Blue Electric Monkey
Dear Lady Friday,
That’s a lovely story you shared, thank you so much. I’m immensely fond of a tale . . . well, truth be told, a tale or two or three or more! I shall hold this one near to heart. Would that I had a tale to return, alas, though I enjoy listening to stories, their telling is not my forte.
Your sister’s assessment on the nature of elixirs is interesting. We humans have a penchant for combing earth, sometimes devouring while digging into her nether reaches, in search for hidden and elusive potions, when often they’re under our nose, uncorked and unbottled. We only have to pause in our ceaseless wanderings to notice the elixirs all around us in the open, although the search that leads us there has its own invigorating appeal.
I am in fact acquainted with her; indeed she has been by my side whispering words of encouragement during my pregnancies and birthings. Recently she attended to my youngest child and I attended my sister, my mother’s youngest, while she labored and gave birth to her first child, a beautiful rosy-cheeked girl with whom I am smitten. If not for Mistress Monday’s wisdom, I would have missed the crowning moment and would not have been there to welcome her to our world and family when she emerged either, with a delicate hint of jasmine in bloom fragrant all around her. As things were, your sister, bless her, had me ready and out the door in just the right time and my son was happy in her company during my long absence. Unfortunately, she departed as suddenly as she arrived and I had no opportunity to thank her, which is how it has been every time our paths have intertwined. She simply appears and then vanishes, which led me to believe it is deliberate as she is perhaps a lady most private and impulsive. It hadn’t occurred to me to send her a message, but since you mentioned correspondence may give her joy, I shall do so . . . . what is the best way to send it? She doesn’t stay in one place for long.
This week has breezed by with bird and frog song loud, they chirp and peep all day into night, but I miss the song of bees. They’re sadly absent this far, nary a honeybee with scant bumbles; those who have come stay close to the rose bushes where I’ll tarry a while and enjoy a buzz with them. I’m happily caught up with planting, having recently dug in an array of gladiola bulbs and can hardy wait till their blades emerge dripping blossoms from their edges instead of blood. Green swords with a different point. In a few days the waterbearer visits and I’ll plant dahlia tubers, until then a welcome respite with buttercups and clover.
I must say I prefer your current courier; the last one gave me quite a fright. I had just finished making a batch of soap and was cleaning up when I saw him approach the kitchen door, and as I picked up my broom ready to shoo him away, I thought, “What in the world? There’s a bear knocking at the kitchen door?” With your message as it turned out. By the time I’d read to the end him, he’d tucked our birdfeeder under his arm and run off with it! Would you ask him to kindly return it? I’ll be sure to have honey and nuts ready for him when he comes next.