"Hey, fatso. You're wreckin' my home," it jay-ed in a tiny voice.
The pony made no answer, as the bird's tiny words were incomprehensible to his clunky brain.
"Is tiny bug," his snortings boomed.
The pony walked three steps forwards, but the bird remained perched on his snout, its claws bedded in his hairs. He walked five steps backwards (and almost getting towards the tree), but the bird was still blocking his view, staring at him.
"Haw haw haw. Tryin' to say somethin' awfully un-funny, bagpipe-o'-lard. For almost destroyin' my home, here's my gift."
The bird pecked at the hairs of his bulky snout. Such a thing as this caused our poor, sensitive horse to freak out, and buck and kick away at the air, like most horses do, screaming and squealing for help. And as quickly as a mirage, the bird was laughing and fluttering off, delighting at the misery of his equine enemy.
He bucked up and down, around and around, as to ensure that the bird will not block his sights. He looked around, left, and right, and as he turned left again, the bird landed on his snout. Again.
"What's up, fatty? Want some apples? Ya can't have any more, any longer."
The pony snorted and chortled, annoyed that the bird was there to stare and taunt him, squawking and screeching, just to stop him from getting to the apple trees. After all, he wants some tasty apples, no?
What else would he do, then?
He galloped a U-turn towards the tree, shooing the bird as he shook his snout and nose. Then he quickly turned his back away from the tree, and KICKED it!
The tree shook its branches, and down descended a shower of green leaves ... and a rain of delicious, red apples. The pony gleefully grabbed one with his drooling mouth, munching away his prize before trotting back.
However, the bird landed at his snout, and stared at him again. This time, it feels irritated, as to ensure that he will not go out through the white picket fence, and back into his metallic stable ...
"I'm not givin' up pesterin' ya, dodgeball."
Shelby, being determined, shook his head as he galloped back to the stable. But even then, that pesky little blue jay still had not given up pesterin' him. The sight of such a ridiculous display, of Shelby trying to have a moment of peace to eat his grass, interfered constantly by that angry little jay hopping and pecking at his snout (and scratching and tearing his mane), would be temptingly humorous.
Nevertheless, Natalie was also there, chasing the bird away, until it was never seen again. She then nursed any of his wounds, and gave him a fresher apple from the fridge.
On the next morning, Victoria was eating roasted marshmallows with her cousins by the campfire beside the log cabin, deep within the sunlight-pierced eastern Latvian forest. She was still dressed in her white-and-maroon dress, even after a refreshing bath.
Today is Jāņi, which is a public holiday in Latvia (like Līgo before it), where the people are either still celebrating Midsummer, resting after a night of partying, or rushing back home to the cities. In fact, most businesses are closed on those days, so the Hughes had to spend today exploring Jaungulbene, in its holiday-mood peace and quiet. This can also be a second chance, made even better under a sunny day as this.
Already, like Victoria, most of the Hughes and their relative hosts were dressed in traditional costumes, aside from Uncle Ben Aizargi, Peter (his elder son), and good ol' "Grandpa Rick".
It was after a typically-hearty breakfast, when their little adventures with the Aizsargi relatives began. Uncle Ben led the whole family out of their cabin (near forested Lake Ušurs) in his two vans; he drives the first van (for his peaceable family of seven), while Mr. Andrew drives the "guest van" for his family.
Jaungulbene, being a small Latvian town (like most for the moment), would not seem to have many attractions, aside from the usual church, town hall, railway station, and farms (and, for some, an old German-built manor). The relatives' first stop is the same manor from yesterday, the typical hallmark of Teutonic colonials centuries ago. There, the Hughes and their relatives, breathing the fresh summer air, began their storm of pictures, flashing and clicking their cellphones and cameras, posing and standing, before and away from the near-silent walls and halls of the Manor, passing by other families, tour groups, and lonely visitors who would sometimes have a little chat with each other.
Uncle Ben remarked on "how come Mr. Andrew wanted his photographs to be as bland as some olden day's portraits" (contrasting the goofy group pics from the Aizargi), to which the answer is, "I just wanted it to be formal, and classy, however the situation," with a British accent he just keeps on using (despite being from the United States).
Perhaps this can be why his daughter's so grumpy and down, he thought. But all this is a private matter, for now.
The next stops are, after making rounds all over the near-empty streets, with pictures of the little houses, apartments, and trees, basically shops, restaurants, and bars (even though they're all closed, with Uncle Ben explaining about the places he has been), and the post office (and bus station), before heading to the old Lutheran church. More up-and-down pictures ensue, albeit being made more serious by the adults' insistence on respect within the church boundaries, which was totally obeyed without question ...
They afterwards had lunch in an old wooden restaurant, filled with some people who were having their Midsummer break, feasting on a variety of breads (from pīrāgi to Nāc rītā atkal), meats, and steaks, and having some little talks with Uncle Ben's friends and acquaintances.
From the gas station to the youth hostels just off, they later criss-crossed northeast-wards to the smaller Gulbitis. No swans were sighted, flying overhead or otherwise, but there's that logging mill amid that every-time sea of green grass and rows of trees flanking the asphalt and dirt roads and paths, which they had passed through.
Finally, they have reached Gulbene, that bigger town ahead. There's a whole lotta sightseeing (and some more pics here and there) to do, guided by Uncle Ben. Yet, because most attractions are closed today, the Hughes will visit there again tomorrow. Nevertheless, they spent the evening buying some groceries and souvenirs in some of the few corner stores that were still open.
On the way back, they passed by preparations of more bonfires by the countryside. As they reached home, they had one more "waitings-for-some-bath" (and TV while waiting), another hearty dinner (with some salads), one last Midsummer bonfire dance (which was smaller and shorter than the original) ending at around 8:30, and their own time for themselves.
Now, to the final hours of their day: Uncle Ben was out with his wife and two of his teenage kids to celebrate Midsummer to their neighbors, Dan and Lisa were playing a board game of "Scotland Yard", Grandpa Rick had already went to bed, Dad was stargazing (and checking his e-mail), Mom was watching a documentary on TV, and the bros were drawing, sketching, and playing a card-and-dice game ("Anser-et-Vulpecula") with big sis Victoria as they watched and chatted with Dan and Lisa.
Sometimes, Victoria slipped out, and quietly played her own composed music with an old accordion at first, and then from a piano; sometimes her bros and cousins requested her to play some music, with Dan filming her songs, and Lisa learning some songs from her, borrowing Vicky's songbook. She later adapts her favorite sad songs and classics into a kokle she bought in a store.
She had quietly taken many photos during the day, having enjoyed the fascinating oldness of the green, blue, white, and red all around her that is a typical Latvian town, village, or forest; or the great, grand grayness of the castles, mansions, and churches. Or sometimes she gets some interesting trivia from her cousins and bros (and some new friends here and there), by talking or SMS on her iPhone. Or she gets back to her video games on her Roundel 78.
But such appreciation of her music lifted her spirits way more than these three combined; Victoria strongly loves music since her younger days, and although she loves to play music to herself as much as she loved to play her first-person shooters online, this not-so-boring day became much better.
(Updated on 11 November, A. D. 2013.)
(Updated on 23 June, A. D. 2014.)
(Updated on 24 June, A. D. 2014.)
(Updated on 25 June, A. D. 2014.)
(Updated on 28 November, A. D. 2014.)
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