Winter's Banquet

The textured colours of winter

Brilliant red berries

Glittering white snow

A backdrop of azure skies ~

Banquets for the birds 

Feasts for my eyes.

“Small cheer and great welcome makes a merry feast.”

~ William Shakespeare

Tracking

Rabbit tracks hop into the trees

Birds scratch the crusted glittering snow

My tracks sink into another’s while

Trees shadow the passage of the winter sun.

"You will be remembered forever by the tracks you leave."

~Navajo Tradition

Not a Rant

Tonight, a rant. No, it’s not about masks - I have new attractive ones to wear. It’s not about new restrictions - as long as I can get outside in the snow for a good walk, I’m good. I’m sad to say, it’s not even about desperately missing my sons, missing all my family - some just across the city or across the country, one in another country. I only wanted to make cookies - ginger snaps to be precise. I had all the ingredients because I get my groceries delivered. So what was I ranting about? I couldn’t find the beaters for my hand mixer. I did finally find them and cleaned out a couple of drawers in the process. And some people are worried about all these pandemic issues. 

“ Vehemence without feeling is but a rant.”

~ George Henry Lewes

Author's - I had to write this on my iPad in order to get a photo on my page. By the way - good cookies - maybe a bit too spicy but I'll check again tomorrow to make sure.

Chapter Two, Episode Eight - A Cautionary Tale - Situationally Theirs

Review, Revision, Edit and Update

The most obvious change needed was the addition of a photo image. Using a rather convoluted technique, I have adapted to computer changes on my laptop. 

The written changes to Brigitte's story were mostly minor, except in the second paragraph:  Sentence structure, realignment of sentences to create an improved flow. In Brigitte's story, which I treat much like dialogue and don't wish to change much, I did note a couple of verb tenses that Brigitte would not have used and corrected them. 

I questioned the title of this piece as not incredibly appropriate, however am leaving it as is. The caution may be related to her experience with Mrs. Beaufort (Emelina).

A Cautionary Tale

Although Brigette Smithson had only been at the Beaufort Estate for almost five years, she had lived almost two lives. At least that’s how she thought of it. The first four years had tested her commitment to a paycheque. That’s how she thought of it…..to start with. Brigitte had had a variety of jobs - tree planting, waitressing, being a nanny, anything that kept a roof over her head and the lights on. When she ran out of jobs and living options, she returned from her wanderings to live with her parents. She needed a paycheque. Unemployment insurance was barely enough to pay her parents rent. They had not asked her to pay rent, but she had insisted. “I’m haven’t come back here to live off of you. Put it in the bank, go on a holiday but I’m paying rent and if I can I’ll help with groceries. I’ve cleaned a lot of houses since high school so that’s another thing I can do to earn my keep.” 

Brigitte's turn to tell more of her story was interesting for her. She had never written much about her life except in letters home to her parents. After talking with them, she spoke with Martha, the housekeeper that hired her and Cook, who kept her well fed about what to write. Writing was something she enjoyed. On her travels, she had always found time to write some little thing, penning poems and stories or just describing the landscape. Settling on the first four years at the Beaufort Estate, she decided on a short autobiography. 

~~~~~

I needed a job. Studying the classifieds every day and sending out resumes was just not getting me anywhere. It was a pretty odd resume: nanny, tree planting, pumping gas, waiting tables, cleaning houses, dishwashing. There were more, but none except the two years I spent as nanny, seemed very respectable. But I enjoyed every one of them. The people I met, the places I traveled to. In the summer, when I was tree planting, sitting outside with the rest of the planters in the evening was amazing. Someone brought a guitar, I had a little hand drum, another guy had a panpipe. We’d have a bonfire to keep the flies and mosquitoes away and roast wieners and marshmallows. It’s a pretty romantic memory - and there was romance on those evenings - but it had a glow around it that pushed away the drudgery of our work. But I digress, I needed a job now that I was back in Hartley with my parents. Twenty-nine years old with very little to show for myself. It was time to buckle down. But to what. After another unsuccessful job search, sending out resumes, walking the sidewalks and being rejected, I was so depressed that I was ready to go on the road again. Dad had been reading the paper as usual after supper one evening.  “Brige. Did you see this job in the classifieds? You’ve circled several other places, but not this one. The Beaufort Estate. I know their chauffeur, Giles Thornton. He tells me the pay is good, with benefits, and everyone’s pretty nice out there. He doesn’t have much good to say about Mrs. Beaufort but he likes the pay.” 

“What kind of a job is it dad?” Brigette had seen it, but it hadn’t held her attention. She wanted something in town.

“Well, there’s some housecleaning and being a ‘Lady’s Maid’. I haven’t heard that title for a long time, except on that Upstairs Downstairs series. What do you think, honey?”

“Well, dad, I might just as well check it out. I don’t have to take it, but if your friend says good pay and benefits, it sounds good.”

~~~~~

I called the Beaufort Estate….Digby and Martha interviewed me. I thought it was strange that a huge mansion had a butler, a housekeeper, a cook and a gardener and they were hiring me… all for one person: Mrs. Emelina Beaufort. Digby was all business. Hours and salary, vacation days and benefits. Martha was warm and chatty. She very diplomatically told me that ‘Mrs. Beaufort, only 47 years old!, is still in deep grief for Mr. Michael, her husband that passed not long ago. She can be quite a handful.” Everything seemed in order, Mrs. Beaufort’s condition didn’t bother me, that is until I was looking after her. Lady’s Maid was definitely the right title. I didn’t know that I’d have to wear a silly maid’s uniform. Even Miss Em - that’s Mrs. Beaufort - said they were silly. At the time though, if I tried to leave the frilly cap at home, Martha always had a spare. At least they were laundered with the Estate laundry, so I didn’t have to worry about any ironing. I found out later that Miss Em really didn’t care about the uniforms that much. It was her mother-in-law that tried to really have an upstairs downstairs environment. Getting back to the work, Miss Em really wasn’t very well. She ate like a bird or not at all, she only got out of bed for her appointments and functions, and her moods were all over the place. My experience waitressing and nanny to four unruly children really paid off. In the mornings, after she had had her tea in bed - Martha or Cook brought it upstairs - I served it to Miss Em as though she was royalty. Then, after she showered, I did her hair, nails and makeup, but it was like dressing a Barbie doll. I never knew what mood she was in. Many days, she didn’t care what she wore, other days she knew exactly what she was going to wear, right down to the jewelry and shoes, and then there’d be the days when she didn’t like anything. The dress was the wrong colour or made her look fat. The diamond earrings looked ‘wrong’ and she would fling them across the room. I think that the only thing that prevented her from crumbling were the appointments and functions that she attended. Miss Em tells me that I was her rock, but I just treated her with kindness because I could see she was a real mess inside. Oh, I was firm with her and didn’t let her railroad me. If she cried, I just let her cry, sat with her if she wanted and washed the tears from her face. When she got angry and started to shriek at me, I would just leave the room. In all the jobs I’ve had, the four years taking care of her tested every lesson I ever learned. The other part of my job description, housecleaning, was easy in comparison. 

Then the COVID19 pandemic hit us and I had to leave Mrs. Beaufort. I worried about her and really didn’t know how she would manage. When we met again after several weeks apart, it was Miss Em that I met. The Mrs. Beaufort I knew had turned into Miss Em. Lovely and kind - and can dress herself. I still work for her, but I am now a Personal Assistant to her. I no longer have to do any housekeeping, because I accompany her to lawyers and accountants and help her make plans for the Estate. Both of us are still learning. 

~~~~~

Brigitte read over her story, folded it, put it in an envelope and slid it into a pocket of her briefcase. “I’ll have Miss Em read it over tomorrow. Or maybe not.”

“Experience is the teacher of all things.”

~ Julius Caesar

Book Review: What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton

Hillary Rodham Clinton’s autobiography covers the years 2012 to 2016. Four years of hard work and planning to become the first female President of the United States. She, unfortunately, did not win that election. What Happened by Hillary Rodham Clinton, for me, was a very heavy read. Another book group member said it was an easy read. I suspect that, had I not been following this year’s U.S. election and Covid19 updates, it would have been very interesting. Hillary Rodham Clinton writes in a very conversational style. In her book she calls herself ‘nice’ as one of her problems; she speaks forthrightly about her opponent, Donald Trump. Accepting and explaining her mistakes, she recognizes her strengths: family, children, women and the value of policy to improve the lives of her countrymen and women. She dedicates a section specifically about the difficulties women face when they even think about approaching the proverbial ‘glass ceiling’, let alone dare to reach for it. Her description of the convoluted and pressure cooker nature of American politics has not lessened my confusion. She also discusses what she sees as the voter inequities of the Electoral College. Gun control, emails and Russian cyber interference are all topics she addresses in her book. A very detailed writer, she included many names, dates and events. Some I recognized from different news reports, but very many I did not. 

Her family, all important to her, she speaks with great love for her mother Dorothy, who passed away in 2011 at age 92. She calls her husband, Bill Clinton, her best friend and does write very briefly of marital troubles. No details there! She writes lovingly and with great pride in her daughter Chelsea and her granddaughter Charlotte.

“But the politics of cultural identity and resentment were 

overwhelming evidence, reason and personal experience.”

~ Hillary Rodham Clinton, What Happened (Page 50)

Author: Hillary Rodham Clinton 

Copyright:  2017

Publisher: Simon & Schuster Paperbacks

Type: Autobiography

Format: Paperback

ISBN: 978-1-5011-7556-5

ISBN: 978-1-5011-7840-5 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-5011-7557-2 (ebook)

**Author's note: This update only includes the photo of the book cover. The text and book information is unchanged.

Spell and Sparkle

no photos to stir my imagination 

no fit to my words 

one leg knocked from under

standing still slowly

breathing into my soul

my feet feel solid beneath me

the magic of the written word

spirals and curls from my fingers

to spell and sparkle this humble poem

“Words and magic are two powerful forces that can change the world.”

~ Amy Neftzger, The War of Words

Status: Covid19

 

We have become

like islands

surrounded by ice

roiling life below

waiting for the ice to break

Like islands

we are filled with life

growing and learning

despite claustrophobic restrictions

we will survive.

“We each survive in our own way.”

~ Sarah J. Maas, Throne of Glass