Eight Rhymes without Reasons! Four Stories for the Seasons!

By Susan Anthony-Tolbert

In the first part of this book, there are eight short, fantasy vignettes written in rhyme, whose main "actors" are a variety of animal characters: a rabbit; a cat; a goose and a moose; an owl; a skunk; a beaver and a groundhog; a pigeon as well as a plant character named Willy the Wonderful Willow. Themes are set in current times. These rhymed stories celebrate friendship, love, good will and some adventure. The main character (or characters) faces a challenge that they meet with determination whether it is a stolen Easter; lights-out at Halloween; saving a friend from being late for an important appointment; or ripped from their garden home. The stories present a feel-good atmosphere to the reader without being goody-goody or sugary. In various presentations by the author, these pieces have been described as: "sweet and endearing," "positive and delightful," "lovely, clever and very readable," and "well-crafted." Because of their warm reception, the author was encouraged to place them on a platform available to a wider range of readers.
The second part of the book contains four stories: one about a flying purple pig; another about a harp that talks as well as plays music; a third about a magical Christmas pony; and the last about a crab with a friendly and philosophical attitude. Along with the main character whether pig, harp, pony or crab there are young persons as well as adults involved in the story. These young persons are between the ages of five to thirteen. Each story has some adventure and even a little mystery but again they celebrate friendship, love, and good will. Though written for middle school children, all ages seem to enjoy them. These stories as well as the rhymes in the first part of the book are for the young as well as the young at heart. They have found warm acceptance by many adults who feel that they are a respite from the harsh times of modern life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jan 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9781667888132

Book preview

The poems, rhymes and stories in this book are the creative work of this author and are protected by copyright. (Winter 2023). None of them or any part thereof may be copied or used without expressed written permission of the author. All clipart used inside this book and on the covers was found in the Public Domain.

ISBN: 978-1-66-788813-2

Dedication:

To all my animal companions over the years: cats, horses, and dogs. What happiness you have brought to my life!

To all those creatures that visited places around my home and farm and gave me such joy in watching them.

To my husband, Dorian Tolbert, who supports my writing and all my projects with such willingness and a good heart and who always helps with our animal companions.

To my life-long and long-term friends, all animal lovers: Genny Lalli-Morgan; Victor Gramigna-Robertson; Margery Miller;  Charlotte Selenski; Spence Gibbins; Don Horton; Keith Harancher; Bud and Carolyn Disney and Joan Ziejewski.

Table of Contents

Introduction to Eight Rhymes without Reasons:

Rhyme One: Willy the Wonderful Willow

Rhyme Two: The Friendship of the Moose and the Goose

Rhyme Three: The Cat Who Thought He Was a Clock

Rhyme Four: Early the Owl

Rhyme Five: Dunk the Skunk and the Thanksgiving Gift

Rhyme Six: The Beaver and the Groundhog: A Christmas Story

Rhyme Seven: Atomo the Easter Bunny

Rhyme Eight: Paula, the Perfectly Pleasing Pigeon

Introduction to the Four Stories for All Seasons:

STORY ONE: And the Purple Pig Played Piccolo

Chapter One: The Arrival

Chapter Two: Settling In

Chapter Three: The Meeting

Chapter Four: Big Plans

Chapter Five: New Skills

Chapter Six: The Science Fair

Chapter Seven: The Poem

Chapter Eight: The Robbery

Chapter Nine: The Search

Epilogue:

Story Two: Fanny-Grace, Herself the Harp

Chapter One: Fanny-Grace Herself

Chapter Two: A New Friend

Chapter Three: The Secret

Chapter Four: More about Celtic Harps

Chapter Five: An Unexpected Opportunity

Chapter Six: Practice and More Practice and Then!

Chapter Seven: The Harp Held Captive

Chapter Eight: Somewhat Back to Normal for Bridget

Chapter Nine: Being on Exhibition

Chapter Ten: Bridget’s Life in New York City

Chapter Eleven: Fanny-Grace Prepared for Display

Chapter Twelve: Fanny-Grace Discovered

Chapter Thirteen: The Performance

Chapter Fourteen: Making Plans

Chapter Fifteen: The Rehearsal

Chapter Sixteen: The Escape

Chapter Seventeen: Going Home

Story Three: Snow Prince: The Magical Christmas Pony

Chapter One: Holiday Beginnings

Chapter Two: Writing a History Paper

Chapter Three: The Discovery

Chapter Four: The Plan

Chapter Five: The Hiding

Chapter Six: The Sweet Secret

Chapter Seven: The Storm

Chapter Eight: The Rescue

Chapter Nine: The Storm’s Ending

Chapter Ten: Snickers Missing

Chapter Eleven: Explanations Offered

Chapter Twelve: Christmas Eve in the Bank Barn

Chapter Thirteen: Almost Christmas Day

Epilogue:

Story Four: Keeokee: The Beautiful Swimmer

Introduction:

Chapter One: The Beginning

Chapter Two: The Broken Promise

Chapter Three: The Separation

Chapter Four: Helping a Friend

Chapter Five: Friends Forever

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Introduction to Eight Rhymes without Reasons:

        Ever since I began caring for my horses, dogs and cats which I do very, very early in the morning at my farm, I have carried on quite the conversations with them. I have told them animal and plant stories in addition to some of my political and philosophical commentaries. They have always seemed to enjoy the rhymes in my stories (not so much the commentaries) and so the rhymes without reasons began.

I have no delusions or illusions that my rhymes are great poetry or even good limericks. They are not intended for critical review. However, people to whom I have sent them or who have read them find them enjoyable. So, my purpose in printing them was to share them with as many readers as I could: readers who might find them soothing and pleasing. I hope that they offer some relaxation from the daily grinds we face and the negative news all around us. If they make someone smile, I will be happy with my sharing.

Some might ask from where the characters in my rhymes actually came. Though the rhymed stories are obviously fiction, the actual animal characters and the willow tree are real. If the table of contents is examined, the names of my characters can be seen. A brief explanation of each follows. 

        Willy the Willow grows in our garden at our farm. He is actually a weeping pussy willow tree.  He provides wonderful pussy-willows in the fall which we use in bouquets for our home and as gifts to our friends. I have often imagined what he might do if he would walk around the farm.

        The moose is an animal I saw at a wild life park years ago. Her friend, Minnie, the goose, belonged to a friend of mine. She had a wonderful life as a beloved pet and was quite the character.

        The ‘cat who thought he was a clock’ is an experience most cat guardians have. All our cats including my current gray-blue cat, Cooper, are quite competent at sounding the times: feeding time, treat time, play time and cuddle time. So the story of the cat and the clock came very easily to mind.   

        Early, the owl, hoots and has hooted many mornings around four as I enter the barn. I named him, Early, because his arrival each morning is quite early even for me. He sits on our tractor and I think he listens and has listened to my chatter.  He is a very large owl. I suspect a Great Northern and what is amazing is that he can land, take-off and fly without making a sound with his wings. At times he brings crayfish from the creek and has quite a feast in the bed of my husband’s pick-up truck. I can hear him pounding about.

Dunk, a skunk, actually lives behind our house and makes himself visible (not to mention his olfactory presence, especially during the spring, but at other times as well). He really likes the area around our bird-feeder and has been known to occasionally chase squirrels, birds and even a deer from what he considers his feeding place. He put quite a fright in a young deer that made the mistake of trying to smell him at the bird feeder. Dunk did not spray but he chased that deer with the look of I-Mean-Business.

Our farm abounds with ground hogs. In the past, I have had a Mama groundhog bring her babies and sit on the front porch while I practiced my harp. They are very neat to watch. The only care that must be taken is that they don’t dig holes in our pastures which could result in a horse injuring a leg or worse. We feel that this vigilance is a small price to pay for how delightful it is to watch them run and stand and play. Since our farm borders on a creek, we do have beavers. They often damn-up the creek and then wild life management does a beaver re-location. When they are gone, we miss them but one thing is for sure: they return and return quite quickly.

Atomo, the bunny, took up residence at our farm in Maryland.  He was a very large wild rabbit, and the power of his hind legs as he ran and sprang was amazing: hence the name (yes, I named him). He would sit for long periods of time watching me clean stalls; feed the horses; and sort the hay.  Our barn cat at the time, Puff , didn’t seem to care. There were never any altercations. Atomo even sat at the edge of the ring and watched me ride. My dressage horse, Baroque, was a great favorite of his. Atomo would sit outside the Dutch doors of his stall and groom himself or fall asleep. He stayed with us for the better part of the year. One day he gave me a long look as I rode my horse and ran down the lane. Unfortunately, we never saw him again but have wonderful memories of his time at our farm.

Paula was a homing pigeon or racing pigeon that arrived at our farm one spring afternoon. She moved into our barn. Since she was not banded we had no way of contacting her owners and though we tried to ask people in our area if they knew of anyone missing a pigeon, we had no luck. We fed her and soon Paula became a presence in the barn.  She was a neat bird. Every afternoon she would sit on a tall stall partition and watch me clean the horse stalls. As I moved, she moved from stall to stall. She’d come when I called her as I put out her feed. Paula stayed for about two months. One day I watched her fly circles around the farm as she had often done before but this time after circling she headed off in a straight line to the North. I was sad because I thought for sure I’d never see her again. That was not true. Each spring for the next 3 years, Paula would return on the exact same day she had arrived earlier. She would sit in the barn and watch me for a short time and then fly off. But on these visits, I noted she was banded. So I felt very happy that Paula indeed had a home and a guardian.

        Over the years, there have been other animals whose stories I’ve written. Herbie, the crow, actually a most intelligent crow, gave me hours of wonderful observations. His story is written in both English and French. I also was fortunate enough to have a friend with a pig whom I got to know quite well. I tried to capture my pleasure in knowing that pig in my book, And the Pig Played Piccolo, which is also available in French and English.  In the future, I hope to write about our Mama Fox. After she lived at our farm for several years, I never thought of foxes in the same way. Not only was she beautiful but she would carry two eggs in her mouth without cracking them; turn off my video recorder if she cared not to be on film; give her kits a tour of my barn and follow my dog and me on daily walks. I always respected that she was a wild animal and never crossed a boundary but I so enjoyed her company.

I hope you enjoy the eight rhymes in this book as much as I have enjoyed writing them.

Rhyme One: Willy the Wonderful Willow

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Willy the Willow will win your heart, no matter, if you want to part with it, or hold it for keeps. He’s a little guy, a willow that leaps, though a tree, who grows no higher than two foot-three, destined to spend his life seeing only the tops of your knees. He lives in a rock garden, near the home and closer, much closer by far, to the hearts of brother and sister, Betty and Bart, and their Mom and Dad, Sadie and Chad. He loves when he loves, deeply, completely and soon upon meeting.

        If you’re gentle and kind, the deal is done for Willy, who envisions for you, the finest of fun, ever and true. He dislikes when he dislikes, deeply, completely and soon upon meeting. That deal, too, for Willy is done and you’ll see his wrath in the red hot sun. His people, his friends to all ends, will Willy the Willow bend, to protect and defend, no matter the cost. Different than most of his fellows, a tree who can move not so much at a walk but  rather a slide, a slip, a slither with a whirl and a twirl and a tweak thrown in for good measure. He’s Betty’s and Bart’s little treasure.

        Once, when his home with Sadie and Chad was threatened by thieves in the night, he moved cautiously near without so much as a light. He hit them with willows so feathery smooth that the thieves were quite frightened by the sight of a willow that waltzed, rather than a willow that fought.

        Willy the Willow will make you smile with expressions meant to beguile. He’s friends with Alice the Cat and with Greg the adorable Bat. He talks news with a Beaver, named Frog.  And does math with Zippo, the dog, who sleeps near the log on a mattress of reed, since rescued by Chad, from life as a victim of greed. In looks, Willy’s more like a troll, than a graceful willowy soul. No matter, cuz Willy will tell you, at length, in a flash, that looks matter not, not even a dash.

        Not just a willow in kind, but special, a type, quite tricky to find: a Weeper, a Willow, a tree with catkins so gray … a Pussy Willow, they say. He’s small, a cutie by name, but hardy and hale in his game. With leaves in the summer and furry buds in the spring, golly-by-gee, shouted Bart, with such glee, he is one of a kind. 

        Now, Willy who listened intently to all Brother Bart read contently, objected not at all to Alice the Cat, to kittens with mittens, or to paws filled with claws.  But Willy did cringe, as he’d done in the past, at the word, weep.  It simply gave him the creeps. It made him seem wispy, washy and weak.

        For years, life in his garden was filled with such joy. Why he even watched as Bart grew tall for a boy who loved plants more than a collection of toys. Things were fine as Willy blossomed and bloomed. At times, though he had a serious side when he talked life with Betty and Bart and Grandpa Clyde. Both children knew Willy the Willow would always be wonderful, wild, and willful but willing and forever a child.

        One summer, one short week, a rest: the family vacationed out West. Aunt Sue came with a bang and a rattle to sit for Alice and Zippo. A gardener by trade, she hated the look of Willy and friends, all stuffed in their nook near a deep garden brook. She clearly had no intention of keeping them all. So, she weeded and sorted. New plants did she add, throwing Willy with roots, saying simply too bad, from the land that he loved. Never asking, nor caring how Betty or Bart or Sadie or Chad might think. Quite thrilled with her work, she was gone in a wink. Poor Willy was thrown with all plants she abhorred, near the side of a stream, without caring that Willy was simply adored.

        Back from the Best of the West, Betty and Bart were sick with fear when Willy the Willow was nowhere near. They called his name but nary a sound. Certainly Willy might never be found. The children looked day after day. Even Sadie and Chad took no delay. They searched and scanned just to gain sight, but ever no luck, not even at night.  Aunt Sue left no note, where the plants labeled as trash, might have been stashed. But find him they did, under some junk with dead flowers and trees, next to rocks and dry-up old seeds, tossed cruelly at the base of some weeds. His roots, dry to the touch, had been ripped from the soil. His sweet willows brought to a boil with no water to drink. Betty cried and Bart defied his parents by writing his Aunt. He demanded by letter how to make Willy all better. The family struggled by day and by night to save Willy from his awfully bad blight. The children gave water in sips while delivering plant food for Willy to thrive. Little by little, Willy survived.

        Soon at the bus stop, near a very large Fell, Willy would wait precisely at four, just like before. With the bus out of sight, so no one would fright, he would slide, slip, slither and pace beside Betty and Bart back to his space, so deep in their hearts. And in their lives as well as at home, Willy will stay, never to roam, never to part.

Rhyme Two: The Friendship of the Moose and the Goose

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Minnie the Moose and Gertie the Goose were friends from the start, two so different in form, yet never would part. Whatever they did, they carried this fellowship deep in their hearts.  They didn’t always agree but rarely got mad. They shared fun times with glee and hard times together were never so bad.

        Minnie the Moose and Gertie the Goose met, when both were turned loose by owners who cared not a whit for two pets, unable to cope, left in a forest, without any hope. For years, they struggled to eat and survive, fearing they’d be found more dead than alive. They’d simply grown too large! And their families could no longer take charge.  Someone had tried to make a pet, in the case of Minnie the Moose, of a creature, let’s not forget, who was meant to be wild, and that puts it mild.

        Oh, the families meant well by letting them loose: fearing any Animal Shelter might put an end to their lives, and they’d simply not be. The families so wrongly believed that animals once homed, could so easily be freed. Lucky for Gertie the Goose and Minnie the Moose a kind soul found them hungry and loose.  She transported them quickly to a Wilderness Farm, where workers saw sweetly their charms. The pair was fed and sheltered and spared much harm. They were cared for with love, along with kitties, puppies and a sweet singing dove.

Minnie loved to skate but can you imagine an ice