Clouds and Fog

To most people clouds are just clouds and fog is just a nuisance.

But for Artisans in Residence at Malory Tennyson’s Cloudbank Cabin for Arthurian Studies, the Cloudbank and the Fog Lake can hold great significance.

There are prompting hints to be found scattered around the cabin; from the ‘Clouds in my coffee’ cloud pictures on the mugs, to the cloud pictures on the pens in the jar on the writing desk, to the picture titled Cloud Camelot with its exhortation to ‘Search the clouds’.

Little Plump Jo, the current Artisan in Residence, was no stranger to seeing beautiful expressions of God’s love in the clouds. Sometimes it was the way the light shone through the clouds, giving silver linings to dark clouds or golden crepuscular rays shining down like an inverted crown. Sometimes it was the amusement of the cloud creatures produced by pareidolia effects. And sometimes it was the sheer beauty, encouragement and inspiration of clouds that resembled angels, eagles or doves.

Little Plump Jo’s companions, the five overexcitable Dabrowski Dogs loved cloud watching as much as she did.

Psycho Motor Dabrowski was happy to bounce and bark and run up and down; either hoping to jump high enough to catch a cloud or to run fast enough to outrun them.

Intellectual spent his time identifying each type of cloud.

“Cirrus, stratus, cumulus” he said. “We need to come out again when the weather is bad in order to identify nimbus and cumulo-nimbus.

Sensual Dabrowski was very appreciative of the beauty of the clouds; but also was quite sensitive to the differences in atmospheric pressure with different weather conditions. He was fairly sure he would not want to come out again when the weather was bad. He really hated the wet dog smell!

Emotional Dabrowski loved watching the clouds; but did find her moods fluctuated with the different types of cloud and the varying colours. Some made her feel light and happy (quite tirra-lirra); some made her feel wistful and nostalgic and yet others caused her to feel unsettled and anxious.

But it was little Imaginational Dabrowski who was most completely in his element!

He happily engaged in pareidolia. He gave a running commentary of the visions he saw.

“Rows and flows of angel hair and ice cream castles in the air! And look at that big one – that is a dragon and look, that one is a bear- and there is a leopard and a lion. And a lamb – a lamb lying down with the lion!”

“And there is a Ferris wheel; which also looks like the Round Table and there is the Holy Grail! And there is a dove or maybe it is an eagle or maybe even be an angel.”

And the Fog Lake. Whenever the low hanging fog settled in the valley below Cloudbank Cabin, it created the Fog Lake which gave the illusion that it was possible to board a boat and sail away on it. The particular stream which at times flowed into the Fog Lake below Cloudbank Cabin was called Arthuriana. The images which rose from the Fog Lake, usually bore some connection to the legends of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.

Cloudbank Cabin was situated ideally as a lookout point for the Cloudbank and the Fog Lake. The occupants of the cabin could sit on the porch and watch the passing procession of the Arthurian stories. As if by coincidence, often the procession would come to a halt in the Fog Lake in front of Cloudbank Cabin at just the point in the epic which the artisan was considering at that moment.

In the past some of the Artisans in Residence in Cloudbank Cabin had connected the hints in the cabin to the value of viewing the action in the Cloudbank and Fog Lake. However the activity had never been more than a passing show. There had been no connection between the characters in the Fog Lake and the artisans in the cabin.

And in the past Malory Tennyson had never been able to have contact with the artisans in Cloudbank Cabin. He would jump up and down in frustration in his own dimension.

“No, No, No!” he would yell. “Lancelot is handsome not ugly; and he has coal black curls and dark eyes, not blonde hair and green or grey eyes. See the poems The Lady of Shalott and Lancelot and Elaine written under my penname of Alfred Lord Tennyson.

This time was different. Because Little Plump Jo’s Dabrowski Dogs could hear a different range of sound, they could actually hear Malory Tennyson’s rants. In addition the dogs, especially Imaginational Dabrowski, were so adept at interpreting the scenes in the Fog Lake that the characters began to interact with them. The characters started to visit the cabin to tell their stories and help Jo to fill out character profile cards for them.

All these advantages should have ensured that Jo would be able to write the perfect epic Arthurian retelling. However Jo had procrastinated and dithered and had not immediately established firm plotlines. And, like actors in a long running play, all the characters came with attitudes toward their ascribed roles. And some were not in a hurry to restage their particular adventure for Jo’s benefit.

It was gruff, dependable, Sir Bors who pointed out (shaking his fist at the cabin porch viewers) that every time the artisans in the cabin wrote or painted their story, the characters had to re-enact it. Sir Bors would always faithfully perform his part at the right time. The same could not be said for his illustrious cousin, Sir Lancelot du Lac, who often vanished for long periods, necessitating Bors to search for him. Lancelot nearly always arrived belated and breathless to play his part after promptings from Bors. Sir Bors assumed that his own steadfast reliability and commitment to turning up had been part of the reason he had been granted success in the Quest of the Holy Grail.

Not all the characters shared Sir Bors unquestioning acceptance and willingness to perform their role. Little Plump Jo was retelling the tragic tale of Lancelot and Elaine of Astolat. For Lancelot it was one of his least favourite experiences. It showed his character and motives in a very bad light. His pride and its downfall, his deception of his friend the king, his love affair with the queen, his discourtesy to Elaine and her heart breaking end – it was all there in that story. And then there was the physical pain. One can only survive a lancehead embedded in the spleen so many times!

Lancelot had no wish to fight for his life one more time. (And Jo had not yet done sufficient research into medieval wound care to write a lifesaving scenario anyway).

But it was Elaine of Astolat who took the strongest course of action. She informed Little Plump Jo plainly that she would no longer be known as Elaine the Fair, Elaine the Lovely, The Lily Maid of Astolat; nor as The Lady of Shalott. She would not be nursing Lancelot for months on end and then dying of unrequited love. She would not be floating down to Camelot on the richly bedecked barge with the letter and lily in her hands; no matter how many painters were queueing to paint her portrait. From now on she would be directing her own path and should be addressed as Lady Charlotte-Elaine, entrepreneur owner of Charlotte’s Web Weaving.

So Jo had finished her first book on a cliff hanger. Would Lancelot survive or die in the poplar grove? Would Elaine succeed in her new life and what adventures would it hold for her? To what degree were the characters actions, natures and motives pre-ordained?

That left her without any solid plotlines or timelines as she began her second book. She decided to follow Elaine in her adventures and let the story unfold.

So the connection, the portal, the gateway to the Arthurian legends had been there all along in plain sight in the Cloudbank and the Fog Lake. Now that the portal threshold had been crossed by the characters and the connection to Cloudbank Cabin established, what implications would there be for retellings by future Artisans in Residence?