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

Chapter One, Episode 132 - Inscriptions - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

This morning's revision began as only a few small wording changes and punctuation corrections. However, when I talked about Dez and Emmie examining every brick, I really was concerned about the relaxing weekend they had planned. So I have re-visioned that area to cut them a bit of slack. It does seem that as I get farther in any episode, the more wording or sentence structure issues crop up.

Inscriptions

Houses do not have personalities. But then most of us know that ghosts do not exist. I’m sure Sarah, the ghost girl, the girl on the swing, would disagree. Dez and Emmie had been discussing the personality or lack of personality of the house for several hours. “Let’s go for a walk, Emmie. I’m not sure personality is the right word for a house, but every time I come up the drive, I see more than just a pile of bricks stacked up around a wood frame. Maybe, I’m seeing history?” 

“A walk. Good idea! If we go out the front door, no one will notice us.” The sisters were taking time away from work on the Estate and Dez's work in Hartley. Unable to completely re-create their pandemic two week self-isolation in March, they could, sort of, self-isolate upstairs with the benefit of Cook's culinary expertise for a weekend. From just 24 hours to a full weekend, they had settled in to relax. Emmie agreed to Dez's suggestion for a walk to humour her sister. After all of the Beaufort family celebrations and gatherings, thinking about the personality of the house seemed quite odd. She hoped that going for a walk would actually distract Dez from this crazy idea. But the first thing they saw when they went out the front door were double twin pillars supporting a small parapet. “This is what I’m talking about. When I see that, I don’t see a pile of bricks that hide pretty rooms. I see support and protection. Here - look up there.” Dez took Emmie by the elbow and led her around the far side of the house. “There. Up in the corner of the house, almost completely covered by ivy, there’s a gargoyle - and another at each corner, level with the eaves. Some say they ward off evil. More protection - right? I guess I’m sounding a little strange.” Dez did take a more artistic view of the house than probably most on the Estate did. 

Emmie was rather amused, but tried to hide it. When she thought about it though, she had always felt protected in this house. Well, except when Sarah was floated unexpectedly through a wall or window. Suddenly curious, she stopped and bent down. “Look what I’ve found, Dez.” Emmie had squatted at a corner, brushed away dirt and tugged at sparse ivy that clung to the bricks. The brick she had uncovered at the front of the house, a slightly deeper shade of brick red, was inscribed with a single word: Hope. “Do you think there may be others?” Dez was curious and excited. Each corner did have another. Kindness at the front. At the back on either corner was Wisdom and Truth. Walking the whole perimeter of the house, they looked for any other inscriptions, but only the four cornerstone bricks were inscribed. Unless they had been covered too completely by ivy, there were no others. Emmie saw her home with different eyes. She had lived within the walls for over 20 years since marrying into the Beaufort family and had wandered the grounds. She had never known the old house, her home, this intimately, but had grown to love it anyway. Emmie still didn’t believe that any house had a personality, but this house felt……….different. 

“It is not length of life, but depth of life.”

 ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Chapter One, Episode 131 - Up to the House - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

The number of revisions my episodes go through begin long before they are ever posted. I am improving slowly but steadily. Today's many revisions within this episode: back and forth sentence restructuring and reshaping throughout, with attention to my over-use of both proper and improper pronouns until I was satisfied. 

Conservationist and author, Rachel Carson describes it best:

“Given the initial talent.....writing is largely a matter of applications and hard work, of writing and rewriting endlessly, until you are satisfied that you have said what you want to say as clearly and simply as possible. For me that usually means many, many revisions.” 

~ Rachel Carson

Up to the House

There was little to visit about that evening. Neither Dez nor Emmie wanted anything more than quiet. Plans to watch a movie set aside, Emmie was reading, Dez was sketching. Emmie put her book down and watched her sister sketch with an ordinary pencil. Lines and curves appeared on a very ordinary piece of paper from the coffee table. Familiar shapes of a house and a large tree appeared. Emmie, sounding surprised, said “You’re sketching this house, Dez.” Her sister stopped mid sketch, glanced up at Emmie, looked back down at her work. “It just started out as a few lines. The house just materialized - kind of like Sarah does.” Dez had been curled up on the couch, using a hardcover book for an easel. She put down her book, page and pencil, uncurled her legs and sat up. Putting one foot up on the opposite knee to massage the tingling numbness away, she said “Has anybody ever really looked at your house? Like it is a part of us all. I mean, I’m not here that often so I shouldn’t really include myself, but I did live here when we were self-isolating.” Emmie looked thoughtful and walked to the living room window. “Of course you're a part of us, Dez. Speaking of Sarah, I wonder what she knows about the house, if anything.” Dez stood up gingerly, testing her balance on her wakening foot. “I’m not sure that’s what I mean. Not just the architecture or even what has happened in the house, but the house itself. I’m not making sense even to me.” 

But it made sense to the old house as it settled with the creaking of its age. 

“I should say: the house shelters day-dreaming, the house protects 

the dreamer, the house allows one to dream in peace.”

~ Gaston Bachelard, The Poetics of Space

Chapter One, Episode 130 - Taking a Break - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

Once typographical errors become minimal, needed revision becomes the real work of writing. Getting an idea streamed down on a page can be relatively easy. Reviewing, after hours or weeks, reveals little gaps or too much filler. Todays revision involved both. Gaps are the addition of details missed in the first several drafts. Too much filler, being too wordy, was trimmed away. (i.e. ands, buts, thats,)

Taking a Break

‘When life begins

    feeling too distant, 

When, unknowingly,

   distances lengthen

Gaps form and waver all around………. Dez had been trying to write a few lines of poetry, when Emmie came back into the dining room. The sisters had decided that they needed time off together, away from the busy and bustle of either the Estate or Hartley. Pandemic self-isolation had taught them the value of rest and relaxation away from the world and, as mature women, they enjoyed one another's company. 

While Emmie was downstairs, Dez was trying her hand at writing poetry - something she’d done in high school but had left behind with her teenage self. Her sister had gone down to the kitchen to talk with Cook. “Dez and I going to hibernate upstairs for the next twenty four hours, Cook. Is there anyway we can get our meals sent upstairs. I'm ashamed of myself. For as long as I've lived here, I really should know how meals arrived upstairs piping hot and ready to serve.” Cook smiled at her employer. “Don’t you worry about it, Miss Emmie. That old dumbwaiter still works so neither of you has to come downstairs, unless you want a midnight snack. I’ll send up your meals at the regular times and some snacks, you send the dirty dishes back. If you want anything else just send a note down. I’ll send up a fresh thermos of coffee and one of tea in the morning and in the afternoon. The two of you just have yourselves a good visit up there. It’s high time you did, too.”

Emmie contacted Brigitte and Joey to cancel anything for the next day. Joey at part-time, would just have his shift replaced so he didn’t lose any pay. On a straight salary, Brigitte’s pay wouldn’t be any less. The sudden and welcome day off would be compensation for overtime hours she had worked. Dez called Mr. Jorgensson to let him know she’d be unavailable for the next day. She wouldn’t be seeing Matt for a few days, but texted him that she would busy to prevent any unwarranted calls. All that settled, Emmie and Dez, in jeans and sweat shirts, put on their sneakers and went out for the evening. Not far, though. Just to the track where they had jogged most days of their self isolation. When they came back, there was hot chocolate and fresh popcorn on the dumbwaiter. Pyjamas on, they settled in with their goodies, blankets and a good movie. The little resident ghost, Sarah, had floated outside to her swing.

“There is virtue in work and there is virtue in rest. 

Use both and overlook neither.”

~ Alan Cohen

Chapter One - Episode 129 - A Second Reunion - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
Another coincidental Episode. Just as I am taking my own break, the sisters are taking theirs.

Situationally Theirs continues to evolve, developing into another aspect of the craft of writing. The writing muscle I've been exercising most recently is the 'revision' muscle. Not an easy exercise to engage in, it challenges the writer's fragile ego and old learning from school days. Only after a gap of time am I able to see a clearer, more creative sentence structure or wording, letting go of the questionable brilliance of my first words. I will never again say that writing is not work. It may be sedentary but it does work the 'little grey cells' as fictional Detective Hercule Poirot so kindly tells us.

Revision is throughout this episode, improving sentence structure, and removing redundant words or phrases.  

A Second Reunion

“Where do we go from here, Dez?” Emelina had picked her sister up at 10 the next morning. Emmie had given Brigitte the day off so that she and Dez could spend some time together. They each wore their masks until they got to the park. Dez’s was hand-painted and fanciful. Her own, in light blue, coordinated with her outfit. 

“Emmie, we do need to talk.” Dez, glad to see her sister, was troubled. “More and more people are coming and going to the Estate, Em. Most are necessary. People that work on the estate, sometimes service people. I am beginning to feel kind of uncomfortable. After all, I don’t know where people are coming from, who they have been in contact with and what their Covid hygiene has been.” Dez had thought a lot about it when she noticed that she was spending less and less time at the Estate. When she was there, she seldom went into the house, preferring to be out in the orchard. Samuel, the yard man, had been her only contact. “I’ve enjoyed spending time with him. We’ve finished building the beehives and are still waiting for bees. It’s so frustrating - they’ve been on order for months. One delay after the other with no date in sight.” Explaining more about her concerns to her sister, Dez continued “My work out in the orchard and building the beehives has gotten me out of Hartley and my apartment. Mr. Jorgensson hasn’t had much work for me lately. It’s become too easy for me to just stay home where I'm comfortable and feel safe.”

The sisters were strolling along the walkway in the park. There had been an early morning rain, the skies still grey but clouds were drifting slowly away, opening the skies to shredded sunlight. Emmie was pensive. “I thought I hadn’t seen you lately, but didn’t think much of it. Martha and Digby got married, all of us went on some kind of holiday or, for you and Brigitte, workshops. Once we were all back, I just thought maybe I’d been too busy. Brigitte and I have gone over every inch of the Upstairs to ferret out anything old and unnecessary. Clearing the place to get to the basics of the rooms upstairs…..remember that ‘big idea’ I had when you and I were in self-isolation. Or were we just getting out of the self-isolation? I still think something could be done for the community with all the space I have…. Anyway, back to you, Dez. You have been keeping your distance, haven’t you? I didn’t know you were so worried.”

“To be honest, Em, ever since Dr. Crawford was out here, I've developed this almost paranoid attitude about everybody. It was easy to be kind of complacent - is that the right word? -  complacent about this pandemic when I was out at the Estate. Do you know of anybody that was even a little bit sick with this virus until Dr. Crawford came out here?” Emmie was stunned. She had had similar feelings, but they had almost vanished when Jeremy explained all the precautions required of health care workers. It never occurred to her to wonder about how everyone else was feeling about the potential dangers because of ……..What was the long word Jeremy used……transmissibility. What precautions had he taken before coming from the hospital after being in such close contact with so many with the virus? 

“So how do we solve this, Emmie? Maybe I just needed to talk with you. The distance was getting too distancy - that’s not even a word. But that’s what it’s been feeling like.” Dez stopped in the middle of the path. “It’s been like we’ve been sliding backwards… .and going forward at the same time. I don’t want us to lose this sister thing we got back, because we’re too busy or too afraid. Busy building up our lives and too afraid of the virus attacking us from the middle of the air. We need a solution.” Dez was almost in tears. Emmie had the Estate and all the people on it and didn’t seem to know her good fortune. Dez was feeling incredibly sorry for herself, feeling alone and lost. “I’m sorry, Emmie. I’m just being irrational. Irrational and scared for me.”

“Well, little sister……..oops, I forgot, you don’t like it when I call you that.” Emmie did tend to get patronizing when Dez was frightened, even though the two of them were approaching 50. “Let me try that again. Here’s a suggestion. We could try a sort of ‘date night’ once a week. Or maybe just an afternoon?” 

Dez was relieved. “Even a phone call if one of us hasn’t heard from the other after a week. It would be too easy to become strangers again. Getting close again was almost easy when it was just the two of us, but now we each have more people in our lives. More interests. You’re much busier with your house and staff and all…..” Dez let her words drain away. 

The sisters had walked the loop in the park and arrived back at the parking lot. Emmie checked her watch “It’s just noon now. We can pick up some lunch here or…..and only if you feel comfortable…..you can pick up some overnight things and come out to the Estate. We'll go out to the orchard, so you can show me what you’ve accomplished. I know nothing about bees, but would wild bees be attracted to the empty hives?” They got into the  car. Backing out of the driveway, Emmie turned towards, her sister's apartment. “And I'd like a sleepover in here every few weeks at your place.”

When her sister asked about the bees, Dez became animated. “As a matter of fact, they’re called foraging bees and the short answer is ‘yes’. I’ve been on google and found answers to that. I’d like to see what Samuel knows about it. I’ll bring my mask and hand sanitizer. It will take me a just a minute to get my things.” She got out the car, started up the walk….stopped suddenly, turned and said. … “Next sleepover here next weekend. Be right back.”

“Maybe we needed to break a little, so we could put

 ourselves back together more beautifully than before.”

~ Leah Raeder,  Cam Girl

Chapter One, Episode 128 - The Cinderella Effect - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update
A short revision, some sentence structure has been improved. The order of some sentences within a paragraph seemed disjointed, so I did some rearranging. 

The Cinderella Effect

Emelina Beaufort thought about her life as a princess. Michael Beaufort had been her Prince Charming. Her mother-in-law, old Mrs. Beaufort, had been her fairy godmother, giving her all the things her parents had not. Mr. and Mrs. Eliot had provided much for their children, but gems, jewels and pretty things were not in their plans for their girls. With Michael, there had been no glass slipper, there would be only shelves of hand made shoes. Her carriage was not a beautiful pumpkin pulled by prancing horses, but a wedding present of a sleek cherry red Fiat convertible. Emelina did not have to do anything but be beautiful and charming. 

~~~~~

She stopped being a princess the moment her phone rang in the middle of the night on March 25th, 2020. It was the Hartley City Jail. “Can you come to pick up your sister?” Her sister? What had she done? Why is she in jail? Half asleep and alone in the big old mansion, she had to fend for herself for the first time in five years. There was no staff to ferry her about, to bow to her every wish. The day before, and because of the Covid19 viral panic that  descended on the world, they had retreated to their own homes. For the first time in much more than the ten years they had been estranged, she was being asked to take care of her sister, Dez. 

~~~~~

Emelina had worked hard since that fateful nighttime call, still charming and still beautiful, but without the Princess glitz and bling. She and Dez, working together, had both become stronger physically, mentally and within themselves. Emelina knew that she would not be estranged from Dez again. In the kitchen, she made her nighttime cup of tea and was about to go upstairs when her phone pinged. It was Dez. A simple message: ‘We need to talk.’ Emelina’s message was almost as simple: ‘Yes, we do. I’ll pick you up tomorrow morning.’

“You never let a serious crisis go to waste. And what I mean by that is,

it’s an opportunity to do things you think you could not do before.”

~ Rahm Emanuel, Former mayor of Chicago

Chapter One, Episode 127 - Stop and Think - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

An interesting coincidence! Just as I am Hitting Pause on any new episodes, here is Dez re-evaluating her place with the Estate in Stop and Think. (A 'Staff meeting' is in the offing in the next week).

Revision, scattered throughout, involved removal of unnecessary pronouns, redundant phrases, more clearly, showing Dez's thoughts. 

Stop and Think

She pulled her car onto the shoulder of the road. Turning it off, releasing her seat belt,  she sat back and stared up the tree lined lane. From where she sat she couldn’t see the Beaufort Mansion. A pretty grand name for a plain brick home. Plain only in its design, a gigantic box constructed of bricks, mortar, wood and nails. A box that had contained the lives of families for over two centuries.

When Desperanza Eliot had walked into the Global Grand Bank branch on the early evening of March 25, 2020, she had no idea…..no idea at all…… that her life would become entwined with the lives in any grand mansion at all, let alone Hartley's well known Beaufort Estate. She was plain Dez Eliot. She worked at various jobs. She had friends and relationships. Except for one that had become very important: her sister, Emelina. Estranged from her sister for over ten years, there was no reason for Dez to think that she would do anything but work and go out with friends, go home to her humble apartment, do a sketch or painting, and go to bed. 

But would her relationship with her sister and her sister’s estate stand the test of time? Dez smiled as she remembered all that had transpired in the past four months. Each event, even the encounters with a little ghost, had been the most enjoyable events of her life. She had grown fond of all the people of the Beaufort Estate. Cook, for her delicious, generous meals and snacks. Martha for her welcoming kindness towards Dez. Digby, doing so much more than just a butler. Samuel! His stories of how things grow, history of the estate and the affection he would never admit for Cook. She loved working in the orchard but did not feel that she had made much progress. And the apiary? Still no bees, on hold because she was not completely ready. The bees had been ordered but fortunately, the company had delayed the shipment more than once. Reacquainted with Matt Hamilton, an orchardist and apiarist, he was her 'go to guy' for his practical knowledge of orchards and bees. Knowledge she needed if she were to develop the Estate's orchard. Their relationship had blossomed into an easy friendship.

Dez had needed this stop and think at the roadside so she could grasp once more how she fit in to this world. Should she continue with the work on the orchard under the dubious title of Project Manager? She knew one thing for certain: she would not become estranged from Emmie again. Dez picked up her phone and was ready to call Emmie, but sent her a text instead. “We need to talk.”

“Far away in the sunshine are my highest aspirations. I may not reach them, 

but I can look up and see their beauty, believe in them, 

and try to follow where they lead.”

~ Louisa May Alcott