...and the Bees ∼ The Recurring Dream (12/11/15) Q (6 of 7)
Table of Contents
Back
...and the Bees ∼ The Recurring Dream
Character may be manifested in the great moments,
but it is made in the small ones.
∼ Phillips Brooks
"Where'd you plan to spend the night?"
"Do you have a plat map?"
Rustling around, she produced last year's edition. "Oh, now what did I do with the new one?"
"Is he in this one?"
"Yes. He lives on a century farm."
Quizzically raised eyebrows greeted her remark.
"When one family has owned a place continuously for 100 years, the owners can get the designation century farm.
Holding out the book, he said, "Show me."
As she discussed the distance and landmarks between the two farms, the dryer dinged. "Your clothes are done."
Unbidden, he headed into the utility room and removed his possessions, returning to the bathroom.
Definite star quality. I've got to get him out of here.
Returning, he said, "If I leave now, I can make it to work by 6," giving her a wry smile.
Her mouth formed an O of dismay. "I was just so tickled to be able to find someone who wanted to hire you, I didn't think about how long it would take you to get there using shank's mare."
Turning his body the directions he would go the same way a honey bee dances directions to its hive mates, he repeated from memory the route she'd showed him in the plat book.
It looks like a tribal dance, Despina thought as she watched him wide-eyed.
"Right?"
"Uh, I wasn't following the route; I was just admiring the scenery."
Impulsively plucking her body from the chair, he began the dance again, holding her at arm's length before him, facing the same way he was, turning her as he recited the land marks.
Her heart thudded so loudly she couldn't concentrate on his words.
"Right?"
Flustered, she pulled away. "I guess I wouldn't make a very good worker bee. I'd never find the flowers."
Ducking past him, she headed down the hall to the spare bedroom. "I'll take you, I guess. Let me clear off the spare bed."
"No."
She stopped, turning slowly to face him. She raised one eyebrow in question.
"Who lives in the old house down by the barn?"
"Nobody. It doesn't even have water or heat."
"Who owns it?"
"I do."
Picking up his pack, he slid it on, opening the door. "May I?"
Mother, May I? Frowning, she silently nodded her head. His feet would have hung out over the edge of the bed, anyway, I bet.
Section VII of Chapter 1
Last updated 12/11/15 Added second space after end punctuation; switched to ∼ instead of -- for attribution on quotations; 6/15/03.
Sunday, November 4th, 2001 10:06 am (pandemo)
http://pandemo.livejournal.com/17234.html
http://pandemo.livejournal.com/26921.html
http://summercircles.livejournal.com/2726.html
Back
...and the Bees ∼ The Recurring Dream
Character may be manifested in the great moments,
but it is made in the small ones.
∼ Phillips Brooks
"Where'd you plan to spend the night?"
"Do you have a plat map?"
Rustling around, she produced last year's edition. "Oh, now what did I do with the new one?"
"Is he in this one?"
"Yes. He lives on a century farm."
Quizzically raised eyebrows greeted her remark.
"When one family has owned a place continuously for 100 years, the owners can get the designation century farm.
Holding out the book, he said, "Show me."
As she discussed the distance and landmarks between the two farms, the dryer dinged. "Your clothes are done."
Unbidden, he headed into the utility room and removed his possessions, returning to the bathroom.
Definite star quality. I've got to get him out of here.
Returning, he said, "If I leave now, I can make it to work by 6," giving her a wry smile.
Her mouth formed an O of dismay. "I was just so tickled to be able to find someone who wanted to hire you, I didn't think about how long it would take you to get there using shank's mare."
Turning his body the directions he would go the same way a honey bee dances directions to its hive mates, he repeated from memory the route she'd showed him in the plat book.
It looks like a tribal dance, Despina thought as she watched him wide-eyed.
"Right?"
"Uh, I wasn't following the route; I was just admiring the scenery."
Impulsively plucking her body from the chair, he began the dance again, holding her at arm's length before him, facing the same way he was, turning her as he recited the land marks.
Her heart thudded so loudly she couldn't concentrate on his words.
"Right?"
Flustered, she pulled away. "I guess I wouldn't make a very good worker bee. I'd never find the flowers."
Ducking past him, she headed down the hall to the spare bedroom. "I'll take you, I guess. Let me clear off the spare bed."
"No."
She stopped, turning slowly to face him. She raised one eyebrow in question.
"Who lives in the old house down by the barn?"
"Nobody. It doesn't even have water or heat."
"Who owns it?"
"I do."
Picking up his pack, he slid it on, opening the door. "May I?"
Mother, May I? Frowning, she silently nodded her head. His feet would have hung out over the edge of the bed, anyway, I bet.
Section VII of Chapter 1
Last updated 12/11/15 Added second space after end punctuation; switched to ∼ instead of -- for attribution on quotations; 6/15/03.
Sunday, November 4th, 2001 10:06 am (pandemo)
http://pandemo.livejournal.com/17234.html
http://pandemo.livejournal.com/26921.html
http://summercircles.livejournal.com/2726.html