Other stories seem to be evoked by the weather. They arrive in a gust and shake themselves down. They require no introductions. They bustle over the threshold, sit by the fire warming their metaphorical hands and are at once in full flow, so that I am sitting quietly, listening amazedly, before I do but know it.
This is once such tale.
What a blustery, flustery day! A blue skies and red berries day.
The sea will be ready to roil down at the bottom of the hill. It will look cruel and icy with its masses of jaggy, foaming peaks.
Brave Pearl has ventured out. Even now she will be battling along the coastal path in search of ‘paticular provisions’. I saw her leaving the house with a large shopping basket and that was what she was saying to herself as she looked out at the day:
“Needs must when there are paticular provisions to be bought.”
Then she stepped outside, batting at her scarf and her curls as they were flung about her face. She is dauntless our Pearl.
I believe there will be butterfly cakes for tea.
Always on a day such as this Pearl has a penchant to bake. She loves the warmth and the steam of the kitchen, with the windows misting, shutting out the wild weather as she beats up a storm of her own. Clouds of sugar rise into the air. Eggshells, cracked halves, rock like little boats on the table as she creams and beats and sifts, and folds and stirs. You see, Pearl’s butterflies are just perfect for a day like today. Light and airy, they might just lift up and drift away if we didn’t pounce on them and eat them up so quickly.
Ha ha blustery old hurricane, do what you may!” that’s what Pearl’s butterflies seem to say.
She adds a few droplets of almond essence to the butter icing. Our mother’s receipt:
“Just a little sharp to offset the sweet.”
Hm I can taste them now. Delightful with a cup of Rosy Brewhaha.
Come home safely Brave Pearl.
Thanks for visiting, most welcome one and all.