The Yaffles’ Summer That Was.

"We are all two sides of a single entity, each ourselves one by one." Clever Yaffle B

“We are all two sides of a single entity, each ourselves one by one.” Clever Yaffle B

Throughout the long Summer months – that seemingly fly-by in hindsight – a pair of Yaffles have been hard at it – hammering away at the woodwork of a knotty problem – stopping only to listen – for grubs and the occasional sound of falling trees…

Gggggrrrrrrrrkkkkkkkkk. Something about Dartmoor

‘The Yaffles’ set about the task of the knotty problem from opposite sides of a shared but expansive trunk that physically separated them from each other’s sight and earshot for almost a lifespan.  For many a long year – the elder, über male Yaffle – ‘Yaffle B’ – had continuously knocked on wood but few it seemed had listened to him – until one day the ever-intuitive female Yaffle – ‘Yaffle A’ – picked up his worldly vibrations. Together but separately they continued to peck-a-way at their individual holes – as two arteries in the pulsing heart of an Evergreen tree of knowledge. 

Through constant ggggrrrrrrkkkkkk, brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr, peckpeckpeckpeck at the woodwork – the Yaffles enjoyed a breakthrough in early Spring 2017.  They connected with each other via an invisible green energy that shifts and manifests itself around the Globe.  ‘Yaffle A’ senses ‘Emilia Borealis’ – whilst ‘Yaffle B’ through years of steadfast diligence – knows her ‘simply’ as EB. 

All Summer the pair of dedicated Yafflers enjoyed much laffin’ n cacklin’ – plus exhilarating and undulating swoops through the lofty green canopy they inhabited in a virtual sense.  On several occasions they ruffled each other’s feathers too!  For seven whole months – the Yaffles were sworn to secrecy – to each other and to one cause – through a continuous and intensive round of yaffle-scribblings that to’d and fro’d – and flowed between the them. 

Two-hundred and fourteen days later – one single ‘Yaffle-darling’ – or ‘Yaffling’ for short – has been given a renewed lease of life.  The ‘Yaffling’ is an egg of three parts – individually called ‘Yafflettë’ – and although technically the golden egg is still to be hatched – it magically fledged with virtual wings a week ago today – on the 10th October 2017 – to a faraway place in the Northern Hemisphere – where it will continue to incubate and grow Ever stronger.  By Green light and Amber fire – the Yaffling egg will be kept at just the right heat throughout the long, cold Winter months ahead…

At home and miles apart – The Yaffles too have entered sleep mode – independently going about their daily lives – whilst quietly anticipating the birthday of their darling bonneted babe – who is hopefully due around the corner of the coming year.  

2018 will see an emergence of a single entity – in three parts – each one determined by the tricolour plumage of the Picus viridis¹ – a bird that knows when He – or She – knows!  The largest Yafflettë is already fixed in Vermillion Red, the smallest Yafflettë is shaded in tones of White and Black – whilst the middle Yafflettë is eternally Evergreen.  

Apologies if the above Yafflin seems bafflin to those who are not in the Yaffle know – but hopefully one day it will all make reasonable sense!!!  One hopes… 

Heading into Winter – the virtual wood is much quieter – apart that is from the sound of the wind’s song moving across the forest floor.  The summer-long sweet hammerings from the canopy have all but ceased – yet the silence seems all the more deafening – now that the Yaffles’ task is done. 

Single Yaffle. Something about Dartmoor

Signing off the Yaffle way. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX…………

Footnotes –

  1. Picus viridis – Green Woodpecker – or Yaffle. 
  2. Figures: The single Yaffle carved in wood – perches on my sideboard – and heart – as a constant reminder lest I should forget – the unforgettable, the indefatigable, Ever unflappable ‘Yaffle B’.

3 thoughts on “The Yaffles’ Summer That Was.

  1. ”’gollygosh dear YAFFLE, it’s a sweet and sweetly told story. A fairy tale with nerves of steel, like all great tales. Time was, this Yaffle may have raised dreary eyebrows at the idea of a fairy tale. Completely wrong. The fairies of whom Fata Morgana is one, are the Fates who rule our lives. Happy the tree whose trunk brought these Yaffles together. The greenness of their name, their nature, and universe, fill this yaffle with joy. Over and out, and thank you again dear Yaffle: from Yaffle B with love…xxxx

    ps And I see that Laurence Whistler is spelt as it is spelt in the first message, but at its ending, conflated with the wild man of the Nottingham woods with a w, a seeker after the best fairy tales he could find… ever, Yaffle B

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