Monday, 20 August 2012
A short story on a rainy Monday morning . . .
It was a cold damp day early in the autumn of 1904. The waiting room at the bus station smelled old and musty . . . it was very cool in there, and people huddled together in an attempt to stay warm while they waited for their buses. A little boy snuggled up so close to a woman in the long gray coat sitting next to him, that everyone in the station felt sure that he belonged to her. At one point, he accidentally dug his muddied shoes into the broadcloth skirt of his neighbor on the other side. She leaned over to the woman in the long gray coat and said . . .
"Excuse me, please. Could you please make your little boy square himself around? He is soiling my skirt with his muddy shoes."
The woman in gray coloured a little and nudged the boy away from her.
"My boy?" she exclaimed, "He's certainly not mine! I thought he was yours!"
The small lad looked uneasy. He was such a little fellow that he was quite unable to touch his feet to the floor beneath his seat, so he stuck them out straight in front of himself . . . as if they were pegs to hang things upon, looking at them disapprovingly . . .
"I'm very sorry that I got your dress dirty," he said the woman on his left, looking up at her with his big brown eyes. "I hope that it will brush off."
"Oh," she said, "it doesn't matter." Then, as his eyes were still fastened upon her, she went on . . . "Are you going uptown alone?"
"Oh yes Ma'am," he replied. "I always go alone. There is noone to go with me. My father is dead, and my mother is dead. I live with my Aunt Sophie in Brooklyn, but she says that my Aunt Anna should help to do things for me sometimes, and so a couple of times once a week, when Aunt Sophie gets tired and want to go someplace to get rested up, she sends me over to stay with Aunt Anna. That is where I am going now."
He sighed . . .
"Sometimes I don't find Aunt Anna at home but I hope that she will be home today. It looks as if it is going to rain and I don't really like having to hang around the street in the rain."
The woman sat there listening . . . an uncomfortable lump forming in her throat . . . "You are a very little boy to be knocked about this way." she said rather shakily.
"Oh," he said . . . "I don't really mind. I never get lost. I get lonesome sometimes though, on the long trips, and when I see anybody that I think I would like to belong to, I cuddle up close to her so that I can pretend that I really do belong to her, like she was my mum or something. This morning I was pretending that I belonged to the lady in the gray coat and I forgot all about my feet. That is why I got your dress dirty. I am sorry."
The woman put her arms around the tiny lad and pulled him up close to herself, so close that she almost hurt him, and every other woman in the room . . . who had heard his artless confidence looked as if she would not only let him wipe his shoes on her best gown, but would rather he did than he not . . .
"And what is as important as knowledge?"
asked the mind . . .
"Caring and seeing with the heart."
answered the soul.
I got a new camera a few weeks ago. I had been using my old one for about 6 years and it was beginning to crack up. It gets used every day so I think I've gotten my money's worth out of it. I've been playing with the new one, with the help of a good friend, and trying to do some artsy picture taking. I thought it would be fun to show you some of my results this morning, or at least a few of them. I don't want your eyes to glaze over so I will keep it to a dull roar!
This is the first one. I had a rather interesting pear in my fruit bowl. It still had the leaf attached, dry and brown. I thought it made for a beautiful contrast. I set the pear on a scrunched up tea towel and then I bashed a cinnamon stick with the bottom of a bowl and scattered the pieces around the pear and then placed a spice jar of cloves nearby, with some of the cloves falling out. What do you think???
This is one I did of those cookies I baked the other day. I wanted to highlight the different textures in the cookies . . . to show the caster sugar dusting on the top . . . the lettering . . . and then the moreish crunchiness of them.
I was rather proud of these two photos. I am having fun!
Speaking of fun . . . look at what arrived in the post for me on Saturday morning . . .
A Macadamia box, all the way from California, filled with a bunch of little packets wrapped in pretty tissue paper and tied with ribbons . . . and a lovely card from a friend.
The best gifts ever . . . a reading light so I can read in the dark, some scrummy rolled biscuits, a box of saltine crackers and a jar of my absolute favourite seasoning mix . . . but more important than that was the knowledge that my friend loves me so much that she remembered that I love to eat tinned pears with buttered saltines and that I don't get to do that very often over here as we can't get saltines . . . a friend who remembers that I often read late into the night but worry sometimes that I am disturbing Todd . . . a friend who remembers that I just adore the Spade L Ranch seasoning mix and who knows that I can't get that over here either . . . a friend who added a little touch of sweetness and surprise, and then who wrapped it all up in pretty tissue paper, dusted it all with her love and then mailed it over to me. I felt the love most of all.
Thank you Lura. You are a treasure to my heart. ☺
Cooking over in The English Kitchen today . . . Pan Sauteed Cod.