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estdeus_innobisMonday, July 5th. Backyard of the Dormouse
As the night falls
Rose lays on a blanket underneath the willow tree, gurgling in utter delight. Dusk is almost done, not that one can tell with how overcast it was today. But I can, just in the subtle dip in the temperature and the way the breeze plays in my hair. Also? The fireflies have made their nightly appearance, as they always do at this time of night. The willow tree does not need the faerie lights tgo be turned on, it is aglow with living lights, as are the rose bushes. The whole yard twinkles, and my daughter is entralled by it.
We... well... I spent the better part of an hour chasing them around the yard with Rose on my hip, cupping them in my hand. They would crawl about my fingers, then fly off, blinking. I even coaxed a few of them onto Rose's little, chubby fingers. I think they could hear her delighted shrieks all the way to the Whitechapel.
But now she is starting to get drowsy, and is content to lie on soft blankets in the grass and watch the light show above her. As for me...
Jared dropped it off earlier today. I wasn't sure how I would feel, when I saw it. From what it was... to what it had become. And truly, it was just a pole. Like any other pole or bannister or piece of non-descript wood. But when I took in into my hands?
Oh, it sang! It was still mine, still a part of me, still spoke to that part of me that I tried to pack away, but can never really be stifled. Maybe, with this, I can repurpose that dark part of me.
So while my daughter coos and babbles to the fireflies, I work with the staff. It;s been several years since I last used a quarter-staff in stage work, but it comes back quickly. In the faint glow of the house lights, I work with the pole, and it slices through the air with a pleasing whistle. Oh, I can't wait until it's complete!
(open)
As the night falls
Rose lays on a blanket underneath the willow tree, gurgling in utter delight. Dusk is almost done, not that one can tell with how overcast it was today. But I can, just in the subtle dip in the temperature and the way the breeze plays in my hair. Also? The fireflies have made their nightly appearance, as they always do at this time of night. The willow tree does not need the faerie lights tgo be turned on, it is aglow with living lights, as are the rose bushes. The whole yard twinkles, and my daughter is entralled by it.
We... well... I spent the better part of an hour chasing them around the yard with Rose on my hip, cupping them in my hand. They would crawl about my fingers, then fly off, blinking. I even coaxed a few of them onto Rose's little, chubby fingers. I think they could hear her delighted shrieks all the way to the Whitechapel.
But now she is starting to get drowsy, and is content to lie on soft blankets in the grass and watch the light show above her. As for me...
Jared dropped it off earlier today. I wasn't sure how I would feel, when I saw it. From what it was... to what it had become. And truly, it was just a pole. Like any other pole or bannister or piece of non-descript wood. But when I took in into my hands?
Oh, it sang! It was still mine, still a part of me, still spoke to that part of me that I tried to pack away, but can never really be stifled. Maybe, with this, I can repurpose that dark part of me.
So while my daughter coos and babbles to the fireflies, I work with the staff. It;s been several years since I last used a quarter-staff in stage work, but it comes back quickly. In the faint glow of the house lights, I work with the pole, and it slices through the air with a pleasing whistle. Oh, I can't wait until it's complete!
(open)
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