Character Sketch

Character Sketch:

                 She has blonde, straight hair, soft, large, expressive, brown eyes. She stands at a lanky height of 5 feet 6 inches. Her limbs still retain their young coltish appearance and she has a habit of tripping over her own feet or when going up or down stairs. She comes from a tight knit family and has recently moved into a bigger public school from a small private school. The story/narrative is taking place during her first homecoming week. She loves science and is excited to start learning more than what her private school wanted to tell her. She has an inquisitive mind, and is always questioning how things are and how people act around and towards each other. She has been fascinated with her fellow students since starting at the bigger school, and sees their interactions as an opportunity for her to practice her anthropological study skills.

Not for little girls

                James and Adelaide stood still just inside the door. They had come from a small house, but this was smaller still, and Adelaide worried where they both were going to sleep.

                Wreke seemed to notice their apprehension to come further inside. “It’s alright, make yerselves at home.” He had left the rifle near the front door, propped up against a small bench and plopped himself into one of the rockers near the fireplace. Adelaide helped James over to the chairs, and eased him down into one. Not knowing what to do next, she made her way into the small kitchen alcove.

                The items were mostly covered in a thin film of dust, except one cabinet. On this cabinet there were hand prints revealing where Wreke often opened the door. She took a chance, and started opening the door when Wreke’s voice caught her off-guard.

                “That cabinet is not for little girls.” Her hand jerked back in reflex and she felt heat rising to color her cheeks. “You can go in any other cabinet, but not that one.” She ducked her head, though she knew Wreke couldn’t see her fully in the dim lighting of the cabin.

                Looking around for something to do, she noticed an old teakettle sitting despondent on the stove. 

                “Where can I get some water?” She didn’t want to leave James alone, but she felt that she might as well start doing something useful around the place.

                “There’s a pump to a well not too far around back of the barn.” The voice that floated over to her sounded like the owner was falling asleep. She decided that James would be okay by himself for a little while.

                The light blinded her as she stepped out on to the porch. She blinked in the change in light and managed to get down the stairs without tripping or falling down them. Heading around the back of the barn, she paused and patted the old mule on the nose. He flicked an ear at her and continued in his afternoon nap, his tail lazily flicking at flies.

                At the back of the barn there was an obvious pump, but when she tried to get water out of it, nothing happened. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, and looked around. The trees were closer here to the barn than to the house. She just closed her eyes and breathed in the fresh air. It was similar to the woods that had been near her family’s house. If she was still and listened hard, she could almost hear the brook not far from the barn.

                But she wasn’t imagining the bubbling. The faint clean smell of water drifted on the breeze, and the sound of water trickled over rocks. She opened her eyes and looked around, caught sight of a footpath into the woods.

                She crunched the undergrowth under her shoes and the light filtered down through the treetops as she followed the path. The trail sloped downhill and the sight of water blinked up through the brush. The kettle banged sharply against her leg as she dropped down the last few feet to the creek.

                The water ran bright and clear through the rocks. She bent down and dipped the kettle into a niche in the rock that seems designed to hold it. While the water filled, she took off her bonnet. Her blonde hair glimmered in the soft light as it tumbled down her back. She was enjoying the warm sunlight until a sharp crack from the woods across the creek startled her.

                Her eyes focused on a shadow crouching across from her. As her eyes adjusted she was able to make out the figure of a person. But the person was barely clothed! Her fair cheeks flushed with embarrassment at seeing someone who was clearly not a child, but was not wearing many clothes.

                “Hello?” She felt like she had to say something; the figure across from her flinched.

Two for One

                “Margaret, kindly take these two to Wreke’s place on the ridge.” The large man glanced back to where Adelaide was settling her brother into a comfortable position. “And please, warn her in the sternest language you posses.” He patted the older woman on the shoulder and walked back into his house, his mind already on something else.

                “Why don’ you come up ‘ere an sit with me?” The older woman patted the open bench next to her with a weathered hand. Adelaide, with one last glance at her sleeping brother, climbed up to sit next to her.

                “Now isn’t that better?” When the older woman smiled there were teeth missing, and Adelaide turned quickly to look straight ahead. Margaret flicked the reins and the mule started plodding along.

                The two women road in silence as the wagon slowly made its way out of the small settlement and into the thinning trees. The trees were thinned by the settlers needing the raw materials to construct their new buildings, and they had just started bouncing back. The wagon headed roughly north and bounced slightly with the dips from other wheels and hooves that had taken the same path.

                “Do you know anything about where you and that brother of yours are going?”

                “No ma’am. I was told that Wreke only signed the papers for my brother.” She paused, her fingers pleating her dress into neat folds. “I was supposed to go to a family to help with the children and housework. But I couldn’t leave my brother.” Margaret glanced back at the sleeping form in the wagon bed behind the women.

                “That’s very noble of you.” Margaret flicked the ends of the reins against the mule’s rump when it started to refuse crossing a small crick. “Mr. Ardell wanted me to tell you a few things about the place you and your brother are going.” She paused, “The man who contracted your brother needs someone with a strong back to help him get his crops up.”

                “I can help with that.” Adelaide stared ahead, her blue eyes fixed on a far away point. They rounded a bend in the trail, and a small hand built cabin came into view. Chickens roamed the small dirt path in front of the empty porch, and an old looking mule was inside of a rough hewn paddock. There was no evidence of Mr. Wreke.

                Adelaide turned to wake her brother as Margaret pulled the wagon to a stop and pushed the break against the wheel. 

                “Are we there, Addy?” James mumbled as Adelaide put his arm around her shoulders and helped him out of the wagon.

                “Yes, we are.” She whispered back to him.

                “Mr. Wreke! The boy that you signed papers for is here!” Margaret turned back to the two young people she had brought. “Now there are a few things that you both need to know.” Her grey eyes flicked towards the small house as the inhabitant shuffled around the house. “Wreke likes his bottle.” Her eyes flashed over to the house as the door creaked open. “Just make sure to lock yourself up at night, Miss Tealby.”

                Margaret climbed back aboard the wagon and with one last look at the two young people and flicked the mule to begin her way back to the settlement. The door continued opening as Adelaide and James stood at the bottom of the porch stairs.

                A wiry man with thinning grey hair holding a rifle came through the door. His dark brown eyes above a reddened nose blinked in the change of light. “An’ what are you two doing here?”

                Adelaide adjusted her brother’s arm across her shoulders, “We are here to serve out the papers you signed, Sir.”

                “An’ what am I to do with a boy who can’t even stand up, and young girl like yerself?” His voice rasped like old husks of corn in a fall breeze.

                “I used to help my family on our small plot of land.” She looked up defiantly at the man standing on the porch above them. “I’ve got a strong back and I can clean house better than many girls.”

                “And I can cook, Sir.” James spoke up next to his sister for the first time and Wreke’s attention snapped to the boy.

                “Oh, can ye now?”

                “Yes, Sir, just as well as my sister here.” James glanced at his sister. “And she’s just as good as me when it comes to outdoor work. Our father and mother thought we should learn everything and help with everything around a house.” He sighed, and rested more heavily against Adelaide.

                Wreke scratched at his scalp with his free hand, the rifle still in his other hand. He squinted at them. “So I don’t have to sign any more papers for you?” he directed the question to Adelaide.

                She shook her head. “No. The family I was promised to released me so that I could stay with my brother.” She re-adjusted James arm again. “I’m here of my own free will.”

                Wreke’s expression cracked into a crooked smile. “Well all right then. Two for the papers of one.” He turned to go back inside the cabin. When he noticed the other two had not followed he turned and waved a hand towards them.

                James and Adelaide looked at each other, and with small hobbling steps, made their way up to the open front door.

Knowledge

He to whom God had give knowledge
And the gift of speaking eloquently,
Must not keep silent nor conceal the gift,
But he must willingly display it.



This was written by an author known only as Maire De France from the middle ages. Her exact identity is not known, but many intelligent people have theorized that she was the illegitimate daughter of Geofrey of Anjou and therefore a half sister to Henry II.
I stumbled across this quote in my Medieval Literature class's textbook and thought that it was interesting. I think I agree with her in this. Thoughts?

Tools of the Trade

Made for Riding

                Two pairs of them sit side by side. One is shorter and a light tan on the top with a darker underside; great for hiding dirt. Many take them for hiking boot, except for the re-enforced toe area. They are well worn, and much loved. The other, their counterpart, is made for long hours spent in a stirrup. They are black and look like they belong to a different discipline altogether. They extend up and over the ankle of the wearer to protect and support the wearer. They are covered in a light film of dust and dirt that makes their color more black than brown. They both sit near the door leading to the garage. They have been banned from the carpeted areas.

Snug

                The long black protectors hang from the banister leading to the basement. They are sewn from the best and softest leather. No longer coated in the dirt and dust, it can be seen that they are well worn, but well cared for. They keep the riders lower leg warm in the fall and winter riding and keep the leg in close to the saddle all year. Even in the most extreme of heat waves, they are there, strapped sung to the riders leg. They have spent many an hour on the trail, protecting the vulnerable legs from brush, bugs and supporting the delicate lower leg of the wearer.

Julie Fowlis - Hùg Air A' Bhonaid Mhòir

DIY

   I like DIY ideas. Over the years I have picked up many skill from DIY projects:
       I have learned how to crochet a different stitch for making a scarf for loved one by watching a youtube video. 
       I learned how to care for a few odd plants that I now possess.
       I learned how to lay tiles in a bath room or kitchen.
       I learned, from doing, how to dig and fill in a trench for a drainage pipe properly.
       I've learned the "Measure twice, Cut once" philosophy. (I still have a bad habit of not though)
       I've learned how lay out and tamp down a brick patio.
       I learned how to train horses (Mostly from books/videos etc, but some from people too)
       I've learned how to lay down a faux-wood flooring system. 
   These are but a few of the many things that I have picked up over the years from books, TV, magazines, and of course, everyone's favorite: youtube!
   I really like the idea of Zines and self publishing. Self publishing was something that I was going to start looking into in December when I graduate. Not necessarily for Zines, but for my novels and short stories. I am hoping that the knowledge that I can glean from working with and even producing Zines of my own can transfer over nicely to self publication of slightly larger works. 
    I really enjoy the DIY attitude, it's more of a "can do" than just needing to "call in the professionals". It can save time (and money), and it's empowering to the person who is trying to give themselves some new knowledge or skill set. This attitude is what I feel the early settlers had. The attitude of learning and working on things themselves. I feel as a culture and society that we have gotten lazy, and that DIY culture/projects can help alleviate that ambivalence towards tasks and new projects.