Perhaps, or maybe I should say most likely, you haven’t heard of Wallgnarps. Grandad came from London, England 60 years ago. He’s been telling his children and grandchildren all about Wallgnarps ever since. Well actually he’s been telling anyone who will listen, be it his children, grandchildren, or the unsuspecting young woman sitting next to him on the plane.

Wallgnarps, Grandad will tell you, are little creatures that hang upside down on the little stonewall laneways throughout England. They are similar to bats in that they hang upside down, fuzzy or I should say furry like a mouse and without the wings. They hang by their tails like American opossums. Some can be the size of a fist, but they can grow larger, to roughly the size of a small melon. It can be rather unnerving to come across one, especially if you have never seen one before.

Imagine yourself walking casually down an old country lane in Devon, it’s a beautiful sunny day. Who am I kidding, it’s more likely gray and cloudy and threatening to rain – a lovely day as I was saying. Imagine, you are strolling down the lane, hugging close to the wall as you go around the curve, you hear the roar of the engine of an oncoming motorist. You don’t want to be hit, the locals have a reputation for speeding down the lanes, so you pause to wait for the old Land Rover to pass.

In that short space of time, before the old jalopy skirts around you, you get a creepy feeling that something is inches from your right shoulder. You don’t want to lose site of the vehicle, but what… is… that… thing? You want to jump away, but if you do you’ll land right in the path of the car barreling down on you.

Really your back should be pressed up against the wall, so Mister Andretti doesn’t run over your feet as he careens down the road. But that thing…? It has huge eyes – dark and piercing, staring you down, and it starts squeaking a high-pitched warning – you’ve come too close. Its fur is a light brown to match the stone wall. Its little clawed feet grasp the wall and its tail is wrapped around the vines of the ivy that climbs and intertwines itself with the blackberry brambles that hang over the wall from the farmer’s fields.

What you don’t know is what it will do? Will it bite? Jump on you? Climb in your hair and scratch your face? Or even worse maybe it has rabies! I really can’t tell you. I’ve never come across one myself. They are so rare.

My father, Grandad, is the only one who really knows. He’s been telling people about them ever since he was roped into being Dungeon Master in a game of D&D back in 1985. And yes, he did tell some poor college student on the plane to lookout for them on her next trip to England!

Original flash fiction essay written by Laura Lane first published in Flash Fiction Friday in 2020

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Somethings just don’t preserve well.

I love fall. I love the colours. I love how the leaves fall from the trees, slowly gliding, twisting and turning and tumbling down to the ground or speeding past me with a gust of wind. I love the accumulation of leaves on the sidewalk or in the gutters so that as I shuffle my feet through them, they almost slow me down. They at least remind me how I let them slow me down on my trudge to and from school each day or how I eagerly looked for piles that were raked into mountains for me to dive into, swim through and when I come up for air and head home,  having telltale red, yellow and orange reminders peeking out of my socks, stuck in my hair and the odd time down my shirt.

I loved collecting as many types of leaves as I could in every colour and size. Big red maple leaves, yellow oak, orangey brown birch and tiny little willow leaves. I wanted them all and I wanted to keep them forever. Some years they were kept in shoe boxes. Other years pressed between pages of the biggest books I could find in the house. But try as I might they inevitably turned brown, dried out and crumbled into brittle pieces of dust. 

That’s why when my dad hit on one more of his great sales ideas, I fell hook line and sinker for it. My dad has a plastic manufacturing company and he hates to throw out plastic or at least let anything go to waste. He’s always looking for ways to use the small cut off pieces that are left over.

So about 10 years ago he looked at the clear acrylic plastic cut offs and he hit on an idea. We would cut them into 3 inch by 3 inch squares then collect the best, brightest and most unique fall leaves, press them to the underside of the squares and adhere them with the end pieces of the plastic tape that the company makes as well. Stick on trivet feet in the four corner and voila – drink coasters. We’d package them as sets of four plus a larger hot pad trivet to match. I came up with the idea to wrap them in the clear cellophane wrapping paper tied with red, orange and yellow ribbon, with a little label attached. We’d offer it to local charities as a fundraising item and 25% of the proceeds going to the charity!

Brilliant idea! I jumped right on that bandwagon. My kids and I headed out the door immediately to collect the best, brightest and most colourful leaves we could find. My dining room table became the assembly line of coaster production.  We were in business!

Okay actually we were in production. In order to be a real business, we needed sales! We found a few unsuspecting friends and family members who were willing to fork over $20 but knocking on doors proved harder than I expected. No local businesses were willing to stock them and as our inventory begin to collect dust through the winter and into the next spring, my carefully chosen bright fall leaves did as they inevitably did in my shoebox, they turned a sad sorry brown no matter what colour they started out. Nature won out again.

I have a few coasters left at home and every time I find one tucked away in the drawer under the window seat or under a stack of magazines I am reminded that some things, most things, like fall leaves are meant to be enjoyed in the moment and not laminated or tucked away in a shoebox.

Original essay by Laura Lane first published in the The Voice of Pelham Column Six in 2020

The post “Fall Foliage” Essay by Laura Lane first appeared on Laura Lane.

Row upon row

                        standing sentinel

wind swept snow covered

            feet firmly rooted

reverent heads bowed to the winter sun

ears stung by bitter cold

            cradled in brittle fingers

                                    hardened casualties of time

Forlorn heroes solemnly maintaining their rank

            fighting against the wind’s forceful blow

            never abandoning fealty sown in the field

a duty planted deep within the tilled soil

bravely thrusting up like new recruits

their sweet prize protected from every element

courageously loyal to the land

the seasons having stolen the victory

harvest is the last relief

Original poem by Laura Lane, First published in the Niagara Community News 2010 and Brock University Unesco Poetry Contest Ebook 2020

The post “Guardians of the Land” poem by Laura Lane first appeared on Laura Lane.

I am the waves

sweeping gracefully across the pond

            tossing the storm swept seas

rolling over the vast ocean

constant like the rising and setting of the sun

pushing with the pull of the moon

I crash upon the rocks during a stormy night

or lap against the lakeshore on a gentle day

I rise to great heights when hit by the force of a quake

or ripple when struck by skimming stones

I tumble over the edges pushed by toy boats in the middle of the tub

I can capsize a handcrafted canoe

            sink a millionaire’s yacht

            or shorn apart a majestic tall ship

My tides cover all in their path and recede to reveal even the tiniest treasures

my sounds can sooth

my strength can drown

my power can be harnessed

I bring excitement to those seeking the thrill

I bring fear to those caught unaware

I bring peace to those seeking solace

I am the waves

Original poem by Laura Lane, First published in the Hamilton Mountain Writers Guild Anthology Volume 3 Arising

The post “I am the Waves” Poem by Laura Lane first appeared on Laura Lane.

I am the wind

pushing you along

            whispering in your ear

ever present

strong and wild then

calm and peaceful

I rustle the leaves as you pass

I make the wind chimes sing for you to hear

I bring coolness and refreshment to you

            on hot steamy nights

I chill you to the bone

            passing through all your layers

on cold winter days

I warn you of impending storms

            and howl for you at night

I make the candle flicker

            and the porch swing sway

I help you glide across the sky

            and push your sails across the seas

I am the wind

Original poem by Laura Lane, First published in the Songs of the Street Poetry Anthology 2002
1st Prize winner in it’s category Songs of the Street Poetry Contest 2002

Now published as an illustrated children’s book by the same name and available at Smashwords.com https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/66637

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