Clovis Finds Himself Less than Impressed at the Annual L'Herbe Bleu Tour of Homes for the Impossibly Wealthy and Overbred

Downton Abbey my

FOOT, said Clovis. I want my

money back right now.

Just Wear a Really Fabulous Hat and Carry a Pink Chicken. No One Will Notice Anything Else.

if your eyes go all

unstrung, that don't mean you can't 

still get your Vogue on

Auntie Hank, Auntie Al, and Auntie Peter, Big Sally, and Sistah Pink dressed up to go holiday shopping. Big Sally, at nearly two feet tall, is the tallest of all the Puppen, or Proper Folk. Proper Folk, often referred to as "Little People" by ill-educated human beings, tend to be less than six inches tall on average, and are generally no taller than twice that. Big Sally, however is charming, kind-hearted, and nice to have around to when you can't find the library stepladder.

The Only Real Reason to Let a Feral Fashion Doll Have a Birthday Party

pink cupcake icing

Crisco melting on my tongue 

who needs opium

No real food or toys were harmed in making of this Haiku Thursday's photograph, but everyone did get a plastic Hostess cupcake as a souvenir, and got to paint their lips pink with Dollar Tree Strawberry Gelato  lip gloss.

...And Dagmar Was Never Seen Again

ignore any strange

thing that calls your name when you

are the last one in line

- Dr. Washington Fenimore Fourre-Tout

Upon Being Asked About the Headless Aspect of Her Great-Aunt Clementine deFleury's Portrait

a fabulous frock

amends many another

insufficiency

-Sylvie de Fleury Fourre-tout, PhD, CdeP

Truly, the deFleurys have their priorities in order. Their motto is, after all, vitum venustus, petasi venustulus, which can be translated thusly: 'live a beautiful life and wear charming little hats."

This unusual early photographic work is the first known documented deFleury portrait of Nilla, the family chicken. MiMere Sylvie is considered la famillie Ouessant's very first charmeuse de poule and cryptocrepundologist.

Why Tourist Dolls Are Often Found Comatose

Glued-on underwear

a diet of pink gin and 

day-old petits fours

-Clovis deFleury

Clovis was torn between worrying about this poor little tourist doll and wondering where she'd gotten that fabulous hat.

Haiku Thursday: A Good Friend Will Help You Hide the Body

No one should laugh at 

cowgirls wearing pink spandex

and packing pitchforks.

Aunt Mathilde "Yukon Tilly" Woolum. 
Tilly possessed a stout heart, an itchy pitchfork , no fashion sense, and less sense of humor.

First Run

Dry corn in the moon,

said Paw Paw. Inside, shine corn

got no room to dream.

-Paw Paw Heenkees (Coot van Aschputtel Heenkees)

Paw Paw's haiku contributed by grandson and twelfth-generation shinemaker, 

Beech Dyrsen Heenkees, waving at top right in front of the corn silo

Yes. I bought them this still. Whatever you're thinking, just don't say it.  - The Missus

Easter Parade

 new chapeaux and shoes

sprout springy buds everywhere

easter parade soon

Haiku Thursday: Lonely Cookie

the saddest story

one last Girl Scout cookie waits

beyond desire's reach

Haiku Thursday: Harbinger

milk witch  Irish daisy

face clock  and pee-a-bed all

 say the same thing: spring

-William the Younger

Rhapsody in Bluebells

bluebells shake awake

and spring blows sky-high after

monotone winter

-attis puppendottir

A Haiku Explaining Why There's No Haiku Thursday

Clovis has left a note. 

"Springtime calls and I answer: 

No Haiku Thursday."

haiku by The Missus, Secretary and Amanuensis to Mr. Puppendottir, Myristica Farm

Haiku Thursday: Plastic Winter

Spring! Melt away the

evil plastic popsicle

of tiresome winter.

Haiku Thursday: At the Market

                                      

Cowpeas? Cabbage? Sprouts?

What was on the list I left

in my other purse?

- Victorine deFleury

 

Haiku Thursday

Trees fettered by ice

make leaves in their sleep while we

read long-deferred books 

- Clovis deFleury

Portrait of an Ancestor: Guillaume Edouard Ouessant

The first of the Ouessant to emigrate to the New World.

Guillaume "Guy" Edouard Ouessant scandalized the galleries of 1880s with his paintings of the celebrated Olympe deFleury wearing nothing but her hat, so the two of them packed up their paintbrushes and booked a voyage on the SS Bijou de Mer.

It is reported, as both families promptly disinherited these bright young scions, that they paid for their tickets in the time-honored currency of the street artist: interpretive dance (and napkin folding).

Clovis

...vintage fashionista, aficionado of Chinoiserie, second-string ukulele for the Reverend Zeno M. Shellbark's Hot Jazz Nights , and sometime cryptid hunter with his cousin Dr. Washington Fenimore Fourre-Tout. 

When he was very young, Clovis wrote that his ambition was to dance through the streets of the tiny Greek island of  Ios during the Homeria festival dressed in traditional 17th century goosegirl's costume while driving a herd of rare blue Turquoisian geese. 

Nowadays, he says, his ambition is to nap beautifully.

 

Puppendottir of North America: An Introduction

As the amanuensis (known - I hope fondly! as The Missus) for Attis Puppendottir, Farm Manager, Myristica Farms, I thought it might be useful to introduce the extended Puppendottir clan.

Puppendottir are a widespread family group of little people, most of whom are house managers for a friendly home- or farm-owner. They prefer a householder, or "husman", as they were originally referred to, who lives in an older dwelling with ample access for the intent observation of various local animal and plant species.

Many Puppen work in some capacity as naturalists among the minute and largely unknown species of their own world; many spend their lives documenting the interactions between householder and Puppen beings.

In keeping with their small size and their deep affection for living beings of all types, Puppen eat no meat but the occasional egg. They have a keen appetite for good toast (with butter) and jam of all kinds, and deeply admire the Brussels sprout.

Attis Puppendottir collecting early violets after an afternoon spent observing a most peculiar specimen of Felis domesticus on the Myristica Farm property. These violets will be turned over to the owner and chef of Vic & Kai's Deli at The Big House, Victorine Ouessant deFleury. Her recipe for blanc de violette farci appears elsewhere. 

Victorine Ouessant deFleury is a member of Ovis nympha puppenidae, most of whom are descended from Kalasiris XVII, a companion of Hatshepsut as well as the famed 19th-century French master painter Guillaume Edouard Ouessant. As such, many of these tiny sheep, la famille Ouessant, as they are commonly known, are known for their taste in millinery design and choux pastry.

Family historians present at the opening of the tomb of Kalasiris in 1929 were able to identify the relationship based on the famed King-Queen's correspondence, ca. 1473 BC, "Regarding my esteemed and tiny friend of myriad and glorious hats."

Victorine deFleury, left, with her husband Clemenceau Woolum-Wensleydale, at a Vic & Kai's Deli cast party in 2009. Victorine is shown here holding her chicken, Nilla, who has been in the deFleury family for many generations. It should be noted that while la famille Ouessant usually can be identified by their truly fabulous headgear, Clemenceau had loaned his favorite tocque to a visiting friend and sous-chef, Cookie Moon, far right.

Bound To Rise

The Reverend Zeno M. Shellbark wrote us a little January-blues work hymn called Bound to Rise, the title of which he got from a package of biscuit mix. 

He would like to remind everyone out there to stay warm, sip strong, sing loud and  you'll be bound to rise.

Bound to Rise

I’m bound for the Promised Land, huh

Where the sun was made to shine, huh

Bound for it, bound to rise, bound for it by and by.

I’m bound for it one of these days, Where the sky is never gray, huh

Bound for it, bound to rise, bound for it any day.

I’m bound for the Promised Land, huh

No more sorrowin’ tears, huh

Bound for it, bound to rise, bound for it one of these years.

I’m bound for it one of these days, where I’m bound to stay, huh

Cause I’m bound for it, bound to rise, bound for it any day.

I’m bound for the Promised Land, huh,

Long gone forty years, huh

If you come a-lookin’ for me, I’m gonna be right here.

I’m-a walk like I’m bound to rise, and  you know I’m bound to fly, hah!

‘Cause I’m bound for it, bound to rise, bound for it by and by.