Life within the Clouds
Eerie Eve ® James Field. Part 01
Morris sat on his potting shed steps and breathed slow and easy. Mansion life had many advantages: privacy among the best. He gazed around the garden in his care; it had been a good year; no hobgoblins to ruin his prize vegetables.
With eyes half closed, he chuckled at the idea of hobgoblins and the such. His garden thrived because of his skill, and in the unlikely event it should fail he wouldn’t blame his misfortune on imaginary evil spirits, like some people he knew would do.
He marvelled at the late summer sunset, the reddest he’d seen in years. Then he closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and smiled. At times, his wife, Sibyl, expected him to do the weirdest of tasks. There would be a full moon tonight and she would want him to traipse through the woods at midnight in search of toadstools.
The thought of rambling around in the woods late at night didn’t worry Morris. He could spend the night in a tent, beside the estate's small lake. Years had passed since he last camped out, and with silver moonlight bathing the landscape, the night would be fascinatingly mystical.
He strolled around the vegetable beds, past the herb garden, and into one of the mansion's back doors. It opened into a cavernous kitchen. Thinking he'd surprise Sibyl by remembering this special night, he said, "Make me a good packed supper, Woman. Tonight I shall go to the forest and pick those enchanted toadstools for you."
To be continued… The real world:
Here's a little piece of my world in Norway's arctic. This picture of the moon was taken from my lounge window, at 11:00 am. This is as light as it gets until the sun returns at the end of January!
Morris sat on his potting shed steps and breathed slow and easy. Mansion life had many advantages: privacy among the best. He gazed around the garden in his care; it had been a good year; no hobgoblins to ruin his prize vegetables.
With eyes half closed, he chuckled at the idea of hobgoblins and the such. His garden thrived because of his skill, and in the unlikely event it should fail he wouldn’t blame his misfortune on imaginary evil spirits, like some people he knew would do.
He marvelled at the late summer sunset, the reddest he’d seen in years. Then he closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and smiled. At times, his wife, Sibyl, expected him to do the weirdest of tasks. There would be a full moon tonight and she would want him to traipse through the woods at midnight in search of toadstools.
The thought of rambling around in the woods late at night didn’t worry Morris. He could spend the night in a tent, beside the estate's small lake. Years had passed since he last camped out, and with silver moonlight bathing the landscape, the night would be fascinatingly mystical.
He strolled around the vegetable beds, past the herb garden, and into one of the mansion's back doors. It opened into a cavernous kitchen. Thinking he'd surprise Sibyl by remembering this special night, he said, "Make me a good packed supper, Woman. Tonight I shall go to the forest and pick those enchanted toadstools for you."
To be continued… The real world:
Here's a little piece of my world in Norway's arctic. This picture of the moon was taken from my lounge window, at 11:00 am. This is as light as it gets until the sun returns at the end of January!
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