Pidgie T's

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Surprising Oneself and Making Friends!

On my way to a friend's for a surprise visit I smelled coals burning. Down the block on one of the side streets the origin of this irresistible perfume revealed itself. A "Smokey Joe" bar-B-Q on a stoop. A boy and girl sitting on the steps by the flaming coal-pot.
I had to get in on this.
I asked if it was a "public bar-b-q" and then gently wove myself into the fabric of their evening. They were admirably open to my introduction. I shared my rasberries. They shared their grilled asparagus. A couple of them would be officially graduating in a week from university. A couple were older like me. One was from Oregon. One would be working in Cape May for the Summer. One was a freelance photographer. One was a theater major at BU. One was a history buff. It was neat to get a flavor of these people's lives in such an unrehearsed, informal way. I'm grateful for the friendly reception and also proud of my own unintimidated instigation of an acquaintanceship. Why doesn't this happen more often? Anyone?
Something neat is that one of the party works at REI, which is a type of outdoor/ adventure equipment co-op. I told him that I had been there the other day to buy a few specific things. He wasn't working that day but had he been I would have asked him questions and talked with him about my plans rather than this other fellow who is apparently called "Abel" and works the same position. The point is, last Sunday I had a helpful chat with one employee (Abel), and a few days later I met someone who knows the former personally and works the same exact position.....I love it when places shrink like that! It makes the world seem less like a mountain range and more like a large garden...People as the plants (native, exotic, cultivated)- traceable, recognizable, and worthy of observation.......

All I did was decide to take a walk!

Rant, rant, rant....time for bed.

Springtime scribble at the trainstation.

The solar noon angle is high.

To paint, to write, to blow a dandelion's orb of seeds; the sun's caresses and glances are invitations to creativity, to exploration, and trust in the mythical.

It is always in Spring that these expectations exist to feel beauty and meaning continuously, everywhere.

As the world tends to disappoint, it is also a season of violent polarizations in mood where Melancholy presides over a court of glees and glums.

Sixteen Years Earlier,....

"Race you to the hedges," shouted one eight-year-old to the other. And they were off, Edith's dress flapping against her little legs as she ran across the lawn. Tailing her was Robin. As he overtook her, Edith tried blocking him with her right arm. He thrust it down and sped ahead with a joyful shout. A moment later, just as he reached the hedge and would have slowed himself, a cat ran out, and with another yell, though not the victorious kind, he lurched head-long into the bushy wall. Edith collapsed in a heap of shrieking laughter. Robin extracted himself from the hedge with some effort and sat next to her, grumpily plucking tiny twigs and leaves from his clothes and hair. The hedge showed a fresh, boy-sized cavity which Edith could not lay her eyes on without crowing and flopping back onto the grass in hysterics. 

Once recovered, she quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks and said,

"Do not worry, Mama won't be mad. Oh, you're hurt! Let's get you to Mrs. Hornby. She'll treat those scratches!" Robin had a few lights cuts on his face from the collision. They walked back to house, Edith's arm wrapped around his shoulders. He was smiling again.

Chapter 3

In keeping with his promise to interview the gentlefolk of the area on the subject of the mysterious gem, Robin had commenced his efforts by paying a visit to Edith. After he had gone, she convened with her mother in the parlor from which, for the last five years, Mrs. Ockley had scarsley ventured but to dine and sleep.
Edith's mother was a very slight, elderly woman. Recently, her eyes had clouded over with cataracts. For this reason, Edith could often be found reading aloud or practicing the piano forte for her mother's amusement (most reliably when there was some social event taking place which her mother would otherwise have happily attended). Mrs. Ockley greatly appreciated this entertainment as before her eyes went out, she had been in the habit of paying frequent visits around the neighborhood and walking through the garden. Though her sister, who lived only three miles down the road, would call weekly and other neighbors also paid regular visits, there was now a great deal of time in which Mrs. Ockley had to be contented with those impressions that reached her in the parlor by the window. The maid often recounted the village gossip for her keen ears. Birds sometimes sat on the window sill and recited for her their honest poetry. Edith's company and personal reflection, however, were the most highly valued comforts.
Edith spoke of the extraordinary event of the previous evening.
"I wonder, my girl, why your cousin was given leave to traipse all around the county with it. The whole area must now be aware of his carrying it. Any miscreant would think himself foolish not to seize such an opportunity."
"You're right." Edith sat considering these notions. What else could be done to discover the gem's backround? If the inquiry became less intimate- say, an advertisement in the Times- a large number of individuals claiming to have lost an identical ruby could be expected to surge into the village with grandiose tales and performances intended to evince rightful ownership. That was not an option. Should it be sent to London to be investigated by the police? Perhaps, if Robin was unsuccessful, it could be handed over to the authorities, or a private investigator employed. However, the stone could not have suddenly trans-located from a vault or jewelry case. It had been either intentionally or accidentally left in the Engles' kitchen; intentionally or accidentally tucked by someone into the pastry. Seeing that the entire batch of fiddlehead tortes had been overdone save the one containing the ruby, it also seemed plausible to Edith that the certain torte could have been removed from the oven and "fiddled with" while the rest continued to bake.
What worried her mother also began to worry Edith, and she decided to send Robin a letter advising him to cache the ruby in a safe place whilst occupied by the business of uncovering its origins. He would have to change his approach and thoroughly describe the gem to those he queried. A giant ruby, after all, was a rare enough thing not to be mistaken or forgotten. It could not be safe for him or the stone to travel around as such an unguarded pair. She penned Robin her thoughts as Mrs. Ockley listened intently to the meaningful scribble.

Chapter 2.5

He collapsed onto the bed, an induced bleariness softening the threats of his unsure future. What's done is done, he told himself. Sensitivity had been temporarily shed through swills of liquor, but his mind was still trapped in the undertow of a certain subject. It was now by habit that he dwelt upon the problem. Day and night, thinking.
He had been there for weeks before identifying an opportunity, an innocent, public occasion for the task to move into its next phase. It could have been easier, too. His jaw clenched as he remembered how simple the plan was meant to be. Go to the county, find the family, and bring back the son of twenty-four years. But the surname of this family, the title disguising one's true identity, and the only clue for such an undertaking was permanently gone from his head. When it had been told to him, there were bottles being passed and loot being divided. He remembered the evening well. A mean fire with meat roasting, the sky spread over with orange and pink. Worth had patted his shoulder and motioned with his head as if to say "come with me", so he had followed along the shore a few yards, and there the business was laid out .
"You're the only one I would consider asking to go. You, unlike the rest of the crew, have wits as well as guts. I can imagine you leading your own expedition one day, commanding a crew, securing a real fortune... If you accept my offer and carry through, you'll possess all you need, except for that bit of luck, to become just as rich and feared a captain as I."
He was garuanteed two shares of whatever was taken while he was away. In addition to this, once returned, if successful, he would be given command of the Sapphire, a recently captured sloop.
"Ughf, three sheets, I was," grumbled Jasper as he kicked off his boots and pulled the blankets around himself. Many nights since had he spent with his head in his rough hands, cursing the surname he could no longer remember. He had located the nearest town, gone through the registry, but the space in his skull once occupied by the single, crucial word had collapsed. There was only a horrific blank.
"Take this," his Captain had said, holding out the large ruby, "and when you find the right man, give it to him. Tell him it's time to join Captain Adam Worth. But, don't let him out of your sight. You'll bring him regardless of what he thinks he wants. If you fail to return with him or with the stone, I'll find you and you'll die- squealing like a pig. " Captain Worth fixed him with a stare, grave and deadly, as the the ruby was passed between them, the offer accepted.
"Damn you, Worth," Jasper whispered in the dark. His familiarity with the Captain gave little reason to doubt that vengeance would be madly sought should Jasper break with his end of the bargain. Worth's threats, when unheeded, were always brought about- usually with more extravagant brutality than promised. No, Jasper would have to stay and wait. The ruby had already attracted someone he could easily suspect. He had heard the young man's keen interest expressed in tones of a most familiar rapture, and if he failed to locate the right man, any one near his twenty-fourth year would need do. Zeal for pretty prizes could only serve to convince his master, and if his master was convinced, his fate was secure.

Good happens,......

It's never the wrong time to be grateful. In this whirl of worrying, so many "if"'s and "but"'s tossing us around, there is a surface at which an awareness of life's comedy, peace, and beauty can be breathed. When I am calm and patient inside, things actually happen. Good happens......
There is a vietnamese man who covers my real nails with artificial ones (I don't bite them this way). His English is not there yet, but tonight, after only a few casual questions, I learned that he is a brand new father with a month-old baby girl. This man, who has never said a word to me without being queried first, recently experienced something so pivotal and wondrous, and though I have seen him three times in the last month and a half, I never would have known if I hadn't been calm enough to volunteer a conversation and patient enough to wait for the words to form. How glad I am with choosing to be open and observant rather than sequestered by my own concerns. Just when I start feeling hopelessly misanthropic, something like this happens, my heart gushes with compassion and I love people again.

Chapter 1.5

Mrs. Engle was mortified. She left her breakfast untouched and sat at the table biting her fingernails instead; fixated by the idea that her reputation was on the brink of collapse.

“You cannot live on fingernails alone, dear, and they serve a greater purpose on your hands than on the floor. Make a husband happy and eat some toast. ” Mr. Engle pleaded as he quit the table. How could she help feeling agitated when the banquet which marked her debut performance as hostess Mrs. Bethany Engle had resulted in such horror and humiliation? Mrs. Engle was sure that the whole community must by now be blaming her for the accident and strongly doubting her abilities to keep the staff in order. She could see them all rolling their eyes and shaking their heads at such novel inexperience. Or perhaps people would be wondering whether the ruby-ridden torte was a ploy to eliminate for her husband the temptation of Miss Rosewood’s attractiveness.
Mrs. Engle was so insecure and so obsessed with appearances that she insisted on planning another function in a few days time with the hope that impressions from the first of that season would be erased. She gave the invitations to be delivered, and admonished every cook and baker to meticulously inspect all intended ingredients in future, at the risk of instant expulsion.

Chapter 2.

"But how is it that you were given the ruby? If it wasn't claimed by anyone, shouldn't Miss Rosewood have received it as a sort of recompense for the trauma she experienced?" Robin and Edith had reached the Spanish Oak on the far side of the lawn and were enjoying a short respite.

"That would have been the end of the story, and who could settle for such an ending? Who could consider such an occurrence to be 'just another time when a mysterious gemstone materialized inside one's torte'? Of course, this was to be prevented at all costs. I announced that some effort must be made to discover the ruby's true owner and how the gem could have strayed as far as Mrs. Engle's kitchen. Mrs. Engle could not have tried harder to diminish the party's interest in such particulars (such an event was, no doubt, of great embarrassment to her), but her hushing was not to be supported. I was all curiosity, and set about interviewing everyone with a contagious level of earnest. Once a proper buzz was in effect, I made it known that I would be traveling around the county with the gem to make inquiries, and that, as they all knew I would be taking it, there was no risk of its suddenly going unaccounted for."

Edith was quite used to the her cousin's stubborn impulses, though they sometimes gave rise to concern for the futurity of his good reputation. He was well-liked by the other families in the area as he was handsome, well-mannered, and a sparkling confabulator. It was also common knowledge that he was next in line to inherit the family fortune. Therefore, his attentions were much more assiduously sought than those of the other bachelors in the area, and in this Edith found great amusement as he was liable to be awkwardly enveloped by an effusion of saccharine smiles and fawnings at almost every social function he attended.

"So, my dear madame, is this malevolent gem at all familiar to you?" Robin held it up with feigned formality for her to inspect. It was the largest gem she had ever seen, with a diameter of almost two centimeters. Its cut was stunning and when the gem caught a beam of light glinting through the budding canopy, it glowed a red so rich that for a moment nothing else was known to them

Edith smiled and shook her head. She had never seen anything like it.

Storytime......

The door opened and in blew Robin with enough enthusiasm to dissolve Edith’s reveries.

“I bring extremely good news.” Edith sat upright and cocked her head accordingly.

“Well,” he continued, “ I say ‘good’ because it is of the most peculiar kind.”
“Excellent. My imagination is long overdue for a good stretch. Let's here it."
“Last night, at the Spring Banquet hosted by Mr. Edwin Engle, (where I could not but notice your absence- after, you can explain this to me) Lady Rosewood was said to have been nibbling a fiddlehead torte when her front tooth was most shockingly broken off by the unyielding surface of a large ruby disguised therein.” He crossed the room to the bench where he often sat during his visits with Edith, and removing an apple from his pocket, contented himself with the ration while she stared silently into space.

“Am I to understand that this gem wasn’t claimed by Lady Engle and that it didn’t merely fall from its setting in Lady Rosewood’s necklace onto the torte? Also, I am surprised you should forget; my allergies to tulips are too severe to permit my joining any of Mr. Edwin’s Spring parties. He practically supplants his dining hall with his greenhouse. I would not have lasted five minutes.”

Robin nodded as he tossed the apple core into the fireplace.

“So no one has any idea where the jewel came from? The bakers were questioned?”

Robin replied that, yes, Mrs. Engle's entire staff was brought forward, but to no advantage. The servers, cooks, and bakers were all very puzzled. The party did learn, however, that it had been the only fiddlehead torte to make it to the table. According to the head baker, who seemed particularly angry with one of his underlings, the batch of tortes had been neglected while in the oven, and the one containing the ruby had only just survived. These details had failed to remove anyone at the banquet from a thoroughly nonplussed state. Though, Robin suspected that the one of Miss Rosewood’s teeth felt it the most.

“Poor girl," sighed Edith. "I can’t imagine this will help to expedite a proposal from Mr. Wallis. What an unfortunate turn for her.”

“Indeed. Every time she smiled at me thereafter I was tormented by the desire not to look away but to revel in the change a missing tooth has given her countenance. Though, she deserves credit for such composure; parting her lips in public at all! I applaud her self-assurance.”

Though Robin seldom made these sorts of remarks in public, he was at ease to jest in such a way with Edith whom he had known from infancy and who he enjoyed provoking without the fear that offense could be taken.

“And where is the ruby now?” Edith rose and opened the windows to the racket of a great many starlings pecking through the lawn below. It was a perfect day; Mild, dry, and bright, and on turning around to ask Robin if he’d care to go walking, she was astonished to see a glimmering red thing stuck in his face. He released the gem from his scrunched eye with a laugh, and Edith, who couldn’t help but giggle, attempted to scold her cousin as they made their way out of doors.

Getting back on the blog...or the pen.

It has been a while. I have still been writing; though, only in journals and on random slips of paper in my pockets. The style has been different. This is due to the fact that I rarely write short stories or lengthy descriptions for myself alone...especially when there are other formal tasks at hand.
Therefore, this blog will become more of a reflection of my thoughts lately.

This is a mind like a cloud. It never settles. It never resembles exactly the same shape to anyone.

It can't stop blowing to other vantages. So what.

I have difficulty understand how people can remain attached to a single idea for their whole lives. How can this be done and the thrill of discovery not be done away with? The glory of anything soon fades with too much attention. Like a star under one's direct gaze. For those like me, the peripheral is most often what is truly seen. Thank goodness that art of all kinds is allowed, and often revered. Rational behavior is one of life’s most unfortunate demands. If the freedom to express what lies outside of sensible boundaries was withdrawn, a smile would be a very rare thing.

The mind is not free anymore. It is minion to the gods of competition and money. Those that are brave enough to stand in the sunlight of their own imagination and ideas are considered lost, worthless, irresponsible. How is this? How have people learned such self-denial so well as to scorn self-love, self-acceptance in others? No, ……we all must work one another into the ground.