Chapter One, Episode 133 - Amelia's Orchard - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Reviewing this Episode, my sometimes disjointed manner of storytelling appeared again. Finding it throughout this episode, an attempt at specifying the changes would have been fruitless. For a mere 550 words in the original post, the revisions took about two hours for me to be satisfied. 

Amelia's Orchard

It is always easier to see things at eye level or below. Those things we cannot see clearly above us have their own fantasy. Images we imagine whether from books or movies. Dez and Emmie could barely see the gargoyles peeking out from the green ivy that climbed the walls and crabbed along the eaves. When a sudden spell of cold, not usual on the Island, brushed against the ivy, the leaves turned from glossy green to golden red. Jaunty caps to soften the gargoyles’ attempt at fearsome glares toward the dangers of the world.  Their game of hide and seek as mysterious as the gargoyles themselves. Each one, a different face carved in granite, watched over the pioneer family that had braved so many other dangers. As years passed, their protection continued for all other Beaufort families as well as the many that had worked for and with them. 

 ~~~~~

Thoughtfully, Emelina spoke softly to her sister. “So it really is history.” They had returned to the upstairs. Recalling one of the books that her husband Michael had cherished, she went to the oaken writing desk in the living room. It had been his father’s great-great grandmother Amelia Beaufort’s diary, the first of many. Laying it open on the coffee table, she called to her sister “Look at this inscription, Dez. The ink has faded but, in her husband’s own hand he says to his wife ‘Amelia, your name means work. Working with great bravery and courage, you have brought our family here. Here we have planted our family and our apple trees. Together we built our house. Each of the gargoyles are your protectors, Your loving husband Michael.’  Emelina ran her hand lightly over the inscription and said “Michael was named after this ancestor, Dez. He was so proud of it.” Her sister picked up the ancient and fragile diary, gently turning each page to see the fading words. “Oh my.” Dez sat on the sofa. “Listen to this, Em: ‘We have faithfully and judiciously watered our apple seedlings. They seem to have taken root as there are new buds on the saplings. We will not be blessed with apples for two years or more, so we must care for them patiently.’ Emmie, your orchard came from Amelia’s saplings!” Dez was in awe. Her so-called title of Project Manager seemed almost flippant in light of Amelia’s words; she felt privileged to be the caretaker of Amelia’s orchard. Emmie had listened quietly to her sister read Amelia’s words penned so very long ago. She imagined a hand carved pen dipped in ink, Amelia writing on precious paper bound in leather. Now when Emelina looked at her house, she would look up at the gargoyles and see the security of a husband’s love. When she looked out at her orchard, she would see Amelia, with her watering can pouring precious drops of water on the saplings that now still stood ~ gnarled, old and real. The insides of the house could be rearranged, the rooms redecorated, but the house and land stood silently untouched, awaiting the care and attention of those that shared its space. 

Emelina and Desperanza Eliot, like many other women in the Beaufort world, had inherited a family history. They had stumbled into it blindly. Emelina by marriage and Desperanza, her sister. But where would they go from there?

“We need to haunt the house of history 

and listen anew to the ancestors wisdom.”

~ Maya Angelou