Chapter One, Episode 113 - The Honeymooners - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
Romantic fun. These are the two words that came to me when I finished this morning's review. I enjoyed writing the first draft, and today I enjoyed the revision. It was more development than revision. Some punctuation needed my attention, otherwise I merely added improved descriptors in the later paragraphs of this little bit of romantic fun. 

The Honeymooners

They walked along the beach at sunset. The tide was out, the water glassy, painted in light touches of peach and blue. Holding hands, they walked barefoot on the wet sand, cool after the heat of the day. “Do you suppose that this is what James and Martha are doing?”

Melanie frowned and then smiled up at Giles. “Giles, this is our honeymoon. A little late, but it’s ours. Leave James and Martha to their honeymoon. Besides, you don’t even know where they went.”

Giles turned and took Melanie in his arms. “You’re right, sweetie.” With both hands he brushed her hair loose from its normal restraints, her face beautiful and soft in the evening light. Holding her face with both hands, he kissed her. For moment, they held each other. Melanie stepped back. “Giles, do you suppose mom and dad are doing all right with the children? They’s not used to having children around this long.”

Giles laughed. “Who was it that just said that this is our honeymoon? Leave your mom and dad to their grandchildren. They are fine. Your mom is probably showing two of them how to make pizza, your dad has the other two out in the garage showing them how to build something.” Arms around each other they continued their walk on the beach. 

“Watch.” Giles suddenly stopped. He pushed both feet down into the sand, stepped back and watched his footprints fill with ocean water. “Now you do it.” Melanie took Giles' hand to steady herself and jumped forward, pushing her feet into the sand right beside the footprints Giles had made. She stepped back. Her footprints filled with water. Suddenly distracted, she pointed just a few inches ahead. “Oh look! There are beautiful white shells. Giles what are you doing?” While Melanie was looking at the shells, Giles had picked up a long strand of seaweed and draped it around his shoulders. It dripped water all over him. He took one end in one hand and with the other he scooped Melanie toward him. “Giles! You’re getting me all wet!”  Laughing and trying to pull away, Melanie stumbled backwards and sat in the wet sand. Picking up a sodden handful, she flung it at Giles. Soon they were both rolling in the gritty damp. When the rolling stopped, Melanie was on her back, Giles bending over her. Coyly, Melanie pouted “I’m soaking wet and covered in sand, Giles. I think I need a shower.” Giles smiled. “I’m feeling a little wet and uncomfortable myself. Last one to the shower has to make sure there’s enough towels.” They both scrambled to their feet, grabbed their shoes and hopped about trying to put them on. Any beach, strewn with broken seashells and especially at twilight could be dangerous on unprotected feet. Still laughing, they raced to their little cabin. Within minutes, windows were ablaze with lights, smoke furled from the chimney. From the little cabin, there were bubbles of quiet laughter and the strains of soft jazz. It wasn’t long before the music faded, and the cabin was silent. The lights went out and all that could be heard were the night birds. 

“Our honeymoon will shine our life long: 

its beams will only fade over your grave or mine.”

~ Charlotte Bronte

Chapter One, Episode 112 - Checklist - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Although the flow of this Episode 112 was fairly consistent, I did find it necessary to do some revising. The first thing I noticed was a confusing timeline. The story in this Episode pre-dated The Wedding (Episode 111 - reviewed yesterday) without any explanation, thus the addition of the very first couple of sentences.

Most paragraphs have had additions to them, to add clarity to dialogue or add detail to a setting - or it could be that I like playing with words.

Checklist

Jeremy had plans that pre-dated the magical wedding. Or had it been wishful thinking? 

Late in the day that Emelina had called him, waking him from his sleep drugged state, he found and opened his invitation to Martha and Digby’s wedding. He was ready to cry, having just clicked off from a phone conversation with Emelina. She wondered if he would be able to take some time off from the hospital and wouldn’t say why. “Only for a couple of weeks, Jeremy.” She said she wouldn’t give him any details until he could get the time off. Just like her in the old days. Ask for something without giving a reason. The only thing she would say is that “it will almost be like old times, Jeremy. When I still had Michael and you still had Elaine.”  Not much to go on but Jeremy really needed - and seriously wanted - some time off from the craziness of the hospital. The fact that it would be with Emelina made it all the more attractive. He was nervous though. Were either of them over their spouses? Michael had died five years ago, Elaine four years ago. Both had been ill and their deaths were expected but there had been a lot of love in both marriages.

~~~~~

Jeremy set all of that aside when he went to work. In his typical doctor fashion, he looked at this like any difficult condition that may require surgery. He would investigate what had to be done, do what was needed and the results would be what they would be. Once the emotional baggage was out of the way, he took a stroll to ICU and to the Covid floors, ticking off his own mental check list. ICU - no Covid cases. The last had been three days previously. Then it was on to the two Covid floors: three recovering cases on one, last discharge from the other the day before his little stroll. Then he checked the Emergency Department and with the Admissions clerk. Both areas were still busy, but there was only one suspected Covid19 case in ER with no apparent co-morbid conditions.

He took his numbers to the little garden on the roof of the hospital, where only two people were allowed at any one time. So it was just him and one other person that stepped up to be allowed into this leafy sanctum. His second mental check list was a short one; a brief outline of his own plan to present to the Hospital Administrator and the Chief Surgeon. His goal: be granted three weeks off. Two weeks to self-isolate after working so closely with patients diagnosed with active Covid19. Then he would have one week to spend with Emelina for whatever she had planned.

Down in the locker room, he checked his scrubs and his white lab coat. Any unpleasant splashes, stains or missing buttons? No. He checked the mirror - yes he looked tired, but then so did everyone else that worked in the hospital. Jeremy’s hair was slightly dishevelled. He was tempted to give it a comb to get it neat, but decided it may help his case. At the last minute, he pulled his comb out and tidied himself up.

Looking in the bathroom shaving mirror at his tired eyes and drawn face, he straightened his shoulders, and said aloud “Ok, Dr. Crawford. You can do this. You’ve known the Administrator, Sherman Smart a long time, and the Chief Surgeon - you’ve worked with her for the last eight years. Tanya McCormick is tough, but fair.” Jeremy kept talking quietly to himself all the way into the elevator, back up to first floor and along the hallway. 

His one sided conversation came to an abrupt halt when Dr. McCormick strode up beside him from another hallway “Tanya! I didn’t expect to see you! I'm on my way to Sherm’s office. Do you have a minute?” Jeremy’s stomach tightened as though he were about to enter the principle's office with the truant officer. 

Tanya had always liked Jeremy, pleased when their schedules coincided. Their shifts always went smoothly, no matter how busy. She could always depend on him, and if Jeremy were asked, he could always depend on her. “For you, Jeremy, any time. I'm going Sherm's office, too! What’s up?” They walked side by side up to the Administrator’s office. 

Jeremy held the big glass door to the Administrators office open for his colleague. He greeted the receptionist. “Hi Bonnie. How are you? Is Sherman in or is he busy?” Jeremy hoped that no one could see the perspiration that he was sure had soaked his scrubs and coat. 

Bonnie glanced at her phone for red lights. “He’s just finished a telephone conference. Let me check if he'll be able to see you now?…………Mr. Smart, Dr. Crawford and Dr. McCormick are out here and would like to speak with you. Send them in? Thank you.” Bonnie hung up the phone and with a big beautiful smile told them to go on in.

Jeremy had barely stuttered his request out of his very dry mouth when Sherman said. “You want time off? How much and when do you want to start?” The administrator looked up at Tanya: “Is that all right with you?” She nodded without hesitation. Jeremy was about to protest, certain that he would have to go over all his research, sure that Tanya would already have him lined up for an important surgery. Then it sunk in. “Could you repeat that Sherman?”

A jovial man, Sherman laughed out loud. “You didn’t hear me the first time, Jeremy? Maybe you’d better get your hearing checked on your time off.”

~~~~~

Jeremy went home that very day and called Emelina to tell her the good news. 

“Emmie, I have time off! Three weeks! But don’t get too excited. I’m going to self isolate for two weeks and then we can do or go wherever you want. Before I left work today, I was tested again for the virus - symptoms and a nasal swab.” Jeremy was excited and relieved. He could eat and sleep as much as he wanted. He could talk to Emelina every day. And the relief he felt. He felt like he had just taken a very, very heavy coat off and could finally breath.

“I won’t call you until tomorrow afternoon to give you time to get rested. After that, will it be Facetime or just the phone, Jeremy? We have plans to make.” If there was an equivalency measure for excitement, Emelina’s would have bested Jeremy’s but only by a hair.

“We are besieged by simple problems…Checklists can provide protection.”

~ Atul Gawande, The Checklist Manifesto: How to Get Things Right

Chapter One, Episode 111 - The Wedding - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Aware for several weeks that I missed two very important people in the wedding party, I have added an entire paragraph in this Episode 111 - The Wedding. Martha's grandchildren, Abby and Ben, were promised in a previous episode, to be flower girl and ring bearer. They now have been given their place in that ‘magical day’ (Martha’s words) and I do hope they have forgiven my adult faux pas.

Aside from that significant addition, there were few other very minor issues to rewrite, involving punctuation and single word repairs (i.e. - using 'this' instead of 'the')

The Wedding

In a world gone mad with the sadness and tragedy of Covid19, it was as though this threat had never existed. The sun shone through the leaves of the ancient redwood. The wedding party, in the dappled sunlight, seemed blessed by fairy dust. Their big day had been magical. Martha Haverstock, radiant in her wedding dress all cream coloured and lace, wore a crown of yellow wild flowers that held a short veil drifting shoulder length at the back. Martha’s granddaughter Abby had gathered the wild flowers for her grandmother. The two of them made the chain of flowers that became the crown. Martha’s daughter, Joanie, dressed in a soft mauve summer dress, gave her mother away. James Edward Digby, the groom, was handsome in a grey summer tuxedo. He had thought it too informal, but Giles Thornton, the Estate chauffeur, had convinced him that today of all days, James’ butlerish formality needed to be set aside.

Leading the beautiful bride down the grassy aisle to her handsome groom were Martha's grandchildren. Nine year old Ben Richardson, ring bearer, dressed in his new summer suit of dove grey, walked proudly ahead of his sister. A little to firmly, he held a small cream coloured satin pillow. His precious two golden wedding rings tied securely in place, to present to the waiting ushers. Five year old Abby Richardson, walking between Ben and the bride, wore a brand-new dress of very light mauve, a cream coloured ribbon tied in a bow at the back, was at her waist. She carried a small bouquet of the wild flowers she had gathered. At the last minute, before they all began their measured walk, Martha picked out two tiny flowers from her crowned veil  to tuck one into Ben's lapel and another in the cream coloured head band holding Abby's shiny brown curls. Martha pulled a lacy handkerchief from her bosom and wiped her eyes of tiny teardrops. Tucking it back in it's place, she took her daughter Joanie's arm and stood tall, ready for their walk in the sun.

No one recognized Samuel Forrester, James’ best man. Usually seen in the garden in a worn straw hat and work clothes, Samuel had been into Hartley fora proper hair cut. Mary Elizabeth Saunders, better known as Cook, had insisted that he do so. He didn’t know what a best man should wear, so Elizabeth went with him. A men’s clothing store, now open to the public, was their hunting ground. He wasn’t going to wear anything ‘too uppity’ and finally chose slate grey slacks, a short sleeved white shirt and a summer weight navy blazer. Elizabeth, Martha’s maid of honour, chose a good cotton dress that she could wear again - a sensible shirt waist dress in a deeper mauve than Joanie’s Maid of Honour dress.

Giles Thornton and Brigitte Smithson, Emelina Beaufort’s companion and secretary were the ushers for the very small group. Two of the invited guests were Emelina Beaufort and her sister, Desperanza Eliot. Emelina’s closet provided her with a flowing knee length dress in a floral print of lilacs. Dez’s closet was quite bare for what she would have called dress-up clothes. Emelina took her shopping and dressed her in grey dress slacks and a deep purple tunic. She lent her a glass pendant encasing a black dragonfly. Dr. Jeremy Crawford, a long time friend of Emmie’s, Matt Hamilton, and Joey Tucker, the young man recently hired for housecleaning were the only other guests. Reverend Tucker, from Hartley and Joey’s father, officiated this long awaited wedding, meeting the bride and groom only weeks prior to the wedding. His son Joey, had recommended him to Martha and James when he overheard a troubled kitchen conversation that no minister could be found.

~~~~

“James, wasn’t everyone beautiful? And my sweet grandchildren! So precious. It was such a magical day.” Martha sat back in the front seat of their car. “Martha, you were the most beautiful.” She reached her hand to James, he reached his to hers. “Martha dear, here we are. Do you like this little cottage?” His new wife and oldest friend took a deep breath. “Oh, James it is absolutely charming. However did you find it?”

The couple originally planned a ferry trip to one of the Gulf islands, but restrictions had changed their plans. James scoured the internet for a cottage to rent on Vancouver Island outside of Hartley. He was about to give up when a little cottage a few miles off the main highway and close to the ocean popped on the screen. Tucked into the trees, and close to the ocean, they could walk to a near by beach. It was close to a small town with groceries so they would have all the privacy they wanted. It would be a week of loving and happy relaxation for Mr. and Mrs. James Digby.

“It is such a happiness when good people get together — and they always do.”

~ Jane Austen

Chapter One, Episode 110 - Going Places - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
For this episode, first draft cursory research involved finding out if there actually was education for a career as a Ladies' Maid. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that such education exists. Far more in depth than Brigitte's course outline. Disclaimer: Brigitte's textbook, The Psychology of Companionship: Employer and Employee, blossomed from my imagination. 

There were only one or two one word fixes that were required, so all in all, I was pleased. Could I have fiddled with wording - of course - but keeping my fingers from fixing what is just fine is a challenge I'm willing to accept.

Going Places

Brigitte was packing. The orientation for the Lady’s Maid course was in the next town over from Hartley. Benton was a small town only about 20 km away. A popular tourist destination, their advertising boasted of a ‘quaint village with charming shops, elite restaurants, unique art galleries and museums’. It was also a centre for learning about the finer things in life for butlers, lady's maids, and etiquette for the elite. Each one had a separate course online. However, a face to face orientation was held for each course to familiarize the students in the reality of their chosen profession. Often, these orientations weeded out those that had glamorous ideas of what was expected. Brigitte felt she already knew many of the Lady’s Maid roles as she had taken care of her mistress, Miss Emelina, for the past four years. That role had become increasingly narrow as Miss Emmie became more and more dependent on Brigitte. With the onslaught of Covid19, Miss Emmie had been left alone to her own devices. With the help of her sister Dez, she came out of the grief stricken funk she had been wallowing in since the passing of her husband five years before. Now Brigitte’s role would be different, but she was unsure how or what she needed to know.

When investigating education about Lady's Maids ~ and she didn’t even know if there was specific education for it ~ she learned that many Lady's Maids become more like Personal Secretaries to their mistress. Brigitte had been unsure of how to make that transition and what the expectations of her employer should be. She had broached Miss Em on the subject, but even she didn’t know, having never considered it. So the orientation would be particularly helpful. Subjects covered were personal care and grooming, with attention to the mistress’s wardrobe and the activities on her calendar for consistency. Most of that Brigitte felt she was familiar with and almost dismissed these parts of the course as unnecessary. Since Miss Emmie’s increased attention to her self-care, that part of Brigitte’s job had lessened substantially. So the Personal Secretary and Companion sections of the course intrigued Brigette.

~~~~~

The days had not been too long. Three hours in the morning and three hours in the afternoon. Some of the orientation had been held in the evenings, when the students were taken to certain restaurants with fine dining. Some afternoon sessions were at art galleries or museums. The experiences were to educate them on the places their mistresses would most likely be attending. During the online course they would have assignments in their own locations that mirrored those in the orientation. When it came to the Lady’s Secretary or Companion, there were speakers that told of their travels and experiences for keeping their mistress organized in any sort of travel experience. In this part of the orientation, they were given a book list of study materials. The most interesting was The Psychology of Companionship: Employer and Employee. ‘A psychology for working with Miss Emmie? Wow! Of course.’ Then there was Accounting for Travel and Events: Keeping Receipts on Track. These topics, Brigitte had not really considered. With all the new purchases for the orchard, she had never even considered she may be responsible for collecting receipts. The opening keynote speaker had said: “As a Lady’s Maid, Companion or Secretary your goal is to keep the path for your mistress clear. That does not mean that you kowtow to your mistress but that you build a reciprocal relationship with her.”

~~~~~

Brigitte was glad to be at her parent’s cabin where it was quiet and calm. Because she went straight from the Orientation to the cabin, she had her books with her. Changing into her comfortable denim-like leggings and a loose sleeveless white tunic, she picked up her books and went to the swinging wicker basket chair on the porch. Books on the side table, she went inside for a glass of wine and a small plate grapes, cheese and crackers. Settling into the swing, she started to read Psychology, occasionally reaching absently for a snack or a sip. When she was shivering and the light was too low to read, Brigitte looked up at the lake. It was like glass, reflecting only the trees on the other side of the lake. The sun had disappeared behind the pines. Brigitte put her books down, shivered and unwound herself, ready for the warmth of the indoors. 

“The more that you read, the more you will know. 

The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”

~ Dr. Seuss, I Can Read With My Eyes Shut

Chapter One, Episode 109 - The Care and Management of Fruit Trees - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

This episode also took me back several years ago to my time spent part each summer working on a fruit stand in Kelowna, BC (Hazeldell Orchards). Thank you, Allen and Wendy for all that you taught me and the laughter you shared with me!

When I glanced at the word count this morning, (1034 words) I settled in for a long study. Pleasantly surprised with the improvement this episode demonstrated, I really only did some minor wording changes within a sentence or two. 

The Care and Management of Fruit Trees 

The Care and Management of Fruit Trees  The large sign was posted at the entrance to Matt Thornton’s farm! Dez looked again at her brochure. No, it didn’t say anything about who’s orchard or farm that would be hosting the workshop, just provided an address. She hadn’t remembered Matt’s address so, until she was a kilometre away, she never suspected that he would be playing host. Matt had merely referred her to the local Fruit Growers association for workshops and seminars. They had given her the brochure, gone through it with her and took her registration money. The brochure had said to bring a small notebook, a pen or pencil and a bag lunch for the noon break. 

Dez pulled up at Matt’s garage where two cars and a couple of pickups were parked. The attendance was limited to six, two speakers and Matt. Nine people comfortably within the limits for social gatherings. In Matt’s large front yard, he had well spaced metal folding chairs facing a make-shift podium. Fortunately they had a windless, slightly cool summer day for the beginning of this week long event. Hopefully the whole week would have good weather, but should the weather start turning bad, the group would be moved into a quanset behind the garage. All the equipment had been moved outside, giving the group ample spacing.

Dez felt like a real outsider. She caught bits of conversation between orchardists that had obviously known each other for quite sometime. Conversations about grafting, pruning, and starch-iodine tests. Dez wondered why they were here if they already knew about these things. She was curious about it all, but the starch-iodine test really intrigued her. From what she could gather it had to do with testing ripeness.

Just as she was about to enter the conversation, Matt called the workshop to order. Spying Dez in the small group, he nodded to her, smiled and continued with his introductions. “Good morning group. We’re a little bit smaller this year but restrictions say to keep groups under ten people. Just some housekeeping. First the Covid19 questionnaire ………” Dez listened and replied as necessary but was anxious to get going on learning about what to do. The next speaker was an orchardist talking about what was needed to keep a healthy orchard, besides watering. Dez’s mind wandered often, the morning grew warm and her eyelids heavy. There was a short break for water or juice and stretching their legs, but the next speaker brought out a chalk board and Dez was able to take notes. The group was assured that there would be a Q&A period at the end, so there were time for questions. After a short lunch break, the group re-convened at the front of the orchard. They were split into two groups. Each group was led by one of the speakers. The first group started down an outside row of trees. The second group waited until they were six feet away from that first group before moving onward. It gave Dez a different perspective of her own orchard. She could see places where some kind of damage had occurred, like frost, old pruning cuts, and so much more. She had just seen her apple trees as any other trees. Now they were individuals with history right in their bark and the apples that they grow. Some trees already were bearing fruit. The speaker leading the groups would reach out, pull down carefully on the fruit and demonstrate the starch-iodine test. Before their eyes, the pulp of the apple turned yellow with a bit of dark purple. “This apple is not ripe. If it had turned black that would have been marked it as ripe and ready. So for each tree, an apple is sacrificed to determine ripeness of a specific section of your orchard.”

At the beginning of the day, Dez was almost ready to leave, feeling uncomfortable with her newness to orcharding. By noon, she was curious and had questions. At the end of a long and very interesting day, Dez was ready to get back to ‘her’ orchard and inspect it tree by tree. At a table set up with more brochures and some books about orchards, Dez stopped, picked up one each of the six brochures. She was choosing which book to take, when she heard Matt call out her name. “Dez. What did you think of today?”

“I was a bit scared this morning, but as the day wore on I just really loved all the information. My brain is stuffed full. And this is just the first day! Thank you, Matt, for referring me to the Fruit Growers. I am so tempted to get out to the orchard tonight before I go home, but better not. I’ve got notes to review, supper to eat and a good sleep so I can be ready for tomorrow. What’s on the agenda for tomorrow, Matt?” Dez felt like she couldn’t stop talking.

“You’ve got the agenda haven’t you? If not I’ll get you one. But tomorrow is not quite as long because we covered a lot of the housekeeping things today.” Matt was pleased with Dez’s response. This was the first time he had hosted one of these workshops. He had been quite nervous.

“Of course I do - I forgot. It’s in the goody bag that we each got at the beginning with all the info that would be covered. Matt, would you like to come in for supper when you’ve ………. no, you have a lot to do for this. I’ll have you in for supper once this is all over. Thanks again, Matt.” Dez, sounding like a school girl, could feel herself blushing. She and Matt had history. “I’m just going to get on home, Matt and I’ll see you in the morning.” Dez hurried to her car, alone in front of Matt’s garage. With just a little wave to Matt, she backed out, turned around and drove off. Matt was left alone in his yard with a smile on his face.

“I am always doing that which I cannot do, 

in order that I may learn how to do it.”

~ Pablo Picasso

Chapter One, Episode 108 - Poetic Justice - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
This Episode, in its first draft form, was written on my first day back in Saskatchewan as a resident. 

Any revisions I made were within each paragraph. Additions of detail, reordering some of the sentences and the inclusion of a wee piece of poetry.

Poetic Justice

Mary Elizabeth Saunders had emptied the pantry, cans of tomatoes, kidney beans, corn; jars of home preserves, boxes of rice and salt, empty jars awaiting garden produce and the odds and ends of a busy kitchen were spread out on the long table in the Beaufort estate kitchen. 

Elizabeth was better known to many as Cook - her staff position and well deserved title on the Estate. When she heard her two friends, Martha Haverstock, Housekeeper and James Edward Digby, Butler, making their honeymoon plans, she started to think about what she could get up to while they were away. 

While she washed down all the shelves in the pantry, she wrote a mental 'to-do' list. First she’d write a letter to her sister Lily in England, but that would only take up one or two hours of one day. After that she supposed she would clean out her storage room that she’d been putting off for far too long. Elizabeth, swept the pantry floor, picking up the bits and pieces of dust and crumbs with her dust pan. Then, she would ask Samuel, the yardman and her good friend, to help her with anything heavy, up too high or needing to be tossed out. He had told her he’d always be available to take things out to the city landfill for her. Even though that would be a big job, she would still be left with time on her hands. 

~~~~~

Posting the letter to Lily, was just a short walk to a Canada Post mail post. Samuel had come over to help her clean out the storage room and reorganize it. Grateful for his help, she made him a good lunch along with hers. He ate up his lunch quickly and thought he'd best get his truck out of the driveway. “You never know, Elizabeth. If that old truck sits still too long, there may be some talk.” After he was gone, Elizabeth smiled a small smile. She didn't have that many neighbours, and if they had any notions, she supposed they had a right even if they were wrong.

The heavy work done and her little house quiet, Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. With a good strong mug of tea and the book of poetry from local poets, Martha's birthday gift to her, she went outside. She missed having a large porch, but kept an old brown wicker chair tucked beside her front door for the rare occasions when she had a sit down. Sometimes it was only to rest easy when coming home from a particularly busy work day. But on this afternoon, she had promised herself a little holiday, if you could even call it that. Her tea got cold and the book never left her lap. At first it was just nice to sit quietly, but Elizabeth never had been one to sit still for long. Energy that she couldn’t ignore stirred inside her. She drank up half of the cold tea and, with the other half, watered her geraniums. Red ones and white ones that blossomed profusely. She opened the book of poetry that Martha had given her, and glanced at the first page. 

Summer Savoury

Crumbles and peachy sweetness, 

Summer ripeness to savour - 

A delicious recall.

by Amber Peters

Elizabeth was pleased. The author was one of the clerks at her favourite grocery store. Few people knew or even suspected that Mary Elizabeth liked poetry. Most people just thought she would only ever think of food, but she was really quite the romantic and she liked the turn of phrases that poets used. Like the flowers and scroll work on a cake, or the way a meal was plated and presented with elegance - it was all poetry. No one knew that when she peeled a pear or sliced an onion that she would see the beauty and elegance of these humble foods. Before taking her book in the house to put it away on the shelf, she glanced through the pages, intrigued by the words penned various people she knew. In the house, she began to slip it between two other books of poetry. She pulled it back and took it to her bedside table to read at bedtime.

Still restless, she slipped on her sweater, and grabbed an umbrella against the greying skies, setting off for a walk with no intended destination. Soon she found herself at the back door of the Estate, unlocking the door and stepping inside the mudroom. It had been like a magnet had pulled her to her work place, and she hadn’t even felt it. Humming tunelessly, she went into the kitchen, put her sweater, purse and umbrella away. The silence of the big old house stopped her. “Well, it’s just you and me now. It’s been a long time since we had this old house to ourselves, hasn’t it, Sarah? I’ve always felt you at my side when I cook, especially the sweets. If I’m going to keep making these sweets, I need you to help me or get out of my way.” No one had ever talked to Sarah that way, all of them just a little afraid of ghosts. Not Elizabeth. In England when she was a young girl, she had seen many ghosts, some of them scarier than others. This little ghost - Sarah was her name - did get cranky from time to time, but never with Elizabeth. Sarah knew that Elizabeth could and would banish her from the kitchen. For anyone peering into the kitchen, they would only see Elizabeth, walking back and forth from pantry to sink to table. They may think ‘the old woman is only talking to herself’ when really Elizabeth was chatting with her little friend Sarah. 

“Out beyond the ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing 

there is a field. I’ll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass 

the world is too full to talk about.”

~ Rumi

**Author’s note on August 13, 2020: It's good to be back and I've missed your good comments and enthusiasm, dear readers. My story of Dez and Emelina continues with all of their characters - Dez Eliot, her sister Emelina Beaufort, James Edward Digby,  Martha  Haverstock, Brigitte Smithson, Samuel Forrester, yardman and jack-of-all trades, Sarah, the Estate ghost, and a cast of several other characters. Situationally Theirs began on March 25, 2020 in the early days of the Covid19 pandemic. With the beautiful help of my readers, it has been my way of living inside of restrictions, vulnerability and uncertainty. This little hiatus has been to move my life onto another chapter and to continue Situationally Theirs.