Now you or I might feel just a wee bit nonplussed if a small dragon breathing fire were to disturb our repose in such a place, but Algy was not the least bit surprised, for he knew that it was St. George’s Day, and he had always made a point of seeking out dragons on this day in order to befriend them.
For a moment, however, it looked as though this particular dragon might not be aware of Algy’s altruistic record, and Algy hesitated, wondering whether discretion would not be the better part of valour in this case: preparing to fly, he rapidly assessed the merits of a prompt retreat to another spot, from which he could assure the dragon of his best intentions at a safe distance. But fluffy birds are generally endowed with rather more valour than discretion - and Algy was mindful of the fact that most dragons can fly faster than birds - so he decided to hold his ground and greet the dragon with a Shakespearean sonnet, reminding it that it was not only St. George’s Day but also the great Bard’s birthday. Fortunately, this seemed to meet with the dragon’s approval, and it turned tail and left Algy safely on his ledge, chuckling with relief…
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date; Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, And often is his gold complexion dimm’d; And every fair from fair sometime declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st; Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st: So long as men can breathe or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
[Algy hopes that it is not necessary to tell you what he is quoting today ]
It was St. George’s Day again - a day on which Algy has always made a point of seeking out dragons to befriend.
However, with his own special dragon friend visiting him at home in the wild west Highlands of Scotland, Algy was reluctant to go out in search of other dragons: he guessed that the little green dragon might very possibly take offence. So instead they reminisced about their very first encounter, exactly one year ago today in faraway Patadragonia, when Algy had endeavoured to placate the fire-breathing creature with Shakespeare’s famous sonnet.
On Easter Monday - as though they were in Scotland and not on the magical Easter Island - the Easter bunny invited Algy to indulge in a wee spot of pace egging, but as they didn’t have a sloping hillside handy, they had to roll their eggs on the flat grass…
When indulging in the activity of pace egging it is traditional to sing an old folk song, and indeed to beg for some money, eggs, or beer, but as neither Algy nor the Easter bunny have very good singing voices, and they don’t much care for beer, they decided to leave the singing to those better qualified…
Here’s one two three jolly lads all in one mind, We have come a pace egging and we hope you’ll prove kind; And we hope you’ll prove kind, with your eggs and strong beer, And we’ll come no more nigh you until the next year.
Happy Spring and Happy Easter to you all
[Note: the word pace in this context has nothing to do with speed, but is an old English version of the Latin word for Easter - Pascha]
While Algy was chatting with the little green dragon among the Easter cherry blossom, he told his odd wee friend many stories of his adventures on the mysterious Easter Island, where he had found himself this time last year, and it occurred to him that perhaps some of his new friends might like to see what he had got up to last Easter Monday in that magical faraway place.
It was the first weekend of spring in the wild west Highlands of Scotland, and although it could hardly be said to be warm, even in that much coveted but rarely discovered “sheltered spot out of the wind”, Algy found the sunshine quite dazzling after the endless months of darkness.
So he tucked himself down behind another patch of daffodils, together with his little dragon friend - who was glowing so brightly with the fresh colours of spring that he almost rivalled the flowers themselves - and they spent a happy day relaxing in Algy’s assistants’ garden, discussing such profound topics as the question of why not all daffodils are yellow, while Algy’s assistants indulged in the hard labour which is the duty of all gardeners at this season of the year.
As they chatted, Algy told the little green dragon that, owing to the magic that is tumblr, the image of their rainbow dance had reached many new friends, all around the world…
And so Algy sends very special fluffy hugs to all his new followers - and, of course, to all those friends who have been following his adventures for some time - and he hopes that you will all have a chance to relax in some pleasant sunshine this weekend…
Spring had arrived at last, and although the air and wind were still cold, there was a quality of warmth in the vernal sunshine which Algy had not felt for six months or more - not to mention an enormous increase in the quantity and intensity of light, which was almost too bright to contemplate after the endless months of dreary darkness under perpetual rain clouds.
Few creatures could resist the joys of such a spring day, and Algy and his little green dragon friend were no exception. When they saw a large clump of daffodils opening their petals in the sun they rushed towards them and revelled in the glory of the golden trumpets.
As Algy watched his friend inspect the unfamiliar flowers, he was delighted to observe that there were several bumblebees buzzing around them, and all the birds of the vicinity were helping to celebrate the coming of spring in their own individual voices. Some only managed a chirrup or a tweet, and some proclaimed their opinions with an incessant “widgy widgy widgy widgy widgy”, but for a moment Algy caught the beautiful sound of the first skylark of the season, singing in the heavens, and he smiled a very large fluffy bird smile.
Resting on the mossy ground under the daffodils, it was inevitable that Algy was reminded of Wordsworth’s famous verses, for, like the poet, he “could not but be gay in such a jocund company”… although, basking in the sunshine with the little green dragon beside him, Algy was neither wandering nor feeling the slightest bit lonely.
So he hopes you will forgive him if he repeats the often-quoted poem once more for the sake of his dragon friend, for he suspects that the funny wee creature may not have had the usual advantages of a literary education when young
I wander’d lonely as a cloud That floats on high o'er vales and hills, When all at once I saw a crowd, A host of golden daffodils, Beside the lake, beneath the trees Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine And twinkle on the milky way, They stretch’d in never-ending line Along the margin of a bay: Ten thousand saw I at a glance Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced, but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee: - A poet could not but be gay In such a jocund company! I gazed - and gazed - but little thought What wealth the show to me had brought.
For oft, when on my couch I lie In vacant or in pensive mood, They flash upon that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude; And then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils.
[Algy is of course quoting the famous poem Daffodils by the 19th century English poet William Wordsworth.]
As Algy and his strange little friend were exploring the banks of the burn together, the little green dragon suddenly bounded towards a rock and lunged at a wee green plant that was trailing from a deep crevice.
Fascinated, Algy perched on a soft, dry heather bush beside his friend and watched while the dragon started to eat the bright green leaves of the plant with an enthusiastic glow.
“I didn’t know you ate plants,” exclaimed Algy. “I would have found you something special if I had known.”
The little green dragon interrupted its munching for a moment and looked round at Algy.
“It’s not easy being green,” it breathed softly, unwittingly quoting a much more famous character
“Of course this is not spinach, but…”
Eat a tomato and you’ll turn red (I don’t think that’s really so); Eat a carrot and you’ll turn orange (Still and all, you never know); Eat some spinach and you’ll turn green (I’m not saying that it’s true But that’s what I heard, and so I thought I’d pass it on to you).
Algy pondered for a moment, ruffling his rather dishevelled feathers. “Then perhaps I should eat something fluffy,” he mused… “Do you think chocolate brownies would do?”
[The little green dragon is quoting the poem Vegetables by the 20th century American author Shel Silverstein.]
The next morning the friends went out into the garden together, in search of daffodils.
Most of Algy’s friends had seen these beautiful harbingers of spring many times before, but the little green dragon - who had lived a very sheltered life in the bleak and arid country of Patadragonia and then in the confines of a travelling circus - had not even heard of such flowers, let alone seen them.
The strange little creature was so excited and thrilled by the lovely yellow trumpets that he began to glow in the soft yellow and green colours of spring
p.s. Algy realises that his 10th Tumblr birthday - and his sudden reappearance on this unique occasion - will have taken most of his friends by surprise. So the celebrations of this very special birthday will continue on Algy’s sideblog @lovefromalgytoday.
All of a sudden there was a rustling and a shuffling and a whispering and a giggling, and the sensation of a wonderfully warm glow which seemed to wrap itself all around him, and Algy, who was just a tiny, wee bit awake already, sat bolt upright with a start of surprise.
“What?… Who?… When?… How?…” he exclaimed…
“Wake up, Algy!” cried his friends, “It’s your birthday! And it’s spring! It’s time to wake up again.”
The animals pressed against him and held out a pretty little bunch of spring flowers. “Happy Birthday, Algy!” they sang. “Happy Birthday!”
Algy was quite overcome. Even his special friend the little green dragon - who he had last seen flying off to join the circus in faraway Patadragonia - was there beside him, warming the assembled company with its magical glow, which was especially welcome on what seemed to be a typical early spring day in the wild west Highlands of Scotland.
“But how can this be?” spluttered Algy. “It was October… I was drifting off to sleep on a dark, damp, dreich autumn day. I couldn’t believe how many months it would be until the spring… I was almost in despair…”
“Feel behind your ear,” whispered the little green dragon.
Algy reached up and felt something strange tucked in among his fluffy feathers. It was the magical cherry blossom which he had brought back from Easter Island the year before.
“When the autumn became unbearable, the cherry blossom put you to sleep,” giggled Algy’s rat friend Twicklewick. “You have been hibernating. Huge storms raged, trees crashed down, the wind howled constantly, rain fell almost all the time, every day was dark and overcast, and you slept through it all, tucked up under the ivy - you lucky fluffy bird! And when the world turned again and it was nearly your birthday, the cherry blossom called us - even the little green dragon, who flew all the way across the ocean to be here today.”
Algy laughed a fluffy bird laugh of joy.
“I can hardly believe it,” he cried. “But it’s wonderful to see you all again. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
“Thank the magical cherry blossom,” whispered the little green dragon.
And then all Algy’s friends started singing again.
“Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday you silly old fluffy bird friend, Happy Birthday to you… Algy! Hooray!”
p.s. This is Algy’s 10th Tumblr birthday - quite an occasion, even though Algy has been absent for a while. So despite the short notice, Algy will be reblogging posts by his friends on his sideblog @lovefromalgy in a party celebration of this special birthday. You are all invited
Monday morning was one of sudden changes in the weather, when drenching showers rushed across the sky chased by dazzling autumn sunshine, which lasted only a few minutes before it, too, fled away to the east, pursued by huge black clouds lit up from time to time by a beautiful rainbow.
Algy hopped up into the wee cherry tree by the feeder for his smaller fluffy friends, and revelled in a short-lived burst of golden light. This poor wee tree had struggled for many years to grow in the challenging local conditions, and it was rare that it held its leaves long enough for them to “turn”, but this year had been kinder than most, and Algy was delighted to see that for once it had a chance to display its glorious autumn colours.
From time to time a golden leaf fluttered to the ground as the wee birds stocked up on supplies to get them through the chilly autumn night, and somewhere, hidden in another tree behind Algy’s head, a robin who was evidently more concerned with higher things was singing his autumn refrain:
Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; Every leaf speaks bliss to me Fluttering from the autumn tree. I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night’s decay Ushers in a drearier day.
[The robin is singing the poem Fall, leaves, fall by the 19th century English author Emily Brontë.]
The following day was somewhat calmer but continued persistently wet, although the rain was evidently getting fed up with falling the entire time, as it only dribbled aimlessly, on and off, in a decidedly half-hearted and desultory sort of way, no doubt having exhausted itself in the torrential downpours of recent days.
Algy reclined on the rough concrete step in his assistants’ new front gateway, gazing out across the still-green croft land to the brown peat bogs and hillsides beyond, wishing that his assistants had thought to provide some kind of waterproof cushion for the benefit of fluffy birds who did not much care for cold, damp tail feathers. The mist had cleared sufficiently to see the grey, blurry shapes of two out of the three islands which should be visible from that spot, although it looked as though they might vanish again at any moment, as things so often did on the wild west coast of the Scottish Highlands…
At first there was no sign of sentient life of any kind, and Algy contemplated the dreich October day alone, but eventually a lone wanderer ambled by and paused for a moment to exchange a few words.
“How’re ye doing?” enquired the sheep, adopting the form of greeting common to most local residents in that area.
“No so bad,” replied Algy, in the same manner. “And yourself?”
“Baaaaaaaaaaa!” bleated the sheep, and turning its head away it slowly walked away, leaving Algy alone on the step once again.
Algy hopes that if you should find yourself in a similar situation this Sunday, you will at least have the benefit of a wee bit of conversation with some fellow creature, even if it is only a sheep… but just in case you do not, he sends you all lots of damp but very fluffy hugs xo
When he had slowly gathered his wits about him, Algy turned around and noticed that in his absence his assistants had installed a smart new deer fence, no doubt in an effort to keep the iconic and “Romantic” Highland cows and red deer - which the tourists so much loved to photograph - from Romantically devouring and trampling their garden…
Hopping up onto the top of one of the tall wooden posts, Algy gazed out to the north-west, in the direction where he should have been able to see the beautiful Sea of the Hebrides and the Small Isles…
But there was nothing; just nothing at all beyond the faint, grey hills which surrounded his home.
Algy wasn’t surprised. It was early autumn on the wild west coast of the Scottish Highlands, and instead of those golden colours and crisp, fresh days which so many of his friends seemed to celebrate at this time of year, the dense Scotch mist driving in from the Atlantic Ocean had washed out the landscape with “a smoky smirr o rain”:
A misty mornin’ doon the shore wi a hushed an’ caller air, an’ ne’er a breath frae East or West tie sway the rashes there, a sweet, sweet scent frae Laggan’s birks gaed breathin’ on its ane, their branches hingin beaded in the smoky smirr o rain.
The hills aroond war silent wi the mist alang the braes. The woods war derk an’ quiet wi dewy, glintin’ sprays. The thrushes didna raise for me, as I gaed by alane, but a wee, wae cheep at passin’ in the smoky smirr o rain.
Rock an’ stane lay glisterin’ on aa the heichs abune. Cool an’ kind an’ whisperin’ it drifted gently doon, till hill an’ howe war rowed in it, an’ land an’ sea war gane. Aa was still an’ saft an’ silent in the smoky smirr o rain.
[Algy is quoting the poem The Smoky Smirr o Rain by the 20th century Scottish poet George Campbell Hay, who wrote in all three of the languages used in Scotland: Scots (as in this poem), Gaelic, and English.]
For the benefit of those who find the Scots words difficult to understand, Algy has made his own rough and literal translation, without any attempt at rhyming:
A misty morning down at the shore with a hushed and refreshing air, And never a breath from East or West to sway the rushes there, A sweet, sweet scent from Laggan’s birches was exhaled on its own, Their branches draped with beads in the misty drizzle of rain.
The hills around were silent with the mist along the brows. The woods were dark and quiet with dewy, glinting twigs. The thrushes raised no alarm for me, as I went by alone, Except for a tiny mournful cheep at my passing in the misty drizzle of rain.
Rock and stone lay glistening on all the heights above, Cool and kind (?) and whispering it drifted gently down Till hill and hollow were wrapped in it and land and sea were gone. All was still and soft and silent in the misty drizzle of rain.
Algy awoke with a start, and was astonished to find that he seemed to be tucked into the crook of the massive trunk of his very own favourite tree, a venerable larch which overlooked his assistants’ garden on the wild west coast of the Scottish Highlands.
But there was no doubt about it. Not only was the lichen-covered tree entirely familiar, but everything around it was silvery grey and green and wet… totally, utterly wet. This most certainly was not the parched and arid land of Patadragonia, and the soft, drenching Atlantic air bore no resemblance to the bitterly cold and bracing climate of that faraway place. And that cool, damp, almost-invisible blanket which covered everything with a light but saturating touch was also entirely familiar. it was mist: that dense, fine, perpetually wet Scotch mist which was so characteristic of his own adopted home.
Had it all been a dream? Algy looked more carefully at his surroundings. When he had been whisked away to his magical birthday adventure on a tropical islandthe Scottish trees had been bare, for the land he had left behind was on the verge of welcoming the spring. But now he saw a verdant mass of leaves which were just on the point of fading and falling, and here and there, some distance away, bunches of red and orange berries dangled temptingly from the branches. The world had turned, and the seasons had unquestionably changed…
Algy propped himself up more securely and, pondering on the mystery of it all, he muttered quietly under his breath:
I have had a most rare vision. I have had a dream—past the wit of man to say what dream it was. Man is but an ass if he go about to expound this dream. Methought I was—there is no man can tell what. Methought I was, and methought I had—but man is but a patched fool if he will offer to say what methought I had. The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man’s hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report what my dream was.
[Algy is of course quoting Bottom’s famous speech from Act IV of A Midsummer Night’s Dream by the English 16th/early 17th playwright William Shakespeare.]
Algy had spent an exceptionally long, cold and sleepless night before the dawning of the day of the solstice in the faraway land of Patadragonia, but he quickly forgot his weariness, and the anxieties which had troubled his mind during the hours of darkness, when the dawn finally broke over the snowy mountains.
It was truly a magical morning, for when the purple sky began to light up with the lovely pinks and blues of a Patadragonian dawn and ethereal mists started to shimmer up from the frosty plains, Algy heard a most extraordinary sound, and at the same time felt a strange vibration. Glancing around, he saw that the cherry blossom which he had brought so carefully from the strange Easter island had started to shimmer and sparkle on the rock behind him, and in a few moments more he understood why…
Although the little dragon had told him that despite its wish to join a circus it had never actually seen one in Patadragonia, the procession which was making its way along the migration route they had been seeking the day before could not possibly be mistaken for anything else. Algy guessed that the cherry blossom had worked its unique magic once again, and although he was sure that he would miss the funny wee creature, he was delighted that by bringing the cherry blossom to this land he had been able to help his little friend realise its lifelong dream at last.
For when the dragon saw the circus train proceeding along the track it was overcome with excitement, rushing about here and there and performing its special fire-breathing act in the air, even though it was unlikely that the creatures of the circus could be watching. Despite its exhilaration, the little dragon was at first reluctant to leave Algy’s side, but when it saw that the procession would soon be out of sight, and heard the circus music beginning to fade away, Algy did not have to exert much effort to persuade his unusual friend to seize the day…
Of course Algy felt sad to see his little friend go, but he was so happy for the funny wee dragon, and so certain that they would meet again in the future - as long as he kept the magical cherry blossom safe - that when the final calliope in the circus train vanished out of sight he thought only of the little dragon’s exciting and happy new life in the circus it had always longed to join, and of all the wonderful new adventures which undoubtedly lay ahead…
[The circus band is playing the “National Emblem March,” composed in 1902 by Edwin Eugene Bagley, in a version created by Algy’s assistants. Algy says be sure to turn on the sound!]
p.s. For the sake of his longstanding tumblr friends, Algy wanted to post his own version of this grand finale to his recent adventure with his little dragon friend - which waspremiered in a special Tumblr Tuesday feature on the Adventures of Algy on @staff yesterday.Algy apologises for the longer-than-usual gaps in his recent adventures, but it was owing to the amount of work required for this video and the special timing arranged with @staff for Tumblr Tuesday.
Hello! Happy solstice. What’s this, you ask? Well, it’s a Tuesday. It’s also the end of one of Algy’s adventures in Patadragonia. Who’s Algy? Algy is a friend-shaped accidental adventurer. In this particular part of his story, he helps a dragon with some mad dance moves join the circus. In Patadragonia. (Sound on for total immersion.)
On the morning of the solstice…
…in the faraway land of Patadragonia, dawn broke with a beautiful deep pink glow over the mountains, and ethereal mists shimmered up from the frosty plains. Algy was still dozing after his long, sleepless night under the full moon when suddenly he heard a most extraordinary sound, and at the same time, he felt the special cherry blossom which he had brought all the way from the magical Easter island begin to vibrate and sparkle on the cold, bare rock behind him…
There was no doubt about it: the moment had arrived…Algy knew that his little dragon friend was about to realize its lifelong dream at last, and although he was sure that he would miss the funny wee creature, he could not have been happier for his very special friend, especially as he felt certain that—so long as he kept the magical cherry blossom safe—they would be bound to meet again in adventures yet to come…
[The circus band is playing the “National Emblem March,” composed in 1902 by Edwin Eugene Bagley, in a version created by Algy’s assistants.]
Something VERY exciting has happened to Algy - a unique tumblr adventure which he never even dreamed of…
A wee while ago, Algy was approached by tumblr staff and asked whether he would be interested in appearing in a special “Tumblr Tuesday” feature on the staff blog… well, you can imagine what he said!
And this is one of the reasons why Algy’s adventures here on his own blog have been on pause the past couple of weeks… It wasn’t only because his assistant had to work in her garden, although that was true too.
So Algy sends his fluffiest apologies to his loyal followers for the absence of posts during the past couple of weeks, and hopes you will all enjoy this video conclusion to his recent adventures with his dragon friend, which by agreement was premiered @staff and not here on @adventuresofalgy
And he sends his fluffiest thanks and hugs to Loll and Ben
p.s. Algy says be sure to turn the sound up for the video…
It had been an exceptionally long night in the remote land of Patadragonia, as it lay in the deep, deep south of the world and its shortest day was rapidly approaching… And Algy had spent many long, wakeful hours watching the full moon cross the sky and sink down again behind the mountains, while his little dragon friend slept peacefully by his side, apparently undisturbed by the dazzling moonlight.
For a while, when the moon had finally vanished, Algy managed to doze fitfully in the darkness, waking up from time to time to wonder how he would survive in this strange, cold land if the dragon were no longer there to keep him warm, for even in the depths of the night the fiery creature glowed with a modest green heat, which was sufficient to ward off the bitter cold of the Patadragonian plains.
But then finally, after what had seemed to Algy more like many days than many hours, the sky slowly began to change colour again, and in a matter of minutes the mountain tops had started to glow with the luminous pink and blue colours of the Patadragonian dawn.
As the light grew stronger, his little dragon friend stirred by his side and looked sleepily up at the colourful sky, and Algy murmured:
Still half asleep, I sought the hill and found My vantage place, then stood a moment there To probe the wind for some familiar sound; But no vibration moved along the air, And I learned nothing that I did not know From the far east’s faint conglomerate glow.
I asked the stars, what destiny awaits Beyond this dark incalculable night? … And suddenly, incredibly, the gates Of morning opened to approaching light; Then, somewhere near, a bird began to sing — And my heart heard the whole world listening.
[Algy is quoting the poem Dawn Vigil by the 20th century poet Carl John Bostelmann.]
Algy and his little green dragon friend were feeling the debilitating effects of their long and arduous flight across the plains of Patadragonia, and they agreed that they could travel no further that night.
So once the excitement of the magical shooting star had passed, they simply settled down in the longest patch of dry grass they could find nearby, and snuggled up together to wait out the long, cold night.
Before long, a magnificent full moon glided silently up from behind the mountain tops and gradually flooded the landscape with its ghostly luminescence. The dragon seemed blithely impervious to the bright light and was soon rumbling happily in its sleep, but Algy found that he simply could not fall asleep on such a white night. So, hugging the dragon tightly for warmth, he half dozed in the moonlight, sometimes wondering where he would go if the dragon set off to join a circus, and sometimes reciting poetry quietly to himself:
The Moon was but a Chin of Gold A Night or two ago— And now she turns Her perfect Face Upon the World below—
Her Forehead is of Amplest Blonde— Her Cheek—a Beryl hewn— Her Eye unto the Summer Dew The likest I have known—
Her Lips of Amber never part— But what must be the smile Upon Her Friend she could confer Were such Her Silver Will—
And what a privilege to be But the remotest Star— For Certainty She take Her Way Beside Your Palace Door—
Her Bonnet is the Firmament— The Universe—Her Shoe— The Stars—the Trinkets at Her Belt— Her Dimities—of Blue—
[Algy is quoting the poem The Moon was but a Chin of Gold by the 19th century American poet Emily Dickinson.]
