House on the prairie
Once upon a time, there was a house on a prairie of green, green grass. The house was built of timber and on the front hangs a wind-chime, and on windy days you can hear the music of the wind playing throughout the field. The fences guard a very beautiful garden, where herbs and vegetables grow, and when the season is right the children will help to harvest them. Before the house was a wide stretch of pristine river, sacred to the family and neighbours. Inside, there was a fireplace; routine story-telling and music playing take place by the hearth.
A large family lived in the house on the prairie. The father was a carpenter; all the furniture in the house was built by him; it was no surprise to find a random note of love under the leg of a chair or in the joint of a shelf where one wood met another. The mother woke up earlier than any members of the family to whip up whole-wheat pancakes and fill the jar with fresh milk, and prepare cornmeal cakes for teatime. The older children rose early enough to have breakfast with their father, and left for school noisily with their rambunctious behaviour. When the house is still and quiet the mother would wake her youngest daughter up, help her dress and serve her breakfast.
There was much to do around the house. Rid the shelves of dust, keeping the floor clean, cleaning the dishes and washing the clothes, drying sheets on a warm day and purging weeds from the garden. Just when the mother could take a breather, the children will be back from school and she will have to prepare dinner: oatmeal was a family favourite, sometimes sprinkled with cinnamon, sometimes garnished with herbs.
Evenings were relatively quiet. The young ones would have tire out by now. At times they would occupy the piano and the harp and the flute and the goatskin drum; a chorus of melodious notes filled the house - lilt sopranos and strong baritones. Most of the time, though, they gathered by the hearth and listened to tales of enchantments and sorceries, of princes and damsels in distress, of beasts and fairy folks. The mother and father were both skilled storytellers. The days ended with the children being tucked in bed, one by one, and wishes of good nights and blessings were said.