Also Spring, Week 9 - Message in a Bottle

To listen to the narration and hear how I put the episode together, check out this video:

*****

 These past few weeks... no - wait... these past few days! have been crazy. The mayor... oooh - the mayor... every time I think I've finally put it past me, it comes trotting back into my headspace and I feel the need to go off and do something. Something that allows me to refocus on myself and my wellbeing, that is! For now, whatever is happening in town can stay in town.

I wonder if the town turned on the old witch and that's a reason why she left. Not that I haven't heard (or imagined) a few different reasons already. Maybe there were a bunch of factors, one of which was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back, and the town was one. And by the town, I mean the mayor.

And there I go again!

One of the benefits of my working through my frustrations with the mayor is that I'm taking time to explore different areas more deeply. I've been to the Bog, the Isles, and the Grove, so I think I'll continue my explorations and go to the Loch. By which I mean the beach! A bit of a swim, some time in the sun (and more time in the shade - my lovely tan, as lovely as it is, doesn't need another burning to make it even darker!), pick a few reagents (of course!) and overall have a relaxing time away. 

Hopefully this relaxation time won't involve my being chased by hungry, flying lizards!

I do hope I can finally get the whole mayor thing out of my head, out of my body, out of my space. Until then, I'm going to focus on me-time.

I put a few things together, let the spirit house know I was headed out, then popped onto my broom and flew off.

What can I say about Vapour Trail now that she's been "enhanced" by Pop? She feels even more nimble than before, more able to dance in the air, and, of course, the constant glow emanating from the broom - it was the epitome of the phrase, "tripping the light fantastic".

I suppose I could've flown straight to Meltwater Loch using the existing path. I suppose I didn't need to slalom around trees and sometimes through foliage. And I suppose I didn't need to experiment a little with standing on the bristles and working the broom like a surfboard, laughing at the ridiculousness of it. 

I didn't need to. But I wanted to and I loved every minute! But I did want to go to the beach, so I did get there (eventually) and set up a spot in the dappled sun (but just steps from the water).

Note to self - set up a hammock! But that's something for a different day.

The day was perfect for laying in the warm sun, feeling the gentle breeze with a hint of salt, relaxing. No need to think about patients, no call to consider what I must do, and simply allow the day to pass without any worries, bothers, or distractions. *sigh* What a lovely feeling.

After a while, I decided to take a dip. It was... how should I put it?... teeth-chatteringly cold! Yes - refreshing, in much the same way that... actually, I don't know in what other way the refreshingness of a cold dip into a deep loch can be replicated! Brrr!!!

But it's also kind of addictive in its way. After getting out and warming up for a bit, I was ready for another round of plunging into the ice blue water again.

As I was getting in and out repeatedly, I figured I'd collect a few things. Nothing stressful or difficult to find - just things that required minimal effort to get.

Smooth Croak, for example. I'd collected the mucous from the colourful frogs before. This time I decided to offer one of them a new home. And just like that, one of them hopped towards Vapour Trail. I like simple!

And another simple request was made - this time for snails, producers of Slime Shell, to come live with me. A few started their slow but steady way towards the broom. 

Speaking of simple, I collected more Deep Reed. Last time there were Wigfish aplenty but this time there were no vain swimmers around.

In fact, I ended up with only two new things. The first was something called Mermaid's Gift. Why a toxic algae has "gift" in the name baffles me. And the fact that it's something primarily used to cure Male Pattern Baldness leaves, oh, I don't know, half the population of the world only seeing it as something not to put into a seafood stew!

That... it just irks me. A boy dies years ago and suddenly the Herbology School isn't letting students experience real-life experiences. Who knows how many girls disappeared or even died! But something happens to one boy (granted it was the head family's son) and everything has to change. Really!

And then that whole thing with the mayor! He makes some sort of accusation, or perhaps not even, and all of a sudden my reputation is being examined and judged. 

It's so frustrating!

But I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. Which brings me to the second new thing I found - a bottle. A sealed bottle. An old, sealed bottle. With, on my first examination of it, a letter inside. A message in a bottle. Rather than open it on the beach, I decided to bring it back with me to the cottage. 

I'm so glad I waited to open it!

With all these things found and collected (and the snails finally finishing their huge 100 metre trek to the broom - I couldn't help them - they have pride, you know), I decided to pack up and head back. 

Impatiently, I made my way back using the fastest route I could think of, got everything (and everyone) situated, made a quick meal, then, as it cooled, I opened the bottle. 

The reason I was so happy to have waited until I was home is because the bottle was packed with paper. Packed! It took a bit of coaxing to get the papers to come out without tearing. 

I began eating and reading. And reading. And reading some more. The amount of ink alone was enough to make the letter heavy, let alone the quality paper. And the bottle itself - it looked like one of those stained glass windows they use in posh mansions and houses of worship. I didn't think they were seaworthy! (Turns out they usually aren't - but this bottle, made to emulate those windows, was).

I won't bother trying to summarize everything here, but do know there was a lot said about the sender of the letter, who signed it "Lady Copeland". She talked about the sting of winter winds, the wish to see Stew and Andy (friends of hers. Minstrels I believe) in the coming months (having seen them on several of the preceding summers), and all sorts of domestic things happening in and around Imperial City. 

Imperial City?!? While I'd only become recently aware of such a place, this letter was from someone living there!

But there were also tales of difficulties. The police, apparently, were tasked not only with fighting crime but with controlling its citizens' behaviours as well. In particular, or at least for Lady Copeland, was the fact that while she desired to write, to be a poet or an author, to take her thoughts on the Rights of All (regardless of gender, race, colour, etc.) to the public, she couldn't. Not only was she prevented from publishing, she wasn't allowed to share her thoughts with anyone.

Being a lady of means meant that she did have access to things, mostly stored away in forgotten rooms inside her mansion. Ink and paper were easy - she could write to friends no problem. It was the bottle that was the big find for her because it had a magic on it that would allow it to act like a carrier pigeon (of sorts) - once it had found an endpoint, it could travel the waters between on its own.

Aside from the already mentioned day-to-day goings-on, and the brief thesis (as she described it, anyway. I didn't think it short!), she also included a poem because she hoped to find, not just someone interested in Equality, but also knowledgeable in literature. This is what she wrote:

Perambulating like doxie muskrats

Pennant-filled joyous colours

Accusatory commingling rough with sweet

Flabbergasted pawns enraged

Dissecting rainbows, vainglorious

    of crinoline and silk 

and asked for "honest feedback". 

I... ah... well... there are a lot of big words with lots of meaning in them but put together like that... ummm... I have no idea what it means! And maybe that's the point? I think I'm going to have to give the return letter a bit of a think. Maybe send Lady Copeland a sample of my poetry? But would someone like her enjoy what I write? I... I think I'll sleep on it!

*****

I slept on it. I can't say I found any clarity overnight, but maybe with pencil in hand and blank paper in front of me, I'll write something witty, or... *sigh* I think I'll just write what comes to mind.

With pencil hovering over paper but not knowing how to begin, I... 

What's all the racket? Why is everyone croaking? (or at least - why is everyone who naturally croaks croaking?)

Putting down my pencil (and secretly relieved at not staring at the blank page), I went outside to see what was up. I headed for Fen's place. MouseEye ended up on my shoulder halfway there. "The snails found something." 

The snails? Ok...

Minutes later, I found out what was all the fuss. There was a letter, addressed to the old witch, unopened. How it had ended up being mostly buried in bracken I'll never know, but what is certain is that the old witch never opened it.

I contemplated just leaving it, figuring it was not my business. But then I reasoned that if it affected the cottage or grounds, I should know. (And, to be honest, reading the letter meant not having to write mine!)

I thanked everyone for their diligence, then brought the letter back to the cottage. What was it that the letter said?

Turns out the old witch, when she was planning her journey to Imperial City, had actually had a bit of a schedule and had made lodging arrangements. This letter was in response to her request for a year's lease on a cottage outside of the city - which, given that she had her pet cow with her, made sense. However, in the reply, it said that while no cottages were presently available, they did have a lovely apartment on the third floor of a building that overlooks a market square. It also stated that unless she replied back within two weeks, that would be her reserved lodgings. 

The only words I could think were "cow pie, oh my". And as I laughed and thought about all the difficulties of having a cow climb three flights of stairs, not to mention the feeding and bathroom needs of Humphrey, I started to hear a poem. So I wrote it down:

Some time ago, a letter was sent

To confirm a room and appropriate rent

But missed within the conversation

A cow is part of the whole equation

Oh to be a fly on the wall

When a third floor room becomes a stall

The noise, the smell, the mess, oh my

With hay and hooves and, of course, cow pies

And then I set to writing my response. I introduced myself and gave some basic details. I told her that my skill with poetry wasn't at her level at all, but that the work sounded grand when spoken aloud. And that I hoped she'd enjoy something of mine.

I signed it, sealed it inside the gorgeous bottle, flew to the Loch, and set the bottle in the water near to where I'd found it. I watched as it orientated itself, began moving through the water (and leaving naught but the slightest wake), then dropped out of sight when it dove down into the depths.

I don't know how long it'll take for the bottle to make it's journey, or if the Lady will find it when it returns. I do hope she has a bit of a laugh when she reads my poem.

I find it interesting that I'm now corresponding with two people, both of whom I'll probably never meet, both of whom talk about being alone, or at least feeling alone. It's like we're castaways. Maybe not literally shipwrecked on a deserted island, but figuratively. 

The lovely thing is, I think, we know our value to the world. And maybe, just maybe, we can feel less alone in our being alone.

Spring, Week 9 - The Elf and the Sphinx

To hear the narration and learn how I put the episode together, check out the video:

*****

 I don't normally leave an entry on a cliffhanger but I did in my last one. And at the time I did wonder what the night would bring! It had already been a day full of learning new things, seeing new places, being chased by an entirely new (to me, anyway) creature... so no wonder if I wondered what else would happen or be revealed! And to be fair, a couple of things were revealed after that last entry (and something that had happened that I didn't squeeze into my journal last time).

MouseEye told me about the nature of flying brooms, especially the old ones. The newer ones are made for anyone to fly - they're quite generic. But the old ones - they were built in a way that, if you didn't resonate with it, it'd present as a perfectly ordinary broom, or at least as a "nothing-particularly-special" flying broom. How awesome it is that this old broom, Vapour Trail, did resonate with me.

Speaking of the broom, and Pop... throughout the night, Pop (the one attached to Vapour Trail) continued to divide and flow and morph. It was like watching festive lights multiply and grow all over a tree! The handle now glows, very gently, with all of its twisted, knotted, mottled glory. The entirety of her bristles now also glow amber and there are definitely far more "light bristles" than there were original ones. The overall result is just... completely magical! I have to share with Pip - maybe this is a way to keep Pop O'Locks safe in whatever dimensions they exist!

However, reality also came knocking and reminded me that, while flying fast and high in the open sun can be fun, it's also a source of skin burn. Sun burn, wind burn... oof, my skin wasn't happy! It took a couple of days for a lovely brown tan to develop. The colour is reminiscent of smooth tree bark!

During the couple of days that I took it easy, waiting for my skin to recover, MouseEye gave me a note from Pip! I grinned when I saw it, then grimaced when my cheeks pushed their burned selves up, then groaned when the grimace creased those same burnt areas!

Note to Self - I need a salve for this!

But back to the note. I read it and... I learned something new.

My dearest bestest friend Sweet

Your world sounds like a scary place. I can't imagine living through all of the adventures you've shared with me. You are so brave. Sweet the Brave!!!

My life is much quieter than yours, thankfully, but your life sounds more like an adventure book! Mine would be more of a "how to avoid..." I'm more of a hide and run than hide and seek person. :)

I'm happy to hear Pop is doing so well. She is extinct in most dimensions (of the here not here). I'm hoping ours survive - thrive and breed!

How did you learn to write poetry? I love reading yours. 

MouseEye has been visiting often - she does love chocolate chunky chip cookies especially fresh from my oven. LOL. I'm sending some for you too. (If none arrive, you know who swiped them) LOL. 

Love Your best bestie

Pip

 Pip called me adventurous! Me! I had to laugh. No, Pip, I'm not adventurous, but they do seem to find me regardless! And she said she likes my poetry! Well... I'll have to write one. I just need to think what about. Or maybe I can write one about how MouseEye seems to have developed a keen interest in chocolate chunky chip cookies! Apparently Pip sent them with this letter but they didn't arrive. Or... they did but I just never got them!

When I read the bit about the cookies, I looked over the letter at where MouseEye was sitting, looking all cute and innocent. But I think he felt my glare because he opened his eyes, gave a weak smile, belched a chocolate-laden burp, patted his tummy, then closed his eyes again. Little scamp! Cookie thief!

Ah - to heck with it - I can't stay mad at him for long. But I did say I'd appreciate at least one cookie next time. He made a sound back that could have been agreement, or a light snore, or perhaps even something less polite. 

I do remember seeing him eating a cookie in Pip's pocket while I dreamed that night after being under the effects of the mushroom spores. I wonder just how much of that experience was real? I'm guessing more of it than I'd guessed.

Anyway, I was finally feeling good again after recovering from my burn, ready to take on the day, whatever it might bring, embrace the fullness of...

"Somebody's coming down the path."

... the... fullness of... *sigh* ... time to breathe, time to relax, time to trust in myself, whatever may happen, embrace the fullness of the spirit of the cottage and grounds and...

*Knock knock* "Hello? Mistress Sweetwater?"

I opened my eyes when I recognized the voice. Cornelius McTwitter, the physician of High Rannoc, here.

"Mistress?"

But there was something wrong with his voice. It was like he was talking around something. I opened the door as he was starting to turn away. "Ah! Good! Mistress. I'm so glad you're in."

"Doctor", I responded politely. -ish. I mean... he wants to kick me out of my cottage and turn the grounds into some sort of "health resort", whatever that is. 

"I... ah... can I come in?" And then he smiled, revealing a broken tooth. I stepped out of the way and indicated a seat.

"How did your tooth end up broken?"

He gave a wan smile. "It's... there's quite the thing happening in town. Have you heard?"

"Are you referring to the supposed relationship between myself and the mayor?"

"Not exactly that, but that is part of it. High Rannoc is abuzz about the rumoured affair, some defending you, some attacking, and many just listening raptly, soaking up the, and pardon me for saying, entertainment value. Bob was targeted by some people for having sold you that magnificent broom you flew out on the other day. Anyway, things were getting pretty animated, people began grabbing and swinging heavy things, and my tooth and I met one of those heavy things on a backswing. I dosed myself with pain killers and am now here, hoping you can set my tooth aright."

I took a look in the book and there was a recipe for Shattered Tooth. And I had everything in house. I did consider, briefly, going out to collect reagents and letting the doctor sit and stew, but instead I decided to make a potion now. And to ask a few questions while I worked.

"The mayor did mention to me that you are interested in taking the cottage and converting it into some sort of health spot." It was a statement on the surface but a question at its heart.

"When I first was here and you treated me, I must admit that my mind couldn't accept that you'd cured me. And so efficiently and effectively. I blame that on my bias against nature-based medicines, which I was taught in my medical school in Imperial City. "Treat the humours, not the body!" was an oft-repeated asservation."

"A what?"

"A... it was something the instructors would say but never provide evidence that it was correct. We all learned it as more an article of faith than of science."

"And then you came here, and..."

"And you showed me just what a fool I was! You brew a potion and almost instantly the patient is cured. I am aware you helped young Robert, our town's adventurer."

I'd had the Rat Spit on a low boil and added it to the Vampire Venom and Slimeshell (both raw) and now let it sit and cool. "So you don't want to take over here?"

"Goodness, no! I say you should provide your kind of care here in your cottage and I'll provide mine safely behind city walls."

"So why did the mayor say he wants me out and you in here?"

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know. But I'm not interested in displacing you."

I handed over the cup. "You'll want to kick this back in one go. Swirl it in your mouth before you swallow."

He accepted gratefully and did as I asked.

"Look, you are part of the medical... team, if I may be so bold to say. You provide your services and I provide mine and that way High Rannoc citizens can be as healthy as they can be." And then he added, "Oooh... it tingles."

As he opened his mouth, I could see the tooth regenerating. It's one thing to get rid of someone's bad breath with a potion, but it's something else entirely to see a tooth growing. Literally growing.

"I have to ask - are you still trying to get an animated skeleton?"

He grimaced at that one. "No - I've learned my lesson. I have an ordinary skeleton and I point to where I need to direct attention. I figured if you don't need one, neither do I!"

"It should be another few minutes. Try to not rub your tongue over the tooth."

"This is extraordinary. Had someone come to me with a broken tooth, I'd've been pulling it out and perhaps replacing it with some sort of bone. Elephant, perhaps."

I decided to ask one last question before the tooth was fully healed. "Any idea who's helping the rumour along? Is the mayor saying drunken things again?"

Cornelius looked serious this time. "That's... quite a thought... I hadn't considered that there'd be someone adding fuel to the flame, so to speak. I mean, you know the nature of rumours and how they morph and change - enlarge, I suppose, you could say - and that's something I think everyone partakes in. But you're asking about someone being malicious about it. I don't think so. The mayor is saying nothing but looking rather smug, his wife is crying that another woman has led him astray, the teachers and staff are tittering at each other. I just don't know."

"What was that about the mayor's wife?"

"Oh, apparently the mayor's been accused of straying from the marital bed in the past."

"Ah." Something didn't feel right, but I wasn't sure what it was. So I decided to let the doctor know how much he owed (Forty silver! Because it was a harder potion) and move on with the day.

The thought of people getting violent, let alone spreading vicious rumours about me, was uncomfortable. I needed some time away again. Exercise in the bog had been one solution, retail therapy leading to a trip to The Cloud Isles had been another. Today, I wanted to walk among the trees in Glimmerwood Grove. We, MouseEye and I, could spend a day doing it, maybe gathering a thing or two, and maybe... hey! We can visit that elf that MouseEye had found the other day! Fun!

"MouseEye, what do you think about a day trip visit to the elf you visited the other day? Fun, right?"

He just froze and had this... look... that said so much and none of it good. I kept looking at him. He gave me a weak smile back. "Must we?"

"Just out of curiosity, what would cause any concern about visiting the elf? It sounded like he was eager for visitors."

MouseEye's face was frozen. Through closed lips I got a mumbled, noncommittal sound.  

Deep breaths, count to ten, tell myself that some day I'll find the funny in this situation, release. "How about this? If we go visit the elf, do you think we'll be welcomed?"

Another noncommittal sound.

"Ok, great. Well, I'm off. It'd be great if you came along to guide me to the elf, rather than have me wander around trying to find him, but if it's going to be, for whatever reason, impractical for you to accompany me, I fully and non-judgementally understand."

"I guess..."

"I mean, if whatever happened between you and the elf is going to be a hinderance to helping guide me there, then it's completely fine that you not come."

"Yes, I..."

"Because in your telling of the tale, and I am heavily referring to your use of both the words for the long appendage that is part of you and a synonym for a story, you were so amazingly clever that you won the elf's favour."

"Well... I did..."

"So off I go and I won't come home until I've met the elf for myself, if for no other reason than to get his side of the story."

MouseEye just closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then said, "I may have... ummm... overstated... ahhh... the elf's appreciation of my verbal trick."

I crossed my arms. "How overstated?"

"Ummm... he may refer to me as a cheat and a thief."

"So he wasn't amused when you..."

"Ahhh... no."

That cemented my determination. "Great! Then we'll head over there and make amends."

"Must...?"

The "I" petered off. I think MouseEye might have swallowed it.

"Yes. We must. If nothing else, I want to be a good neighbour."

*sigh* "Ok."

And that was that. Off we headed. MouseEye sat on my shoulder the entire way.

The trip was quiet, which suited me just fine. I rehearsed apologies, thought of ways to treat this ancient being that might be appropriate (having no idea of any customs that he might expect me to know, I wondered if I could fake it well enough), and tried to keep issues that might be brought up in mind so that I wouldn't be speechless at any point. It was a lot to think in a short time!

As we got closer to the location of the elf's court, we started to hear a voice, complaining, and apparently in some amount of pain. I sped up, wondering what in the world could be wrong.

The brambles that had obscured the entrance to the courtyard had been ploughed over by something. Certainly something big! And not at all concerned by the prickles of the bushes. I stepped through and a lot more made sense. In the middle of the courtyard laid a sphinx. And not just any sphinx - it was the one I'd encountered a few weeks back. He was bleeding from an open wound in his chest. Kneeling next to him was an elf, speaking softly, tending to him. He glanced up as MouseEye and I strode in, then stood up angrily. 

"I have no time to deal with you, thief. But you are not welcome here. And anyone who accompanies you is equally barred. Begone!"

I glanced at MouseEye sternly. He gave me a helpless shrug back.

"Sir, I'm aware my familiar gave offence earlier and I'm here hoping to heal the rift from that, but I see someone in need of aid. May I be of service?"

He looked at me in annoyance, waved us away, and went back to the sphinx.

Feeling bolder than I had any right to feel, I walked up to the two figures, laid my hand on the sphinx's shoulder, and vowed to return quickly with a healing potion. He thanked me, then said something about never going back, then went back to moaning in pain.

I mentally ran through options for a cure and hit on one - Surgeon Sap. We needed to find a particular tree - a Nurse Willow - and given how thirsty willows can be, I headed towards the boundary between the forest and the bog.

It took a couple of trees to find the right kind and one that had sap congealing on its bark. I gathered a blob then returned to the sphinx.

Re-entering the courtyard, I heard the sphinx breathing easier although the chest wound was still oozing. The elf was chanting something. He looked up and I held up the sap. He nodded for me to approach.

If I'd been at home, I would've heated the sap to allow a portion to be placed, like a poultice, over the wound. Instead, I just had the sphinx swallow the sap whole. It's a little bit sweet so I think that helped it go down.

The wound began to heal as we watched, first drying up, then starting to close. The elf stopped his chant (it was something to ease pain) and the sphinx soon became his healthy self once more.

"I believe I owe you all an explanation.", said the now standing sphinx. "I staggered here from my perch in search of help. You see, I'm a sphinx and by tradition we ask a riddle to anyone who approaches. And by tradition, you can pass if you get the riddle right and you are eaten if you get it wrong. Thanks, however, to the generous nature of the witch before me, I learned that other penalties can be applied, such as the teaching of a new riddle. Which I welcomed because, like I said before, I'm a vegetarian. Anyway, an adventurer approached earlier today. I posed, he answered incorrectly, but instead of teaching me a new riddle, he mocked me! As I began to scold him for his attitude, he stabbed me! He ran off and I made my way here. And thanks to you both, I'm right as rain.

"But I'm never going back to that pedestal. Instead of blocking people from travelling forwards, I'm going to... I'm not sure what."

The noble elf looked thoughtful. "You may reside here with me. I believe we can trade stories for riddles. What say you?"

"Does a bear poop in the woods?"

The elf paused. "And perhaps we can study various forms of riddles and thereby increase your repertoire." He then looked at me. "You, I believe, are Mistress Sweetwater. Your actions were honourable. You are welcome to return here whenever you wish. As for your familiar... I'll consider his debt to me settled once he has told me two stories, not "tales", over the next week."

MouseEye started. "I owed you one!"

The elf answered. "Interest and penalties."

MouseEye shrugged. "Ok. As for the first tale..."

"Let's do this properly. We should sit back, enjoy refreshments, and allow this story to be savoured properly."

I'll say this about what followed - it was an event! MouseEye took centre stage and not only told his stories but acted them out. He did the voices, he brought settings to life, he... let's just say he brought the house down. Twice. And as for the "refreshments" the elf provided... I figured we'd have something refreshing to drink or something like that, but what was served was beyond anything I'd ever had before. Maybe it's because I'd never had Elvish food and this bit of refreshment in the Elvish world was simply that, but I found it simply amazing.

Anyway, whatever bad blood that had existed before was now well and done. Elf and mouse complimented each other, I breathed a sigh of relief, the sphinx trundled off to his new lodgings, and I took that as a cue to excuse myself. All in all, a lovely day.

And it remained lovely despite the fact that somewhere in all this I decided Fen needed a friend. A Princess Toad, to be exact. Why I thought it was a good idea... I don't know! But I did and so off MouseEye and I went in search of one.

We did find Princess Toads. Eventually. There weren't many around and those we did find... well, you can't simply grab them! You have to ask if they'd like to leave their current situation and come join me in mine. To which they all replied, "No, thank you."

You can't argue with that!

We went home, tired but happy. It'd been a busy day. MouseEye settled under the spirit house and I... I was still mentally awake. So I decided to write a response to Pip.

I addressed it To Pip, Here Yet Not Here and sent it From Sweet, Here Yet Not Here

Dear Pip,

Thank you for your kind gift of your chocolate chunk cookies. I'd like to say they were delicious, that they paired nicely with the tea I was drinking. Perhaps MouseEye, when he next sees you, can tell you that they were. Since he's the only one who knows! (The little mischief maker didn't even leave a crumb for me!)

Your cookies may be delightful

And I may be more insightful

Were it not for a mouse

Who lives in my house

Who can apparently eat a plateful!

I think it's funny that you think I'm so adventurous! Not true! But they do have a way of finding me. So rather than me being adventurous, I'd say adventures are Sweet-er-ous!

Pop, by the way, has divided into two! And one of her is now part of the ancient broom I just bought! It's like a holiday-lit broom now!

Your best bestie, 

Sweet 

I figured I'd ask my little half-truth telling, cookie-addicted familiar to deliver it in the morning. But no sooner had I sealed up the letter, I heard a SNAP! That... I'd heard that sound before, during my dream. And the one who'd SNAPped me then had been a small owl...

"Name's Birdie. We needed to talk so here I am. Stay out of my world and I'll stay out of yours. Now give me that note.

"Good talk."

SNAP

And she was gone. What the...? That was... wow. Poor Pip!

I took a second (more like many minutes) to sit and breathe and find my centre again. Then for good measure I went and gave MouseEye a quick peck on the head, and then decided it was time to go to bed.

Also Spring, Week 7 - MouseEye's Adventure

To listen to the narration and hear how I put the episode together, click the video link below:

*****

 I have to admit, I'm not quite sure how to talk about what I just found out. I'm not quite sure who I can tell! I want to tell someone, but it's... have you ever had something that you wanted to say and that it makes perfect sense when you tell someone face-to-face but it just loses its punch when it's written down? Well, I have. I want to tell someone but there's no one here to tell (because I have, apparently, a very discriminating social presence. Meaning I'm pretty much left alone/avoided unless, of course, there's a potion involved).

Which is why I'm sitting here, at my small desk in the cottage, chewing on the end of my pencil, thinking about what to write in a letter to Pip. Of all the people I know, I think she's the only one who'll appreciate the story. But that brings me back to wanting to tell the story face-to-face, maybe in a bit of a gossip session. Not that anyone gossips anymore! Oh no. It's all Speaking Truth and Airing Things Out and Spilling Tea. But it's not gossip!

Ok - I think what I'll do is relate the story on some paper here and if I feel like it comes across ok there, I'll send it to Pip so she can be just as amazed as I am.

Now to compose my letter.

Dear Pip,

Hi! How are you? How's everything in your neck of the Here Yet Not Here?

You won't believe what happened! (Oh, sorry - I'm supposed to wait for you to answer the questions and I'm supposed to listen and nod and pretend I'm not about to burst to tell you what I want to tell you. So pretend I did!) But I think in order to really appreciate the story, you need a clearer picture of life here than what I've provided before.

I live in a small cottage with Pop (she's lightfull, by the way. And I do mean "light-full". She's like my own private floating light source, like a very small sun, but with an automatic dimmer. And no heat aside from her gentle warmth when she lands on me. Thank you for sending Pop O' Lock here - we're all happy) and MouseEye.

MouseEye... how to describe him? He's a mouse, for one. He's my familiar. And while he can often cop an attitude when asked to do something, he can also be helpful - and oftentimes in unexpected ways. For instance, so far I know he can speak to humans, bees, toads, and I'm pretty sure to Pop as well. 

One thing that he has a habit of doing is disappearing. Often at very inconvenient times, like when I'm in danger of being eaten by a sphinx. (Thankfully it was vegetarian, so the danger wasn't as grave as it could've been, but you get the idea). When he shows up after disappearing, I'll ask where he's been. And he'll usually say "Must I?". (I know I asked to call him MouseEye but I had no idea it'd be so close to what has become his trademark remark!)

Today he reappeared in his usual space in and amongst my spirit house (which is also where mail from you tends to arrive. Weird, yeah?). Despite the fact that I've stopped asking about his solo travels far and wide to who knows where, I decided to show an interest on where he'd been this time. And he told me!

That alone made my jaw drop. And maybe it's that fact alone that makes the story so amazing - the he actually shared what happened!

At least I hope it's a true account. It'd be a shame if he just made it all up. I mean... would he make up a story? No - I don't think so. If he didn't want to share, he wouldn't. He'd change the subject or ignore me or say "Must I?". I don't think he's interested in telling tall tales - it's too much work. So I'm going to believe this is true and if it's not... well, I'll just deal with it then.

Oh, look at me - I just looked and realized I've been babbling on without actually saying anything of note yet. It's like I think paper just grows on trees! (And yes, I know, it kinda sorta does!)

Ok. Enough jabbering! To what happened.

I'm going to assume you have a forest in your Here Yet Not Here (I think I'll just write that as HYNH for now. I hope you don't mind!). In my version it's called Glimmerwood Grove. It's a lovely forest, although I must admit I have an affinity for forests. My father's a woodcutter. He lives days away but it's a forest not unlike the one here. Here meaning near my cottage, not here like my side of HYNH. 

Anyway - I went camping in there once. And found a sleeping giant. With the most fungus-covered feet I've ever seen! It was... blech! I mean, I know we witches have to deal with the yucky and nasty parts of life, along with the life-fulfilling and satisfying ones, but still!

Ok - I was supposed to start telling you the story and I got distracted again. This time for sure!

Like I said, MouseEye got back from another one of his solo adventures. It turns out he was exploring Glimmerwood Grove. While he was in there, he found a kind of open-air throne room. He said he just happened upon it - that one second he was stepping, or I suppose padding, through some heavy brambles and ended up stepping into this space. It was all light blue, apparently - sort of like if the sky had been molded into bricks. But it's also apparently old enough to be covered in hanging vines and moss. He said the weird thing was that it all looked so well tended.

Sitting at the other end of the... I suppose it could be called a chamber, although I think chambers are supposed to have some sort of ceiling or roof over them. Anyway, at the opposite end was a throne. And apparently there was no doubting it was a throne because it was big, golden, and elaborate with carvings and ornate decorations. And sitting on the throne was an elf. Now... have I mentioned that MouseEye prides himself on watching and remembering things? This time, however, the self-described watcher was watched by this elf as he looked around and took it all in. And, I guess, the elf was quite amused by MouseEye's wondrous reactions to it all. 

"Welcome to my court.", the elf said in greeting.

"Hello.", MouseEye replied. And continued looking around.

"I am High Lord Aeronil. And you are?"

"MouseEye. You can call me MouseEye."

"And what brings you, MouseEye, to my court and my presence?"

"Hmm...? Oh... nothing. I just stepped through some foliage and ended up here."

"Ah.", was all the elf said.

"Were you hoping for someone in particular?"

The elf's smile dimmed a bit. "I'd hoped that... ah... well, never mind."

MouseEye insists that he turned his magnificent, soulful eyes towards the elf and that that was the reason he became more forthcoming.

"You see... I'd hoped someone would come and replace me here. And you seemed a likely candidate."

"But I thought you said this is your court."

"Ah... technically, it is. Presently. When my replacement takes over, it'll be their court."

"And you thought I was your replacement?"

The elf shrugged. "Stranger things have happened. You could've been a carefully disguised elf."

"How long have you been waiting?"

The elf sat up straighter. "Well... I don't know exactly. Mind you, when you're a member of a long-lived race, such as those of us from Elvendom, long stretches of time can pass by seemingly in an instant."

MouseEye nodded. Then he said, "So how long was that?"

"A long time."

"And you're the only one here?"

"Ah... yes. Yes, I am. The rearguard, I suppose. Of our migration to a new land."

"And so you're waiting on a replacement from the new land where your people are now?"

"That. Or for help in moving the throne. It's quite heavy."

MouseEye nodded in sympathy. "Ok. Well, I should go."

The elf stopped him. "Wait! Would you tarry longer? I'll trade you a tale for a tale."

That stopped MouseEye. "Would you say that your tale is a part of a much larger tale? The Tale of History, I think you could say?"

The elf pondered it. "Yes... I see your point. So - a portion of a tale for a portion of a tale."

"And would you also say that any portion of a tale, in terms of the Tale of History, would be quite a small portion of that tale?"

The elf looked confused, but said, "I don't know where you're going with this, but yes. My tale is but a very small piece of the great Tale of History."

So MouseEye said, "Agreed. You give me a small piece of a tale and I'll do the same and give you a small piece of a tale in return."

Now, I hope you recognize that I've filled in the gaps a bit here and there because, as I mentioned earlier, MouseEye isn't always great with telling me things and can omit some details. So this conversation and agreement may have a bit made up, but in the end MouseEye and the elf agreed to trade bits of a large tale. 

The elf told MouseEye about the history of Count von Rannoc, the necromatic vampire who lives in a dungeon close to the cottage. It's called Hero's Hollow. And I can attest to just how hollow it is! I fell into a jail cell while on my way to the Hollow for the first time! And that was in my first week of being the new witch here! Oh - yeah - I've now been here about two months, so I'm relatively new still, but I've been learning so much and visiting new places and treating all sorts of conditions! It's been fun learning and doing and all that!

And... oh, right! The Count! So it turns out a few hundred years ago, there was this pig farmer. He'd raise pigs, take them to market, or sometimes stay home - you know, all that. Nothing extraordinary. Some days he'd have plenty to eat and could even afford roast beef while other days were lean and there was no food at all. But this one day, when he went to the market, the slaughterhouse took his pigs but refused to pay him! He threatened to go to the police, which is when the mage, who'd been hired by the slaughterhouse for just this sort of thing, said he'd make sure that no one would ever trust him again and that he'd forever after be a creature of the night. He ran all the way home (making some sort of strange "wee wee" noise) but the transformation took hold - he was a vampire from that day forth.

He knew he could never live as a pig farmer again. Or, really, as a farmer at all. So he just ran. And wandered. Eventually he found the dungeon and took up residence there. He became a necromancer to try to find a way to reverse the vampirism. 

This, by the way, is the same vampire who tried to force the spirit of the land under my cottage to bend to his will. For his efforts, the land quite ably defended itself and defeated him, so he only ended up with bruises. 

Anyway, after the elf told his tale, MouseEye said, "That was quite a piece of tale you gave me. I hope you'll find the piece of tale I give you is satisfactory." And then he plucked a few hairs from his tail. "Here's a small piece of tail in return."

Now... I've wondered a time or two during my own adventures if perhaps I was pushing my luck in dealing with those I encounter. But this! This was... oh my! I can't even bring myself to imagine being that bold. And yet there he was, in all his mouse-y glory, holding a bit of fur out in trade for the story.

The elf, for his part, took the proffered hair. "You have played a trick on me. Were I not so bored, I might've taken offence. But this was the only entertainment I've had in ages."

I don't know if MouseEye went anywhere else after that, but as I said, he eventually came home and told me the tale and the tale of the tail.

Whew!

I see I'm getting close to the end of my paper, so I'll close this for now and hope to hear from you soon.

Your Bestie,

Sweet

After a moment's consideration, I folded up the packet of paper, addressed it to Pip, stretched my cramped writing hand, and wondered what she'd thing about this all.

And I'd have a thing or three to ponder over the next few days!

Also Spring, Week 6 - Helping vs Rescuing

To hear the narration and learn how I put this episode together, watch the video!

*****

 Early morning. The time when the transition from night to day hasn't started just yet. There's a stillness as night gets ready to recede, day is busy making its coffee, stretching, getting ready, but it hasn't left the house yet so as to be known to the sleeping world. It's the hushed breath before activity begins.

At least in most houses. Not this one. Not this morning at least. In this one... this witch wishes she were allowed to sleep longer, to enjoy the warmth of bed covers until dawn. I mean... dawn!... it's not too much to ask for, is it?

Apparently the answer is "Yes. Yes it is."

I know why I'm up. I'm not happy with myself this morning and I know I should do something about it. I know this because that is the theme of so many thoughts pounding around in my skull. At least if I get up and start to do something, I can get my mind off of my guilt. Perhaps even convince it to go away. Which I know full well it won't, but a witch can at least try! And besides it's too early to do anything about it anyway! So... I'll do something else and maybe, just maybe, I'll work it all out. It didn't help that a presumed sleeping MouseEye just said, "Mmm hmm" right after my last thought on the subject. 

As I got up and stretched, I saw the gentle glow from behind the note on the mantlepiece. That, I think, is worthy of exploration. It'll take my mind off of other things. And besides, if it's from Pip I don't want to leave her waiting on a reply. 

My usual morning routine can wait. I really want to see what the note says and see what's glowing.

Note to self - when trying to read a note, get the fire going first. It's amazing how much light there isn't in the early morning. 

Next note to self - in the dark, writing may not be visible, but it gives a much better perspective on anything that happens to be gently glowing.

I set the note aside and saw what lay behind it. It's... a small orb, tiny really, sitting on the mantlepiece. But not just sitting. More like gently pulsating. Along with the colour changing intensity, the colour itself seemed to shift - whites, blues, turquoises, and more. And the sphere itself gently... bounced? The harder I looked at it, the more movement I saw. It was mesmerizing. 

It was around that point that my lack of even visiting the privy started to catch up with me. I pulled myself away and got my daily routine done.

Feeling much more comfortable and with the fire stoked, I was able to read the note. It was indeed from Pip! Yay! And it identified my new little glowing friend as a Pop O' Lock. That it emits bursts of coloured magic, needs feeding twice daily, and won't tolerate sun nor bugs.

Ummm... feed twice daily? And I've had it for how long? It looks alive, at least. And with all the movement I assume it's happy? And the note says something about trying to save this Pop O' Lock? Save it from what? Simply dying? Or something more predatory? Or sinister?

I'm going to have to write back and get some clearer instructions on the little thing. In the meantime, what do I do with it? I hoped MouseEye could shed a light on the situation.

"MouseEye?"

A little suspiciously, the sound of snoring began to come from his spot in the spirit house.

"MouseEye", I said, a little louder. 

"Must I?", came the response, and then the suspicious snoring continued. 

"Is that where we are now? Preemptive 'Must I?'-ing?"

"Mmm hmm"

Well, for now anyway, everything seems ok.

What happens if I touch it?

It's warm. Not hot. Pleasant. There's a vibration. Subtle. The colour changed slightly - perhaps a bit pastelly. And when I went to lift my finger off, it stuck to it. Interesting! 

I brought it closer to my face. "Hello there. I'm Sweet. I hope you're happy here in my cottage." I didn't expect what happened next - it floated off my finger and landed on the spirit house. Ok - I guess it can take care of itself better than I'd originally assumed. 

And that's where I was as the sun rose - happy, warm, enjoying a steaming tea, secure in my ability to help people... which brought back an uncomfortable thought. Why had I felt the need to add sweet to the potion I gave to Roger Rogerson? Twelve silver worth of sweet. The sweet alone was more than Roger would've made from his guarding of the doctor.

How could someone make a living if they had to pay out so much in a single treatment? Especially if a certain witch were to over-make a potion?

*Sigh* The same thoughts that had greeted me in the dark were now badgering me in the light. There was no helping it - I had to make things right. And that meant a trip to High Rannoc.

I did my best to rehearse what I'd say to Roger and what he might say in response. How angry he might be because of how much I charged him. How disappointed he could be in me for not being more thoughtful in my care, not being more helpful in my customer service, not being as useful a resource to the community as I could be. I must admit the discussions in my imagination turned into arguments, recriminations, accusations, rejections.

I felt miserable. I wanted to turn around, go back to the cottage, and put out a Do Not Disturb sign just so's I could hide and never see anyone again. But my legs got me to the High Rannoc gate. Open, as always. "Why are there walls if the gate is always open?", I wondered. But that attempt at distraction was swept aside with visions of poor Roger eating a crust of bread and being thankful to the person who'd mindlessly cast it aside.

Through the gates I went.

The Copper Fox Tavern seemed the best place to start looking for Roger. Fussy was up and serving a family breakfast. I caught his attention as I walked in. "Mistress Sweetwater. What can I get you?"

I swallowed, gathered my courage, and asked for Roger's address.

"He's in the back. He's just..."

"Thank you." I strode past him.

"But... Mistress?... he's..."

I ignored whatever he was trying to say. I was finally ready to do this and if I stopped now, I might never be able to summon up the courage again.

I went through the inn and out the back, following the sound of singing. Roger's singing. Meanwhile I faintly heard scrambling behind me.

I stepped out. Roger had a small bowl raised over his head. A very wet and entirely unclothed Roger dropped the small bowl onto his head. Which is when Fussy caught up. "Begging your pardon, but he's bathing, Miss." The tableaux froze.

Roger then said, "Have you eaten, Miss? Fussy, would you mind laying a table for two?"

I felt Fussy's arm wrap around my shoulders, steering me back to the Common Room. "He'll just be a minute, I'm sure. What can I get you?"

It was difficult to think, what with the new flood of mortification I was feeling. I just looked at him.

"How about I get you the House Special. Everyone likes it."

"Ok. Thank you.", was all I could manage.

A few minutes later, a still wet but very much clothed Roger joined me. He was smiling. 

We both tried talking at the same time, stopped, tried again at the same time, stopped. Our food arrived, which served as a pleasant distraction. I tried talking again, but Roger put his hand up to stop me. "I just want to say that, when you came storming out and saw me washing - your face! Priceless! I would've burst out laughing, but it's clear there's something on your mind. So - let me now shut up and let you talk."

He sat back and gave me the floor.

I sat up, bent forward, and began. "Roger - I want you to know that I've been thinking about the potion I made you, and its cost. I feel like I didn't take into consideration your... ahhh... living standards... and I..."

He held up a hand again. "I've faced fearsome beasts in my time, so just say what you need to say."

I stopped. "Fearsome beasts?"

"You doubt me?"

"A little. Yes."

His smile grew, carrying levels of humour and abashedness. "Ok. So maybe not as fearsome as I might try to imply. But yes - I've been to places most folks haven't. So a few words don't scare me." He leaned back again. Once again I had the floor.

"Look - you make ten silver on a guarding job. I charged you forty-two for a potion. How can you afford to live if I do that? I want to at least refund you the silver I charged for all the sweet I added." And I started digging in my pocket.

Roger stopped me. And smiled. "I appreciate that you care about this. I really do. You cared for me when I came to you, made a potion that, let's face it, I wanted to keep drinking long after it was all gone, and allowed me to stay at your cottage. Fussy tells me all the time that I should charge what I think is fair to my customers. Most times there's no trouble at all. This last time there was. So thank you for the offer, but I can't accept anything back that I paid to you."

This I couldn't accept. So I tried a different argument. "Why didn't the doctor help you? Why didn't he...?"

The hand had gone up again. "But he did. It's just that I opted to not take his pills. And I'm glad I didn't. Your potion worked a treat and I'm ready to guide and guard again."

"But... how...?"

"Look - sometimes what's supposed to be a three-hour tour becomes something more serious. I can honestly say, and I am being honest here, there have been times that it's only been my courage that's kept my clients from being lost, or worse. And yes, in the great ocean of adventure, I can feel like a little minnow, but I never feel alone. I suppose shipwrecked would work better for this analogy. So whether I'm guiding a millionaire and his wife or a professor or whomever, I know it'll all be ok. And that you have proven yourself to be able to help me so handedly, that helps reinforce that idea. So! Hand out of your pocket, please, and let's enjoy Fussy's House Special." And then he whispered, "Make sure to complement him on the food. He's fussy about how people perceive it." He smiled again, a little conspiratorial one. I returned it.

The father of the family that had finished breakfast approached the table. "Roger, we're on for tomorrow, yes?"

Roger nodded. "Hank, before you go, have you met the new witch, Mistress Sweetwater? Worked a wonder on me the other day."

We all exchanged pleasantries and then the father left. I looked over at Roger, who just shrugged. "Don't mention it. It's what I do."

I felt more at ease in this minute than I'd felt since treating Roger. "I have to admit, Roger, I didn't see you as being... I don't know... I mean, you're energetic and enthusiastic, clearly able to take care of yourself from physical threats, but I didn't think of you as... business-savvy." 

"So you thought I wasn't, what? Smart enough? To take care of myself?"

"Ummm... I... when you put it that way..."

He crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Ok. Fair thought. I wasn't the best student, but I'm doing well enough. Between Fussy helping me out and my adventuring, it's all good. So - you all good?" He reached across the table for my hands. I let him take them. He looked in my eyes. "All good?"

I felt so much better. I was lost in my relief. I heard myself say "Yes". 

"Good." He released my hands, took a minute, then made to get up. "I've got to get busy, so I hope you'll excuse me. But do make sure to give the food two thumbs up." And with that, he left.

Although I was tempted to linger, I decided to start making my way back home. The thoughts I'd had of checking in on my former patients to make sure they were doing well evaporated. The thought of going to the Herbology School to... I don't know what... also disappeared. 

I don't need to check in on Francie. Or the doctor. Or Madame Hightower. I could care from my cottage, but I don't need anyone to prove to me that they're ok. I don't need to try to control the lives of anyone (except, of course, myself). I don't need to rescue anyone.

What a relief! What a weight off my shoulders! I felt good! Who knew that witching could be such a complicated affair?

As I walked back to the cottage, I wondered if the old witch had faced these same problems. Probably, I found myself answering myself. I wondered how she'd faired; how she'd managed all the expectations; the requests; the demands, the reasonable and the unreasonable... all the different ways life could try, could pull, push, cajole... no wonder a witch's cottage sits a comfortable distance outside of town and those walls, those pitiful walls trying to keep everything out. Or maybe just the harmful, the dangerous, the unwanted out. Ugh. Give me free access to wild lands any day.

As I approached the cottage grounds, a dark shape flew low over my head, followed by an unspeakable greasy reek. I looked up as a harpy landed on a low hanging branch. 

How to describe a harpy? To simply say they are a combination of a woman (head, chest) and a vulture (all the rest) is like saying a giant explosion is a combination of a bit of fire and enthusiasm. Harpys are nasty. They stink, have mouths that would make sailors cringe... let's face it - if there's a single redeeming quality, I'm not aware of it. How they'd been appointed as the mail delivery service I'll never know.

"Hello, princess!" it shrieked. Did I mention they don't talk, exactly? They only shriek. "You been expecting a package? Got your hopes up to actually receive whatever this is?" It held up a bit of card with a small bag attached.

The thing to remember when dealing with a mail delivery (I think I'd experienced only one or two at my childhood home) is to not give the harpy any satisfaction in wanting the package. They usually get bored and drop it, sometimes in a convenient place, then leave. So I didn't give the harpy any attention, simply said, "no", then walked away.

The harpy shrieked in frustration, then flew ahead of me again. "Don't you want this wood-care oil? Good for brooms and wands?"

I forgot to mention that they'll typically read your mail.

"No, thank you." They also don't like manners.

It shrieked again. "Fie! On your head, then!" She dropped it then took off. She did try to poop on me as she flew away but I was able to step out of the way. One last shriek of frustration as it flew off and that was that.

As I picked up the bit of mail, I was grateful the harpy had been in a relatively good mood. One last thought dashed through my head - why would a type of creature - one that only has human female parts - agree to deliver "mail"? You'd think something with only human male parts, like a satyr, would be more appropriate. Then again, satyrs aren't big on schedules and responsibility - they just want to party all day every day.

The card was addressed to "The Witch of High Rannoc, or Current Resident". On the back was a sales pitch by a newly established company looking to sell a better brand of wood soap - to help keep a witch's wooden tools clean and weather-protected. The bag held a small sample, formed into an easy-to-transport bar.

Well - when I have a broom or a wand, this might become useful. For right now, however, it's simply something to store away.

I opened the door to my cottage. The usual comfortable dark had been replaced with the glow coming from Pop O' Lock floating happily in the middle of the cottage. 

That... hmmm... it's nice. I'm so used to only having light when things are open or the fire's going or, for special times, a candle's light. This is... it's like a bit of fantastical living. What a luxury!

However, it wasn't up to me if this lovely glowing orb stays or goes. I had to ask the house. I sat and thought, breathed and asked. And got back acceptance. Even happiness that I was going to be pleased.

I opened my eyes and found Pop O' Lock floating near my hand, which was folded in my lap. I opened it and allowed Pop to land on my palm. There was that sensation of warmth, of comfort. I could feel it gently melding with me, accepting my energy and offering me its own.

I thought back to Pip's note and how she'd sent it here to save it. Maybe in Pip's land, something would eat this? Whatever the situation there, I was going to take care of this one here. But I did need to send Pip a note. I gently let Pop (it felt ok to call her that. And she was definitely a she, but why I decided that I don't know) float off and I got my writing things together and started to compose. I'd figured at some point that if I was going to have a penpal in the Here Yet Not Here, I'd better put together a small kit for writing).

The letter I wrote is all about Pop. How she seems to be getting along and is safe and happy here. And I felt the desire to write a bit of a poem about her as well:

What shall I say of who's come my way

the lovely one now known as Pop?

Her gentle glow, a moon you know

is lighting up the dark a lot

She floats so free and alights on me

never dims and never stops

She's found a home where she can roam

and the spirit house is also her cot.

And since Pip has sent me some things, I thought I'd send her the wood soap. If I can simply order it and have it delivered... nope... check that... ask Bob to have it brought in, then maybe where she is they don't have it. At least not yet.

So maybe I'm doing things differently than the old witch. Maybe she didn't have a Pip, or a Pop, or a Fen. And definitely not a MouseEye! But I have love and acceptance. What more does anyone need?

Also Spring, Week 4 - A Poem For Pip

To hear the narration (and learn how I put the episode together, check out this link:

*****

 Two days. If anyone ever asks if things can get messy working as a witch, not only is the answer "yes" but I know how messy. The answer is two days worth of scrubbing, soaking, mopping, scraping, and airing. 

Vomit people, while, I'm sure, are quite lovely, they are tremendously messy. And stinky. 

As predicted, the cleaning worked my anger out over the doctor's atrocious attitude to my work and the cures, both of them, I effected. 

Ok - maybe not completely over it, but at least I can think of him as a difficult patient and not as someone to be shunned. No doubt, at some point, a patient of mine will reject my efforts or not have a cure within their own timeframe and go to the doctor instead. I just hope they're prepared to have their urine examined. 

I have to admit that that still makes me chuckle. Like that's going to tell you anything! And the bleeding thing! Keep more of your bits on the inside, I say, rather than feed leeches. Oh well - each to their own.

Anyway, it feels good to finally have things clean and smelling good again. I realize it's part of the job, dealing with magical maladies, but still! Maybe I could ask for a cleanup fee.

Or not. After all, I still have a mess I'll need to handle at some point in the future - that meeting I promised that weird, three-armed Igor and his "marthter", the vampiric necromancer. Named "Count". Although that's probably just his title, just like mine's "witch". I wonder what his real name is. Probably best not to ask - he'd want me to reveal mine and that's just not going to happen.

I didn't give a specific date for it. Maybe that would delay it indefinitely? Watch - some day, an hour or two after sundown, they'll show up on the grounds. 

Best not to think that again and tempt fate! However, if it happens, I'll just deal with it. Of course, it's easier being brave here where the cottage and grounds are either living things or connected to something far more powerful than I can comprehend. 

Trusting in that, I go to bed, exhausted from my cleaning efforts, wiped from working through my emotions, but enjoying the smell of clean...

*****

... and wake to the morning smells of Spring on the breeze, the sun just rising, the familiar sounds outside, the enfolding warmth of a slept-in bed whose tendrils gently try to lull me back to sleep. In a word, normal.

It's tempting to close my eyes again and give myself a sleep-in day, but a thought struck me regarding my reagents and I'm looking forward to put it into practice. And that, while I might be able to do while lying in bed, head on pillow, warm blanket wrapped around me against the morning chill... zzzzz... 

*****

... with the sun shining down, the day well underway... I guess I needed that extra doze!

But enough sleeping, sleepy-head! Time to get doing!

And so I did. And with my morning routine out of the way, it's time to... what's that on the mantlepiece? A basket? How did a basket get there?

Did Dr. Know-It-All sneak in here and drop it off as an apology for being insufferable? I mean... it'd be nice if that were the case and he was truly sorry and all, but how would he have gotten it in here without my knowing?

What a mystery! I suppose I should look for a note.

Oh! It's from Pip! This is a pleasant surprise! And there's something called Coffee Weed, a bit of honey, a bit of tea (her favourite), some Skeleton Dust, some Vampire Venom, and three chocolate chunk cookies!

Strange! I just dealt with an ailment using those last two!

Is it possible she's more here and less not here?

She likes asking questions (this time it's about ducks) so maybe I should ask something and see if she's experiencing the same things I am.

Ok - let's not get ahead of ourselves. Let's first brew up her tea (and add the honey - sounds yummy!), and take things one step at a time.

Let's see... maybe a bit of a To Do List.

In no particular order:

1. Enjoy tea
2. Figure out how to divide up the cookies. The look delicious, so I bet others will enjoy them as much as I will
3. Catalogue my reagents, including this new one
4. Thank Pip properly

#1 is easy. Tick!

#2 - I'd like some cookie. They look so good! But I bet MouseEye would like some. And a piece should go into the spirit house. Ooh! As should a spot of this wonderful tea! So one for me, one for mouse-y, and then the house makes three. Tick!

#3 - I'm going to organize my reagents by what they cure, with a division in those lists for location. For instance, for Mood reagents, I currently have two. So I'll list them on the Mood page like this:

Mood

Wigfish - 3 stars - Meltwater Loch

Songberries - 1 star - Glimmerwood Grove

I figure the most important attributes of any reagent is what are its efficacies. So seeing that is a better way to organize a reagent list than most any other way. (Of course, this being totally untried, it may be a bunch of work that ends up being a waste, but I figure I'll try it, have a bit of fun as I do it - maybe enlist MouseEye's help - and see how it works out. Nothing ventured, nothing gained).

But before I do that, I need to focus properly on my note back to Pip. And to do that, I need to sip on some more tea, take a bite of this cookie (Oh my, it's so good!), and compose something appropriate.

I think I'll compose a bit of a poem. It's something I've been thinking about doing, so maybe I'll share my first one with her. And include a bit of Wild Rose since it's growing so nicely in its plot. Ok... to compose... some ideas... like being here but yet here and seeing the sky and wondering if we see the same thing. Hmmm...

The cloud that I see

White, fluffy, free

I wonder, can it be

that you see it too

Or is it only me?

It carries smiles

from me to you

across miles and miles

Hmmm... not bad!

And now, I think, I'm going to do not much. This witch needs her rest!