Here’s a pleasantly unusual backyard find that I almost walked on yesterday. It now resides between two pages in a copy of Grimm’s Fairy Tales that contains a rather poetic story about a few moon-thieves.
This Sunday morning and much on a whim, we decided to rail against unlandscaped fate and make that fire pit we had been mentioning in passing for several months.
After a quick trip to Home Depot for stone, we unloaded the stones onto the ground and wandered in hopeful aimlessness about and around the patio for quite a few many minutes. When the stones didn’t magically array themselves instantly into the intended configuration, we looked at each other and shrugged with deep sighs disappointed to learn that neither of us possessed superpowers either mental or stop-motion (though in hindsight the power of the 80s montage rings clearly in our memories). Reduced to shuffling stones about and bickering about exact dimensions, we plotted out the area of lawn at the corner of the patio that would serve as the most worthy sacrifice.
For days Dennis walked ceasing only when he was in danger of falling asleep in mid-stride. Then he would lie down and sleep where he stood. When he woke he would find water, find food and then walk further. It took those few days before any inkling of his current state entered the hollow that his mind had become. Leaned over a puddle on the side of the war-deserted road he saw his reflection and it struck him. When he saw his eyes reflecting the image of his father he again remembered himself. Palm half full with muddy water continued its route to his lips and the water was drunk. Beyond a search for clothing that would entail there was only one resolve that filled him and words began to form behind those familial mirrors. He knew he would have to tell him, all of them. Not that the phrase meant what is should have. He could count them on one hand and that fact slowed his progress. He imagined their faces as any series of words that could describe the news crossed his mind. None of them were neither adequate nor painless either for them or himself. It didn’t seem to matter how many variations ran through his mind while the back of it guided a search for replacement clothes, he continued down the road far enough in these outskirts to find the next cottage, farm, town or traveler.
Depending on severity, allergies can range from annoying to deadly. Millions of Americans are familiar with the sneezing, itching and coughing that come along with spring allergies to toxins, while others suffer hives or even airway blockage if they eat the wrong food.
And we know that food allergies are on the rise, partly because of awareness but experts say something else may be going on.
Five days earlier and regrouped from the initial loss they had been planning the exact re-engagement Mother Lorin would later predict. Huddled around a campfire beside the shelter where older children had hid far enough from that disaster, they had no idea that already another was already drifting their way.
Different than their elders remaining or gone, the only hardship they knew that of battle and training. They possessed a confidence singular to those born and raised as elite soldiers, these men, women, and youths of the king’s no longer such a secret weapon. These knighted werewolves, equal parts regiment and pack.
As Mother Lorin left the grandchildren safe and asleep in their room, Erix was there and he asked “so they’re alright?” grey bearded chin nodding toward the door now closed. Turning to walk with her down the corridor whose chill came directly from dark stone bare between tapestry and drape. His pace slowed by more than one old injury and the arthritic back which had finally kept him from this latest battle.
Lorin patted the shoulder of her fellow oldster keeping her slightly spryer stride in check to match his pace. She smiled tersely knowing the direction the discussion would take and already not savoring the thought “I think we’re all more worried than they are” she assured him “I believe they may not even have noticed.”