Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Once Again I Plead For Forgiveness

Yesterday's drive home was long, not nearly as long as the drive down, but still after being in the van for 11 hours, unloading, finding something for supper, and then throwing all the dirties down the laundry chute, I was just too pooped to write, much less post. I promise, cross my heart, that I'll post every day for the rest of the month. I brought my notebook and the prompts to work today and have written in between customers. Here's what we've got for today...

October 13--Boris Mikhailovich Kustodiev, At Home. Katya sat in the shade of the birch tree holding the new puppy in her lap while Lara made a daisy chain. The twelve year old was all long legs and coltish speed these days. Katya remembered when she was twelve and her body suddenly felt all wrong. She would be sorry when her girl turned into a young lady. She was teaching Lara to knit and relished the quiet hours they spent sitting side by side with their fingers busy and just talked about school and books and music and everything that popped into Lara's head. Too soon her girlfriends would be more important and her Lara would be looking at, giggling at boys. Katya stroked the puppy's silky ears and thought, at least I'll have Bruno here to keep me company.

I can tell I spent the weekend with my DD and I miss the days when she was still so young. It's hard to be the grown-up some days.

October 14--Wedgewood &Sons, Stoneware copy of the 1st century Portland Vase. Marnie stood at the kitchen counter stripping leaves from the peonies she had cut from her garden. She loved the sweet fragrance of the lush dark red flowers but hated the army of ants that crawled all over them. She had bought a brown Wedgewood vase at an estate sale the weekend before and couldn't wait to see it filled with the sensual blooms. She had always thought that peonies with their overlapping and jagged-edged petals looked like floozies all tousled and tumbled after a roll in the hat. They would contrast just right with the formal classic lines of the vase. Maybe her straight laced mother-in-law would take a hint when she came to dinner that night and unbend enough to smile at her, just this once.

I never knew I thought of peonies like that. Interesting. Stay warm.
--Barbara

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