Do you know the story of “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod” (aka “The Dutch Lullaby”) who sailed off in a wooden shoe? It is a nursery rhyme by Eugene Field that was first published in 1889. I loved that story as a song when I was younger and thought I had it in writing. When I finally looked for it this morning, I realized I had mistakenly remembered it as being by Robert Louis Stevenson, but the glorious world of information told me differently.
What got me thinking about that poetic song at 5:30 in the morning you ask? Well it went this way. At 4:30am I awoke and made my way to the bathroom being sure to avoid the spider and the moth I left on the hall floor from the night before (the ants seemed to be enjoying them). The minute I sat down, Buddy brought me a moth. It’s as if he heard me, or saw the light on, grabbed the nearest thing and dashed through the door to bring me the gift. The joy he has in presenting these things and pouncing with each recapture is quite endearing. Even in the bathroom and at 4:30 in the morning.
I’ve never seen him catch the things outdoors, but I did once see him leap into the air and catch a fly in his mouth. He’s really a thing of beauty this Siamese-Lynx cross.
Back in bed, with old mister Magilla giving me the come feed me stare, I began to read. Wait, she still hasn’t explained about the story. It’s coming…
I was aiming for a 6:30 or 7:30 rising and thought I could drift off and get a few more winks. When what to my wondering ears did appear, but the sound of squeaking and soft thuds. With only the light of my bedside lamp and the Kindle in my hand, I could not see anything going on. That is when the thought of “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod” came to me. I pulled my arms and legs under the covers, put down the book, and thought about the bed floating in the sky. If I did not cross the borders of the edge, I could stay in a place where there were no hunting cats tossing squeaking critters. There was nothing to catch and rescue at such an early hour and now I knew that, if I tried very hard, I might nod off as the story was meant to do for children.
It was a wonderful state of being, lying there imagining there was nothing beyond the frontier of the bed. My mind really began to create, and I so should put a writing basket at bedside. Although, I will admit that writing by hand is not as easy for flow as a computer, and I’ve never gotten comfortable with continuity when dictating to a recorder. But they were great stories in those moments in the bed, as it sailed into the darkness and passed by the moon. Such is the nature of a waking, dreamlike state. I did, in fact, drift off to sleep.
Sailed on a river of crystal light, Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The old moon asked the three.
For some reason, all cats have enjoyed doing their tossing and chasing in the bathroom. Many times my gift has been ceremoniously placed in the shower. I don’t know if it’s the enclosed space, the somewhat echoing sound, or the proximity to the bedroom of “she who shall receive the gift.” The door is three feet from the bedroom door, so I always hear what is going on but today am staying in my trundle-bed, hoping my two little eyes would shut and my little head nod off. The squeaking had stopped so I knew no rescue was possible. It did, perhaps, mean more of a cleaning job but that could wait until 6:30 or 7:30, I thought. Thinking of the nursery rhyme had done the job. I stayed in the misty sea and drifted off for another hour.
Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one’s trundle-bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken,
Blynken,
and Nod.
At 6:30am, the day broke in. After getting up and dressed, I went to search for the poem. It has not yet been found. I did find the Stevenson poem that resembles it: My Bed is a Boat from A Child’s Garden of Verse published in 1940 with illustrations by Fern Bisel Peat. Not sure if that version was still in stores in the 50s or it belonged to another before me. No inscription and it’s in pretty good shape. Another story about going to sleep and the bed being refuge. I guess I enjoy the idea of bed a kingdom, boat, or fort.
At night, I go on board and say
Good-night to all my friends on shore;
I shut my eyes and sail away –
And see and hear no more.
The bathroom was also in “pretty good shape.” A few feathers. The throw rugs in a tussle as they always are after cat gymnastics. It seems that Buddy, the glorious hunter, had not been able to present his gift so he took it back outside. That is a first and something to be encouraged! While doing reconnaissance, I scooped up the two moths and three spiders I’d been too lazy to deal with -- this morning’s moth still having some life to it -- and set out to find the words. I passed yesterday’s dragonfly gift, frozen in it’s last pose, another addition to the nature collection. I still don’t know if he catches these (it is the second) or finds them dead or dying. They are in very good form when he drops them in front of me. They only live a few months as an adult, and I have found many a specimen in my yard over the years, so I suspect they are near their end when he triumphs over their ability to fly.
All in all, it was quite the three-hour adventure from 4:30 to 7:30am. The insects are cleaned up, the few feathers shaken out of the rugs, the cat given his princely due (rubbing, loving, and feeding) with grand purring in return. Now, I think I’ll peruse my many storybooks as I really thought I had a book with “Wynken, Blynken, and Nod” somewhere. If you want your own stroll down memory lane, here is a link to the poem: https://poets.org/poem/wynken-blynken-and-nod
