No Courage

It took no courage

to walk in the wind

leaves crunching beneath my feet

It took no courage

to laugh at a distance

with new friends

It took no courage

to send the wasp on it’s way

He tried to nibble my cookie!

It takes no courage 

to slip my mask on my face

matching my outfit or not.

It takes no courage

to listen and learn

about how simple it is.

It takes no courage

to wash my hands

in water warm and bubbly

It takes no courage

to be kind, to be calm

to be safe for everyone else.

“Scared is what you’re feeling. Brave is what you’re doing.”

~ Emma Donoghue, Room

Book Review: The Mother-in-Law by Sally Hepworth

I love a good puzzle and a murder mystery usually fits that bill. This murder mystery was indeed a puzzle, but not especially satisfying for this reader. Diana, the mother-in-law and Lucy, the daughter-in-law, the two main characters, did not like each other from their very first meeting. Preconceived notions and expectation of their roles prevented them from softening and understanding one another. Diana, a wealthy and privileged woman in a solid marriage. Lucy, was young and just engaged to Diana’s eldest child, Oliver (Ollie). Set within the bounds of a family and all their secrets, the clearest character development was for Diana and for Lucy. Character development could have been improved for other family members, however this lack did not distract from the story. There were several possibilities of who the murderer was, however, I was wrong on all counts, giving me a surprise at the end.

The Mother-In-Law was a relatively easy read with short chapters. As the story moved forward, the previous lives of Diana and of Lucy were revealed, suggesting how their present behaviour was related to their past experience. Some areas of the story were not to my liking. The first was the formatting of the book. For this reader, there was too much back and forth - from Lucy and then Diana; and from past to present. Although the chapters had clear headings indicating which character was speaking and which time period they were in, I found this too distracting for my taste. In book group discussion last evening, there were those that liked that format. As far as the final chapter, the ending was not satisfactory as there was no clear indication of what the final police report said. 

“I worked hard for everything I ever cared about, & 

nothing I ever cared about cost a single cent.- Mum”

~ Sally Hepworth, The Mother-In-Law

Sally Hepworth’s previously authored books:

The Family Next Door

The Mother’s Promise

The Things We Keep

The Secrets of Midwives 

Author: Sally Hepworth

Copyright:  2019

Publisher: St.Martin’s Press

Type: Domestic Fiction (LCSH), Mystery Fiction (GSAFD)

Format:Hard Cover

LCCN: 2018046838

ISBN: 9781250120922 (hardcover)

ISBN: 9781250225177 (International, sold outside the U.S.

ISBN: 9781250120946 (ebook)

Theory of Energetics

Energy is not always available

vanishing secretly 

when running in the wind

             

Energy is not always available

still sleeping

when morning light opens my eyes

Energy is not always available

drained away

after a good day’s work is done

Energy is always available 

for a thought

for an idea

for a smile

“The energy of the mind is the essence of life.”

~ Aristotle, The Philosophy of Aristotle

 

Chapter Two, Episode Four - An Education - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
Samuel did a nice job. I did ask him to add some information. In the fourth paragraph, I asked him for specifics about the ferry ride from the island to the mainland when getting to University. When a location changes, transition information if important. This is especially important in a short written piece. 

I also added a last paragraph to create a better ending, as Samuel just left us hanging. 

There were a couple of typo's that I corrected, otherwise this was a nice read.

An Education

Gathering his wits about him Samuel Forrester tried to organize his thoughts. James Digby, the butler, was supposed to be talking about his experience on the Beaufort Estate but he had come down with the flu and was being tested for Covid19. Martha, the housekeeper and Digby’s wife, was all in a flutter and had isolated them both in their cottage. A rainy day, he couldn’t get any work done in the yard, so he agreed to take on the task. He was not much for this sort of thing, this writing down his thoughts, but he and James had been friends for years. From his old desk, he got out the plain coil notebook that he kept his seed records in and sat down to write.

Most folks that listen to me talk probably think I don’t know much about writing things down so people can read them. They’d be wrong. Mother and dad had me in school when I would rather have been out in the garden or helping in the orchard. I still talk like a hillbilly because I like to. Putting in a drawl just seems to fit the straw hat I wear and corncob pipe I keep in my pocket. School days do take me back a day or two. I had to go into Hartley to the old school house, the one they tore down about fifteen years ago. It was on the edge of town when Hartley was still a town and not a city like it is today. My teachers would get so mad at me, especially in the spring when school was ending and in the fall when it was just starting. They tried moving me across the room from the windows, or in the far corner at the back in front of all the coat hooks. Didn’t matter.“Samuel! Pay attention!” Oh, most of them would get so frustrated with me that I told my teachers and my parents that they should just send me home. There was this one class that I liked. English. It was just called English at that time. Now its English Literature and History. Doesn’t matter the name, it’s the same thing. Old Mr. Stannard read Shakespeare and T.S.Eliot and Emily Dickinson to us. Had us in plays and poetry readings. We learned about stories, not just in literature but in history. Did you know that the history books don’t tell the whole story? They miss out about the little people in the telling. 

But how does all that tell you how I got to work here on the Estate. Well, I could make it real short and say that I just took over my daddy’s job. There’d be the end to it. But it wasn’t that easy. When high school was getting close to the end, mother and daddy sat me down and handed me a sheaf of papers and a thick envelope. The sheaf of papers were applications to three universities. The envelope had a whole wad of money they’d been saving for my education. “There’s more in the bank, son.” Dad and mother looked real proud that they could send their only son to university. Oh, I argued and was fit to be tied with them both. I just wanted to be out on the land or keeping the orchard healthy and growing, but they were set on my education. It had to come first. “You can take anything you want and when you come back, if you come back, you can take over my job.” Dad had already spoken with old Mr. Beaufort and it was all arranged - if I wanted it. My dad wasn’t ready to retire anyway so I thought ‘Why not? I’ll just go out in the world for a while, learn about the land and growing things so when I come back I’ll  be ready. I didn’t know ready for what, but that sounded pretty good. And I thought maybe I’d meet a couple of girls, maybe find someone just like my mom or maybe just have a fling.

I’d never been outside of Hartley County before, so going into a big University town on the mainland was a little scary and real exciting. I packed up my suitcase and said 'so long' to the land. Dad and mother drove us on to the ferry where they treated me to lunch at the buffet. The hour and half ride gave us a bit more time to visit. Mother kept dabbing at her eyes and dad had all kinds of advice for me. After we docked, it was on to the University campus and there I stayed for four years. Loving my studies and all the learning kept me in the libraries when it rained and outside on campus on the good days. Down by the lake there were big old poplars to sit under and read all day. Girls seldom came into the picture, but I had my share of dates. I came home with degrees in Agriculture and Literature. I’ve been here ever since. I have all my books all over my little house. When I get home from the garden, I get a cup of tea and read. My homemade bookshelves, the table by my chair and the kitchen counter - even the floor- hold all kinds of books, but the ones I like the best are about the land. That may be a real heavy agricultural research book or a novel that tells the story of people on the land, One that many don’t even think about is The Farmer’s Almanac. Dad always had the latest copy in this very desk.

Well, that’s about it for the early days for me. I do hope James gets better and Martha doesn’t catch the virus, but she likely will, whether it’s Covid or just the flu. By the way, I did learn about the nature of viruses in the plant and animal world and in the dreadful effects of pandemics in some of the old literature. 

Samuel tucked his pencil in his shirt pocket and folded up his page of writing. Stuffing it in an envelope, he labelled it For the Storyteller. Setting it on the chair by the door, it tapped it like it was a pet. "I'll get you over to the house tomorrow." The Farmer's Almanac was right there for him. He picked it up, opened it to the long range weather forecast and sat down to read.

“Often, it’s not about becoming a new person, but becoming the person 

you were meant to be, and already are, but don’t know how to be.”

~ Heath Buckmaster, Box of Hair: A Fairy Tale

Never

Never

Audacity is sometimes mistaken for insensitivity. With good reason. Jack had been called audacious all his life, but he didn't really know what it meant. When he looked audacity up, his thirteen year old mind was shocked. As shocked as a thirteen year old boy can get. That second definition was a real pain. He didn’t mind the first one  - something about taking bold risks. He could see that. Kind of like skateboarding up that straight wall in the boarding park. He figured that was a pretty bold risk and he was the only one that could make that ride without crashing. But disrespectful? Never. His mom taught him better than that. “Mom!? Am I disrespectful? When I’m being that audacious thing grandma says I am.”

“Of course not, honey. You’ve learned to be a very respectful boy. Well, except maybe when all your skate boarding gets you in the hospital because you’ve broken your arm. Of course then there’s…………” Jack opened the fridge door, leaned into it and looked for something to drink. His voice muffled he said…… “All right. All right. You don’t need to get started on me.” His list of skate boarding injuries was so long that he knew most of the ER docs by their first names. they really like him and knew when he was as soon as they saw him. Jack grabbed the jug of orange juice, closed the fridge door with his foot and said. “I’m going out mom. See you later.” Jack grabbed his skateboard, chugged the last drop of orange juice and slammed out the door headed for some ramps and concrete steps one of the guys told him about. 

“Audacity is of all qualities the most youthful.”

~ Ellen Glasgow

The Triggering Effect

Rarely, if ever, do we take into consideration the real reason for our more animated discussions. This little debacle seemed to be about windows. Not all of the windows, just the living room window. Was it too wide? Too tall? Were there enough drapes on it? Or the right kind? In Ronald's mind, trying to sort through all of those ridiculous details was not even logical. He was too angry. After a particularly nasty fight with his long time partner, Kelly, he had stomped into the den and slammed the door behind him. Breathing hard, he slammed his fist on the shiny mahogany surface of his desk. What was that all about!? He hung his head, then stood up and shook his shoulders. With both hands he brushed off the weight of the last hour. All he could think of was that it was the old fight. The fight that started over some bit of trivia and escalated into World War III. Doors were slammed, icy silence fell like icicles snapped from the eaves and only in the morning did the air seem cleared - at least temporarily. 

Ron sat down at his desk, leaned forward on his elbows and thought. Then he started to chuckle silently. The chuckle bubbled up from his belly. That fight wasn’t about the drapes on the living room window at all. 

~~~~~

In the morning, it had started. Neither of them had slept well, and then slept in. The power had gone out in the night, their radio alarm didn’t go off at the right time. There was only time to make coffee, but the coffee maker sprung a leak flooding the counter, dripping onto the floor and leaving the coffee grounds as dry as dust. That was no problem, they would pick up coffee on the way into work. “Where is my cellphone?” Kelly was frantically searching pockets, drawers and finally his briefcase. The phone was buried on the bottom beneath an old sandwich, some folders stuffed with forms and a package of tissues. “Do you have the car keys?” It was Ron’s turn to drive but there were no keys in sight. “I found them - let’s go.”

The stress and strain of that morning’s mess, left behind them in the kitchen, lay in wait for their return. Laughing about some of the events of the day, Ron and Kelly came home. They hung up their coats. Ronald put his brief case up on the counter. “What’s for supper, Kel? ….Kelly?” He could hear his partner in the living room closing the drapes. “These stupid drapes won’t close properly.” ………….That’s when it started! Just because they were both tired.

“Always wait for the trigger. The trigger is the final part 

of the puzzle, the reason you want to shoot.” 

~ Jay Maisel

 

The Other Guy

 

Understanding

    the other guy’s

        position is awkward

Lying down

   Standing up or

      Sitting down

Has there been

   deepening darkness or

      steady light?

Has there been

     hope for tomorrow and 

         courage in each day?

Are we warmly dressed for

   summer or winter

        rain or snow?

Understanding 

   the other guy’s

      position is difficult.

“Nothing in life is to be feared, it is only to be understood. 

Now is the time to understand more so that we may fear less.”

~ Marie Curie