farmyard and came out with a horse wearing the bridle,

he stood on a big round stone and jumped onto the horse’s bare back,

Carts full of hay trundled up the dusty road pulled by horses with red tassles for luck, and stopped to drink from the hollowed-out log trough,

the old men and young girls sitting on the haystack, resting waiting.

a stork on the school chimney chattered its long beak as its mate flew by,

the milk boys rode by on their green wooden cart, four up, the youngest driving, returning empty churns to the farmers up and down the street

city workers returned in dusty cars in time to eat and then milk the cow

a distant tinkle from way down and suddenly six unbridled horses slaking their thirst at the trough, well ahead of the village herd

then, a tribe of delinquent goats jumping all over the town fountain, eating the plants, jingling and gone

a man in jeans and a baseball cap waiting for something, beside open farm gates,

Buff and brown cows, horned red and whites from Gary Laeson cartoons

wobbling, lumbering up the road, stopping to graze the grass by the stream, looking for all the world like they were lost, aimless

but with the heft of certainty, turning into the correct home barn , gates closed, milking time

Dogs, large, shaggy, serious but friendly follow, tired and hungry after a day in the hills guarding against predators

and the town herdsman whistling, talking, encouraging.

it’s growing dark, surely there can not be more?

Suddenly breaking the calm, a million jingles at the fountain and the sheep are back,

ready for shearing and to become felted slippers and sturdy socks

knitted by teams of ladies on the benches outside thier houses

quiet falls, as the moon rises,

and the squeak of a sack-barrow carying a full churn to the milk collection barn down the street ends the day.

just yesterday,

in a small town at the far east of Europe.

Romania, showing us how it should be

could be,

is being,


House/ barn

House on wheels with canoe

Bycling booba

naughty goats

hay wain

horse trough

litter bin

Milk boys


Boy with chicken food

Hay wain

storks eating

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