Dragon’s Head Village: Crispin meets Hermonia, part 1

It had been several days since Crispin’s nap had been so rudely interrupted by Hermonia and Crispin would admit to being curious about the wee creature who had barged into his home.  He had caught several glimpses of her when they had been out on their daily afternoon walk but the wee creature had not ventured near again.  Crispin had asked Zovah several times but had gotten a non-answer answer which was highly irritating.

Crispin had woken this morning determined to seek out the wee creature and figure out what in the world was going on in the village.  Breakfast was over and Crispin slipped out of the house.  He knew how to be sneaky when he wanted to be and he most definitely wanted to be sneaky this morning.  He knew Zovah wouldn’t miss him this morning, she was talking to Tobias and writing.  Her attention would safely be elsewhere.

Crispin slipped from the house and carefully began his patrol of the village.  He was ignored by villagers who seemed to ignore him completely.  He wasn’t surprised this was the norm unless he was in a mood and was trying to get noticed.  Today, all he wanted was to slip out of the house and spy on the wee creature.

Hermonia was completely unaware she had attracted the interest and imagination of a dragon.  She was getting used to the new village and was meeting new people every day.  This village was very different than the last village, here no one looked at them strangely.  Hermonia never understood why people looked at her family strangely but she always knew that it occurred.  Here, the villagers ignored her family like the ignored the rest of the villagers.  Her family was accepted here and Hermonia was making new friends every day.

Hermonia had not lost her fascination or determination to learn all she could about dragons.  The whole idea was so magical and so spectacular to her that she couldn’t get enough.  Every night she dreamt of dragons, particularly Buttercup. 

After breakfast, Hermonia went outside to play.  She had her favorite doll with her and her stuffed lamb.  The lamb went almost everywhere with her prior to moving here. She talked to the lamb constantly, after all, the lamb had been her only friend prior to moving here.

Hermonia sat down and carefully set the doll and lamb beside her so that they could see everything.  Then the Daisy Fairy made an unexpected appearance.

“Morning, wee thing Hermonia” said the Daisy Fairy.

“Morning, wee thing Flavia” returned Hermonia.

Crispin had just turned the corner and he overheard the conversation.  He spied the doll and lamb seated next to the wee creature.  He assumed that she was talking them, but he noticed her attention was focused on the daisy directly in front of her.

Crispin decided to watch for a bit to see what he could learn about the wee creature.  He curled himself into a ball and most villagers would mistakenly assume that the white ball was a village cat and not Crispin the Village Prankster.

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Jane and the Journals, part 1

Jane couldn’t sleep and it wasn’t the gentle snoring symphony being conduct by Fred and George that was keeping her awake.  Her mind wouldn’t stop racing with the potential that was contained in the journals from Aunt Liza.  It had been a month since the journals had been delivered and it had been a month of non-stop activity.

Fred had meant it when he said he wanted to expand the house to accommodate a larger office for Jane.  In fact, the very next day Fred had been on the phone with contractors about the addition.  It didn’t take long for the plans to be settled and the work to begin.  Truth be told, Jane was still in awe at how quickly all of this had taken place. 

Jane slipped from the bed without interrupting the symphony and made her way to the kitchen.  Absent mindedly she set the kettle on to boil and  found a tea bag.  Waiting she let her mind wander.

The journals had been brought inside and carefully unpacked.  Jane had been sure to document the particulars of each journal on an index card before moving on to the next journal.  When she finished the documentation, she had her oldest son build her a database so that she could carefully catalog the journals.  She still preferred the old fashioned index card system but knew there was value in having the information stored electronically.

Jane caught the kettle mere moments before it began to shrill and made herself a cup of tea.  Carrying her mug, she carefully made her way into her office.  What had been considered chaos before was now utter anarchy.  There were stacks of journals from Aunt Liza balanced precariously on stacks of maps and books that had been there for years.  Everything was covered with plastic tarps to prevent them from being covered in construction dust. 

Jane sat down at her desk and placed her mug in it’s usual spot.  There was no chance of writing in the clutter and disorganization Jane knew, but she could sit at the laptop and document ideas that were keeping her up.  If she didn’t find an outlet for all of these ideas Jane knew she wouldn’t get a good nights sleep for another couple of weeks at least. 

With this thought, Jane began to type.  Her head bent over her laptop and the desk lamp illuminating only a small portion of the office.  Jane was so engrossed in the laptop, she forgot about her tea and was oblivious to the passage of time. 

Fred woke about 4 AM and immediately noticed that the sheets on Jane’s side of the bed were ice cold.  Fred went in search of his wife, knowing full well where he would find her.  Sure enough, there she was asleep at the keyboard, her fingers on the laptop.  Fred hated to wake her, to disturb the creative process but he knew that unless he did so, she’d sleep like that for another couple of hours and then be useless tomorrow with a painful  crick in her neck.

Waking his wife gently, Fred led Jane back upstairs to bed.  Jane was protesting half-heartedly about how she was just resting her eyes and she had too much work to do to sleep.  Fred agreed with her and tucked her into bed and Jane promptly fell into a deep sleep when her head hit the pillow.  Fred smiled and relaxed as he crawled back into bed.  His wife was so full of ideas that this was happening every night lately and he also knew the only “cure” was to get her new office completed sooner rather than later.

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Dragon’s Head Village: Zovah, the Dragon Walker, part 4

Zovah and Catha were so absorbed in catching up that they didn’t notice the passage of time.  They had grown up together and had been nearly inseparable until Catha met, fall in love with and married Jonas three years ear4lier.

They were laughing at something when there was a very soft knock on the front door followed by the door being pushed opened.  The girls heard neither the knock nor the door opening, but Crispin had heard.  There was a blur of motion as Crispin hurtled himself toward the invader.  He was brought up just shy of tackling the invader by one word, “Hi.”

Zovah and Catha caught a glimpse of his white furry form flying past them and toward the front door.  Zovah turned with a sense of impending doom and Catha was flat out confused.  “What the…” she said and at that precise moment she heard Hermonia’s voice.

Hermonia was completely oblivious to the commotion she had just caused.  She had woken from her nap, gotten a cookie and went wandering.  She saw the larger dragons snoozing in the back garden and decided to ask for permission to go play with them.  Being three and precocious meant that Hermonia’s natural sense of wonder and curiosity sometimes got her into serious social dilemmas of which she was completely unaware.

Crispin stared at the wee being in front of him, confused at how her voice could have prevented him from tackling her when she invaded his home.  “Hi yourself,” he replied.  “Just who are you and why have you invaded our home?”  His voice was deep and rumbled, completely unexpected from a creature of his stature. 

Hermonia looked unperturbed.  “I’m Hermonia.  I’m three and I want to play with the dragons in the garden.  May I?”

Zovah and Catha watched in mute silence. Catha was mortified that Hermonia had barged into Zovah’s home.  Zovah was amazed at how completely unafraid Hermonia was and how she could command respect from a dragon she had never met with one simple word.

Zovah glanced over at Catha, and laid a reassuring hand on her arm.  “Well, I see you two are in the process of becoming friends.” Zovah began.  “However, I don’t know how you are young lady so why don’t we try this again.  You go outside and knock and allow me to properly invite  you into my home.”

Hermonia looked up at the adults in the room for the first time and her smile widen when she spied her mother.  “Mommy!” 

“Don’t you Mommy me Hermonia!  You do as requested right this instant.  We will discuss your behavior later, at home.  And before you go back outside and knock properly, apologize to Zovah for barging into her home like a heathen.”  Catha’s tone was firm and Hermonia instantly complied.

The proper niceties having been taken care of, Hermonia was now seated on the sofa between Catha and Zovah.  Crispin had positioned himself on the floor directly in front of the “blonde bomb” as he had named her.  Crispin didn’t trust her, but at the same time, he trusted her completely. 

Hermonia was a still but quivering bundle of energy between the two adults.  Catha could feel her practically vibrating between them but she wasn’t about to indulge Hermonia’s intense drive for knowledge after a display of bad manners.

“Well, it is time to go.” Catha said getting up from the sofa.  “I’ll come over tomorrow and join you on your walk like we talked about.”

“I’d love that and you are welcome any time you want.” replied Zovah.

The two best friends exchanged looks, their ability to communicate without words still intact.  Hermonia only knew that she wasn’t being included and she still had questions that were unasked and unanswered.

“But Mommy,” she began.

“Stop right there missy.  Before you wind yourself up any further, there is no discussion.  If you are well behaved then maybe someday you can come over and ask questions and play with dragons.  Now wave goodbye to Crispin and Zovah and let’s be off.”

Crispin was listening intently.  He very much wanted to get to know the blonde bomb but he was willing to wait.  Hermonia waved solemnly and then took her mother’s hand with the most forlorn look on her face.

Hermonia was quiet and subdued for the remainder of the day.  It was too good to last everyone knew.

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Jane and the Delivery, part 4

Jane was still trying to comprehend the incomprehensible gift that now filled their garage when the phone rang somewhere in the house.  The noise startled George but not enough to dislodge him from his comfortable position.  Jane ignored the phone, figuring it was Fred ringing to say he was on his way home with dinner.

“So, George old boy, where does one start with the amazing gift sitting in the garage?” Jane  mused out loud.  The magnitude of the bequest was still overwhelming and Jane made no move to get up or dislodge George.

Twenty minutes later, the sun had set and the gorgeous sunset was completely lost on Jane.  It was the sound of Fred pulling into the driveway that roused Jane from her musings. 

“Oh lord, I forgot he doesn’t know to pull into the garage!” she said aloud as she flew out the front door to prevent her sometimes absent minded husband from pulling into the garage out of habit.

Fred stomped on the brakes as Jane came barreling out of the house like her hair was on fire.  Her face was puffy and streaked with tears and she looked exhausted.  Fred hit the garage door opener without thinking about it, still focused on his wife.  He caught sight of the garage and turned off the car.  Never taking his eyes from Jane’s face, he stammered “Jane, what is that?”

Jane had regained her sense of humor, “Well dear, I seem to remember you reminding me that we had a delivery today.  And boy howdy, what a delivery it was!”

Fred heard the amusement and awe in Jane’s voice but his brain was having trouble wrapping around the sight of his garage filled with the delivery.

“Stop gapping Fred and come inside.  I’ll explain over dinner.”

Fred nodded his head in agreement and grabbed dinner and his briefcase from the car without thinking.  Together they headed into the house and toward the kitchen.  Jane made a detour and picked up the letter and slid it back into the envelope.  Walking into the kitchen, she gathered plates and silverware and headed to the dining room.  Fred instinctively grabbed the dinner  he brought home and two beers from the refrigerator.

“Here is the letter that accompanied the delivery.  I’ll dish, you read.  But I warn you before you start, I bawled like a toddler without a nap.”

Fred took the letter and smiled.  The pale pink stationary so reminiscent of the aunt he loved and he began to read.  Jane dished dinner, setting Fred’s off to one side so Aunt Liza’s letter didn’t accidentally land in dinner.  Fred’s face was a kaleidoscope of emotions and as Jane snuck peaks at her husband as he read, she knew her face had probably looked similar earlier that day.

Fred finished reading, his eyes misty and he carefully returned the letter to it’s envelope and set it aside.  He took a long drag on his beer and faced his wife.

“I know” Jane said.  “Believe me I know.  I can’t begin to comprehend the amazing gift she gave us.  It is a very good thing I finished the edits on the book this afternoon before the delivery guys arrived.”

Fred nodded, “Satisfied with all the edits on Pippa’s latest adventure?”

“I am, not sure about the editor but the accompanying e-mail reminded her that I was done make edits on the manuscript and that it was ready to be published.”

“Good because if I know my wife, those pallets in the garage are going to keep you busy for the foreseeable future.”

Jane smiled at Fred and laughed, “Wise man, if I weren’t so overwhelmed and exhausted I’d be out there right now.  Where are we going to put the desk?  It is too large for my office.”  There was a note of sadness in Jane’s voice.

“Well, we’ve been discussing building an addition to expand your office space and I guess we have all the motivation we need now.”  Fred smiled and kissed Jane’s hand.

The tears had started again, “Oh Fred!  Really?  I knew I loved you but I would so love that!”

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Jane and the Delivery, part 3

My Dearest Jane, Fred, and family,

If you are reading this then I have finally meet my end.  With any luck, I died doing something I love and didn’t linger.

If that fool solicitor has properly done his job, then all the details of the Estate are handled and you have received the delivery along with this letter.  There should have been two large pallets of boxes and a lovely old desk delivered along with this letter.

I will get to the items delivered in a moment but first let me say how much I have enjoyed your company over the years.  You, Jane gave me the courage to live my dreams and stop living up to the expectations of long deceased parents and loved ones.  Jane, you and Fred told me to travel and enjoy the world and to not worry about leaving a large inheritance behind.

I have left behind something far more valuable than money as you will see.  I have traveled all over the last twenty years, going to the small little towns and villages all over the globe.  I discovered I had a talent for picking unique spots.  The amazing thing about unique spots?  They contain the most amazing and forgotten relics of history. 

The desk is a family heirloom, the only one I kept besides the jewelry.  The jewels went to the British Museum where they will be admired and cared for for generations to come.  The desk however I couldn’t bequeath to a museum where it would gather dust.  Please use it, love it, and pass it down through the future generations. 

Now for the boxes, the true gift you and Fred gave me and the one I want to return to you both.  On my travels and adventures, I found journals belonging to everyday people.  Some of these journals are the mundane lives of farmers and merchants and others talk about such frivolities as Seasons and coming of Age parties.  Others belong to people close to history makers, well known or otherwise.

Jane stopped reading, her mind reeling from the sheer generosity and magnitude of the gift Aunt Liza had bestowed.  The desk was an amazing gift but the journals were something Jane only dreamed about finding someday.

Liza had given Jane and her family the gift of knowledge.  Not the fleeting ever mutable knowledge that existed online, but the knowledge that came from living and recording events as they occurred around you.  Events, big or small, that shaped the world we all live in and which is now subject to constant electronic revision.  Jane was stunned by the magnitude of the gift but she continued reading.

The journals are my greatest accomplishment in life.  You will find journals from distant family members, including one that documents the discovery made by William Perkin himself.  My favorite journals come from small towns, the hopes and dreams contained in them are so vivid and timeless they almost transport you back to an older place and time.

I hope these journals will find a home with you and Fred and that they will become as cherished to your family as they were to me.  I hope they provide a source of inspiration and background material for Pippa’s adventures as well. 

In closing, know that I love you all and that I will be watching from above.  Enjoy one another and never forget to say I love you.  Do not mourn my passing, rather celebrate my life and the life you encouraged me to experience.

All my love, until we meet again.

Jane was sobbing.  The garage wasn’t just packed to the rafters with some forgotten boxes and furniture from a beloved relative.  Rather it was packed to the rafters with love and history and the hopes and dreams of people all over the world.  Jane felt the burden of it all but it was small compared to the utter excitement burning within her.

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Dragon’s Head Village: Zovah the Dragon Walker, part 3

Zovah heard the knock at the door as she set the kettle on the stove, pleasantly relaxed and looking forward to a quiet afternoon trying to write.  Opening the door, her jaw dropped and a smile lit up her face.

“Catha is it really you?” Zovah whispered in hope and amazement.

“It’s me Zovah, I’ve missed you.”  Catha responded with joy.

Zovah started to cry tears of joy and threw herself into Catha’s waiting arms.  Catha caught her and started crying herself.

Jonas smiled at the weeping women, shaking his head in amusement.  “Alright ladies, I’ll leave you to then shall I? Lovely to see you Zo.”  He waved and set out for his in-laws the sounds of weeping, laughter, and excited chatter following him as he strolled away from the two woman.

“No one told me that you were here, I thought you and Jonas had settled somewhere else.”  The words were tripping over themselves as Zovah tried to get all her questions out at once.

The kettle began to whistle inside, “Let’s go get the kettle and have a cup of tea  and catch up” Catha suggested propelling her childhood best friend through her front door.

Zovah made tea by memory and handed a cup to Catha.  “I am stunned, thrilled don’t misunderstand me but I’m stunned.  Not one person in this lovely village spilled the beans.  I think it’s the first time the whole village has kept a secret for as long as I can remember.”  There was laughter behind her words and sheer joy.

Catha smiled, “I know.  Mom and Dad told everyone that if they so much as hinted at it, then they would unleash Crispin upon the village when he had missed a nap.”

Zovah laughed out loud and just barely missed snorting tea through her nose.  “Well that explains why not so much a whisper of a hint was sent my way.  Are you here to stay or just visiting?  I’ve missed you.”

“Nope, we are home to stay.  Jonas and I went looking for some place to settle down earlier.  Hermonia decided to pester her grandparents into telling her all about Buttercup.”

“Oh, so she must be the adorable tiny blonde slip I saw Roland carrying earlier.”

“That would be her, I imagine she is peacefully dreaming of dragons right about now.  But I imagine that as soon as she awakes, she is going to start asking questions about you.”

Zovah smiled.  “She did look immensely curious earlier when she saw me.  But before she could ask me a question she fell asleep on your dad’s shoulder.”

Catha smiled, “Just wait until you meet her.  I’ll let you decided for yourself.  Now what’s happened in the last three years?”

The two best friends settled into for a long chat. 

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Jane and the Delivery, part 2

Jane registered Fred’s departure in the back of her mind, but all her attention was focused on the wording that was driving her mad.  The minutes slipped into hour sand  her coffee grew cold as Jane twisted and coaxed the wording to be just perfect.

About the time she was satisfied, Jane heard the cuckoo clock chime noon and she pushed herself away from her desk.  Grabbing her new icy cold mug of coffee, Jane headed for the kitchen.  She was famished and truth be told, had the beginnings of a massive caffeine deprivation headache forming.  Pouring herself an iced tea and throwing together a turkey sandwich, Jane grabbed her lunch and headed for the front porch.  George followed, knowing he could get a piece of turkey or two for lunch.

Jane settled into her chair on the front porch and admired the quiet and solitude of the surroundings.  “One of the advantages of living in the middle of nowhere,” she though “was the utter stillness and quiet.”  There was a gentle breeze rustling through the trees and the crisp early morning and turned into a lovely mildly warm day.  Jane finished her lunch, indulged George, and was sipping her tea as she saw a truck pull into the drive. 

Two burly men alighted from the cab and one approached as the other went around to the roll-up door on the truck.

“Delivery for a Mrs. Jane Perkin, that you?” inquired the burly man in a slow drawl.

“Yes, that’s me.  Do I need to sign something?”  Jane inquired.

“Sure do ma’am but first, where do you want us to deposit the delivery?”

“Well, can’t you just hand it to me?”

The man laugh, a deep belly laugh “No ma’am. you certainly don’t have hands large enough nor strong enough to hold this delivery.”

Jane was truly curious now.  “Alright, how big is the delivery then?”

“Well, I recommend the garage or an empty room in the house.”

Startled at the reply, Jane was momentarily taken aback by the response.  “Surely, it can’t be that large?”

Just then the back of the truck opened and Jane took a step back.  “Surely, that isn’t all for this delivery?”

“Sorry ma’am but that is what cleared customs and what we have been instructed to delivery to you.”  His reply was firm and concise.  Jane could hear the barely contained amusement behind his words.

Jane simply stared at the size of the delivery.  There was at least two pallets of boxes and one very large oblong piece that she could see.

“Well, certainly not what I was expecting.  Let me open the garage and I guess put everything in there.”  Jane slipped into the house and quickly had the garage door opened.

The two men proceed to offload the goods and the oblong object.  The delivery filled the garage by the time they were finished.

“Just sign here ma’am.” Jane signed the offered bill of lading and was handed a letter in return.

“Last item of the delivery.  You have a nice day now ma’am.”

And with that, the two burly men got back into the van and headed back to civilization.  Jane stood there, studying the full garage wondering exactly what she had just signed for.  Looking down at the letter in her hand, Jane recognized Auntie Liza’s handwriting and headed back to the porch.

Sitting in her chair, she carefully opened the letter and began to read.

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Dragon’s Head Village: Zovah, the Dragon Walker part 2

As Zovah was dragged to the point of flying behind the playing dragon’s, her delighted laughter could be heard singing though the flowers and trees of the surrounding countryside.  As the pack slowed and Zovah found herself tumbling quickly back toward the ground, she landed on the back of Tobias quite unceremoniously.

Pulling her skirts down and making sure all her parts were in their intended locale, Zovah proceed to restore order amongst the herd.

“Tobias thank you for allowing me to tumble onto you graceful back.  Crispin, dive bombing and startling your elders is impolite which you already know.  Now, then shall we resume our walk and head toward home and afternoon tea?”  Zovah’s voice was firm but loving.  She slipped from Tobias, momentarily lost between the graceful wing and his body before her feet hit the ground below.

There was a general whispering of agreement and Tobias resumed his position at the head of the herd.  Crispin landed on Myrtle's back and promptly fell asleep. Crispin’s all white body was a distinct contrast from Myrtle's coloration. 

Crispin was a the most mischievous of all the dragons in Zovah’s charge, a curious mix of cat and dragon from some long ago pairing.  Crispin was the last offspring of his parents and was young at just over a hundred years old.  He had retained all of the playfulness of his mother while being graced with the ability of the most agile fight Zovah has ever witnessed in a dragon.  He was the prankster of the lot, never failing to pull the leg of one of the older dragons any chance he could.

Zovah let the her pick their path home, not really paying attention to her surroundings.  She was lost in thought about how best to preserve the memories and stories of the dragons she shared her life with.  There was the persistent image of the fire-breathing dragon that burned down villages and destroyed the lives of people everywhere they were found.  Zovah’s favorite misconception about dragons in the stories told by people around campfires and to small children at bedtime, was that every dragon was guarding a treasure hoard that contained vast amounts of wealth.

Zovah knew differently.  Admittedly, while Buttercup and Norman had explored the vast world together there were fire breathing dragons destroying villages.  But what people failed to comprehend is that the dragons only ever attacked human villages in response to an attack on one of their settlements or young.  Dragons, even when Norman had been a very small child, were very rare.  They were a vanishing civilization and they mostly wanted to be left in peace.

Zovah had spent her life taking care of the dragons and listening to their tales.  Not once had she ever heard of a dragon wish for riches or whisper about their vast hoard of wealth hidden somewhere.  Zovah knew that dragons valued family above all else and she was so blessed to be considered part of their family.

Tobias tugged a little harder on his lead, rousing Zovah from her thoughts.  He had picked up the pace, eager to settle down for a nap.  He charged right into the village and headed straight for home.  Zovah, as usual, said a silent prayer of thanks that she had no close neighbors as Tobias charged for home.

Arriving home, she threw open the gate and undid each lead as the dragons waited patiently for their turn.  They each received a cuddle and all knew to nose around her pockets to find their treat.  Myrtle was last today, her steps slow and methodical.  Zovah petted her pale orange head and told her how proud she was of her. 

Myrtle was old, well over a thousand years old and as much as she loved her afternoon walk, she was always tired when they returned home.  Myrtle butted her head against Zovah’s hip, searching in vain for one more cookie.  Zovah sighed, laughed and gave the old girl one last cookie.  “After all,” Zovah thought to herself, “if I were Myrtle’s age I’d want extra cookies too.”

Just as Myrtle climbed onto her sunny bed, high up off the ground and settled herself onto her large, soft, hot pink bed she heard a knock on the front door. “How odd,” Myrtle thought to herself as her eyes fluttered close and she fell fast asleep.

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Jane and the Delivery, Part 1

Monday dawned cold and crisp and Jane was reluctant to get out of bed.  Fred was snuggled under the covers, still sleeping, and Jane was loathed to disturb him.  After all, it wasn’t yet six in the morning and it wasn’t his fault she was awake.

Jane lay there, contemplating getting out of the cocoon of warmth when the decision was made for her by George.  George rumbled himself wake and instantly demanded that he be petted and fed at the same time.  Jane reluctantly slipped from the covers and into slippers and a robe and headed toward the kitchen.

George fed and coffee brewing, Jane silently went and got dressed.  Returning to the kitchen and taking her steaming mug of coffee, Jane headed for her office only stopping to turn the thermostat up a couple of degrees along the way.  Drapes open and George curled up in his spot, Jane sat down at her desk to enjoy the sunrise as it streaked pinks across the morning sky. 

The laptop on the desk fired up and Jane realized she had a large backlog of emails from the weekend to wade through, her least favorite chore on a Monday morning but she refused to check emails over the weekend.  Handling the junk mail first reduced the number of emails to be dealt with considerably.  There was only one email that caused Jane more than a second thought, the one  from her publisher demanding to know when the final edit of the book would be completed.  Jane fired off a response and then closed the mail program.

Jane sat back and sipped her coffee, lost in thought.  Her office was the exact opposite of the rest of the house.  It was utter chaos.  There were stacks and piles of books everywhere.  Two walls had floor to ceiling bookcases filled with books in no particular order to an outside person.  George was asleep in the picture window which faced East, although to be fair he had to wedge himself in and out of stacks of books and old maps that tumbled on his pillow cushion.  The last wall was covered in a wide variety of photographs stuck through with brightly colored pushpins into the corkboard that covered the remaining wall.

Jane was a writer of historical fiction.  Her heroine, Pippa, darted about the universe never knowing when her next adventure might occur.  Her last novel had seen Pippa stumble across an antique Celtic brooch lost from a traveling museum show. Pippa had found herself transported to Ninth century Scotland learning the history of the brooch and the people who loved it. 

Pippa, and all the women in her family for generations, had this amazing and, yet weird, connection to old things that had been created with love and devotion.  Pippa had been to First Century Rome and Sixteenth Century Poland in two previous novels. 

Jane’s work had been well received and her publishers wanted her to churn novels out faster and faster.  They utterly failed to grasp that the reason Jane’s novel were successful is the amount of time and research it took to make time-travel novels possible without being labeled a Dr. Who or Jasper Fforde copycat.  It wasn’t like Jane could sit in front of the computer, put a search term in and have the world she wanted to write waiting for her. 

The novel her publishers were chomping at the bit for, saw Pippa in colonial America experiencing the Revolution and the formation of the country in the company of Abigail Adams.  It was basically complete but Jane was still struggling with some scenes involving the founding fathers but she knew she was close to completion of the novel.

Fred walked into her office, kissed her goodbye for the day and smiled as she absent mindedly returned the kiss still lost in thought.  She was startled from her pondering however when Fred popped his head back in and said, “Hey love, don’t forget that delivery from Auntie Liza is due today.”

Jane’s head popped up, “Oh bother, it had completely slipped my mind.  Any idea when they are due?”

“Nary a clue my love.  I’m off, I’ll be home this evening.  I’ll pick-up dinner on the way.  I have a feeling it is going to be a heck of a day for you.  I will call when I’m on the way home with dinner.  Love ya doll.”

“Love you too,” Jane called out as her husband disappeared from view.  Her brain already back on trying to solve the problem that was the wording that bugged her immensely in the manuscript. 

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Benefitting Smithson: Iris Douglas, Part 2

Friday morning dawned bright and sunny.  Buckey was curled up in the small of her back and his warmth was comforting.  Iris never liked waking up alone and cherished those mornings when she woke before Buckey.  “Maybe someday I’ll meet that someone special but for right this moment, I’m content.”  she whispered as she pet the cat.

Buckey quickly decided he had enough and stalked off the bed and went to sun himself in the window.  Iris smiled and lay there, comfortable and silently planning her long weekend’s activities.  She wanted to get her office painted, she was very interested in reading some new research concerning petroglyphs in the Tucson area, the roses needed to be dead headed, and she had to go shopping.  As much as she hated to admit it, the house was devoid of food and dinner last night had cleaned out her supply of leftovers to reheat in a pinch.

Iris typically devoted one day every couple of weeks to shopping and cooking.  She picked up perishable items as required but the majority of her meals were pre-cooked and frozen into individual portions.  It was an old trick she had learned growing up, watching her mother do the same only freezing in family size portions.

Iris slipped from bed and made her way to the kitchen.  Her movements sure and routine, she made a cup of freshly ground coffee quickly and without thought.  As the coffee brewed she toasted a bagel and grabbed her personal laptop from her office.  Grabbing breakfast and coffee, she headed for the patio.

The roses were heavy with new buds opening and old blooms shedding their petals.  The pale lavenders and yellows contrasted nicely with the blood red roses.  Looking at her roses garden Iris quickly decided that she’d tackle the roses this morning, paint this afternoon, and head up to her parent home early this evening.  Shopping and cooking could wait until Sunday when she got home. 

Iris picked up her cell, “Morning Mom, I’ll be up late tonight.  Don’t wait up for me, I have my key and tell Dad to book golf for tomorrow.”

The pleasure was evident in Cathy’s voice as she responded, “Morning Pumpkin and sure thing, about golf.  But you know your dad, he will wait up until you are here and safely in for the night.”

Iris sighed, “I know Mom but you’d think that at my age he’d know I’m old enough to take care of myself by now.”

“Well, he does know that but it doesn’t change the fact that he will always be over-protective.  Love him for it, don’t resent him for it.”  Her tone was slightly chiding and Iris felt guilty.

“I know, just seems silly that’s all.”

“Yep, I agree but someday you’ll understand when you have children of your own.  Now go do what you need to do so that we can have the pleasure of your company tomorrow.  Love you.”

“Love you too, I’ll call when I leave.”  Iris said and hung up.  Plans in place, Iris headed inside to brew another cup of coffee.

Heading back outside, Iris quickly located her clippers and leather gloves.  The sun was warm on her back as she set forth beginning to work on cleaning up the rose bushes.  The work was a labor of love and Iris was methodical, making quick work of the roses.

Pulling off her gloves, she grabbed her coffee cup and sat down to finish the last half of the cup and admire her work.  It was just before eight in the morning, but already she felt like she had accomplished a lot.  The roses now looked like tamed, wild beauties which made Iris smile.

Deciding to forgo a third cup of coffee, Iris changing into her painting duds and headed for her office.  The primer and first coat of paint had already been applied.  Iris was now at the decision point, did she leave the room a solid color or did she want to be adventurous and do something different.  Buckey wandered in and surveyed the mess.  Deciding that it wasn’t meeting his high standards, he stalked from the room and disappeared from view.

Iris laughed, “That cat always has an opinion about everything.”  The walls, however, failed to reply to her empty room observation.

Iris had decided to paint the office a pale yellow color but as she stood there surveying the room she began to second guess the decision.  The color wasn’t popping and it was boringly predictable.  “Well then, time to get busy figuring out how to jazz up this office because no way is my home office going to be dull.”  Iris announced to the room.

Walking over to her desk, which was in the dead center of the room at the moment she impulsively grabbed a sketch pencil and walked over to the wall opposite the window.  Before she could second guess herself, she began to sketch on the wall.

“If I hate the results, I can always re-prime and repaint the wall,” she thought to herself.

Iris let her imagination take over and just allowed herself to sketch whatever struck her fancy on the wall.  Two hours or so later, she stepped back from the wall and went to the opposite side of the room to study the wall.

Unsurprisingly, the sketches had been an eclectic mix of all those things she loved in her life.  There was a haphazard stack of books, a vase of flowers in the dead center of the wall, a family of quail heading for the door, a Kokopelli dancing against the setting sun, and cluster of Southwest baskets. 

The wall worked for Iris.  The pale yellow was a nice neutral to allow the colors of the sketches to pop when painted in and it represented who she was.  Sure, she was never going to be a famous artist but hey, who cared she liked it and it was her office.  The three remaining walls needed a second coat of paint and then she would add some rustic wainscoting to add character to those walls as well. 

“Right, so first things first I need to go change and head over the the paint store so I can paint in the sketch wall.” She said as she made her way back into her bedroom to change into something presentable.

Iris was often in the habit of talking to herself and it never occurred to her that this behavior might be odd.  Dressed in a comfortable sundress, sandals and her hair tied back in a pony tail Iris was about to head out when the sound of her cell phone spoiled the mood.

One look at the number and Iris was on high alert.  “Iris Douglas, State of Arizona are my parents alright?” she demanded as she answered the phone.

“Morning Iris, your parents are fine I swear,” sobbed the voice on the other end.  “We need your help immediately.  Can you meet Matt at Carson’s office as soon as possible please?”

“Sally?  What happened?”  Iris barked the questions, she was trying to be gentle but her professional demeanor had kicked in.

The sobbing increased and Iris took a deep breath.  “Sally, tell Matt I will be there in less than two hours.  I’m taking a helicopter to Flagstaff and I will drive to Smithson from there.  Hang on, I promise I’m coming.”

Iris hung up and made the necessary calls as she changed clothes and headed back downtown.  Something bad had happened and she needed more than anything to know what that something was.

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Dragon’s Head Village: Zovah, Dragon Walker part 1

Hermonia was dozing on Grandaddy’s shoulder as they strolled back to the house when suddenly her head bolted upright.

“Grandadddy what and who is that?” Her voice was filled with awe and wonder and her tiny finger pointed toward what had caught her eye.

“Hermonia, pointing is rude” responded Roland as he glanced behind him.  “Oh that’s Zovah out for her afternoon walk.  Now go back to sleep.”

Hermonia had questions but she couldn’t keep her eyes open and so she complied.

Zovah saw Roland carrying the small blonde child and smiled.  Just then one of her charges decided to become a wee bit unruly and her attention was immediately focused on Myrtle the dragon turtle.

Myrtle was the last of her kind and was a unique dragon amongst many other unique dragons in Zovah’s care.  Myrtle was pale orange in color and small for a dragon.  Her shell was a blending of pale yellows and greens.  Her eyes were a flashing deep blue, the color of an angry sky.  Myrtle’s lead was hot pink and as soon as she spotted it she was more than ready to go on her afternoon walk.

“Myrtle, seriously please be on your best behavior.  There are new people in the village and we don’t want to scare them off do we?”  Zovah chided.

Myrtle tossed her head dismissively, still intent on getting her way and what Myrtle wanted was to be the lead dragon on this afternoon’s walk.

Zovah was also the last of her kind, a dragon handler.  Dragons had all but disappeared from the world, hunted by men for various reasons.  Now all the known dragons remaining lived her in Dragon’s Head Village.  Zovah had loved dragons for as long as she could remember and there was never any thought of being anything other than a dragon handler. 

Zovah walked the dragons every afternoon, each dragon on a lead and each dragon intent on being the lead dragon that day.  Today, Tobias the Timid was the lead dragon.  Tobias was a flamingo dragon.  He was beautiful shades of pink with a long neck, thin legs, and wings that could cover the entire village when he decided to open them.  However, Tobias was very shy and very skittish around most people.  However, Tobias loved to be admired.  He loved being the lead dragon on afternoon walks, and was therefore determined to put Myrtle the Turtle in her place.

Tobias swiveled his long neck and artfully head-butted Myrtle.  Quite pleased with himself, he then swing his neck forward, stood a little taller, and resumed setting the direction the pack would take.

Zovah shook her head and Tobias and Myrtle, but couldn’t deny that his discipline had been far more effective than her words had been.  The other dragons were all peacefully ambling long, following Tobias’ lead.  The much smaller dragons were flying circles above her head, occasionally dive bombing the larger dragons playfully.

Zovah was about five feet tall and was solidly built.  Her long auburn hair glistened in the afternoon sunlight as she kept on eye on her charges.  She lived alone with only the dragons for company. 

The dragons were the blessing and curse to the village.  Outsiders, always curious to own a dragon sometime foolishly tried to raid the village and steal a one away.  Never had there been a successfully attempt, for while the dragons were coveted by outsiders their love and protection for Zovah and the people of the village was far more immense then the covetous desires of outsiders.  Each dragon under Zovah’s care was the last known dragon of their species and as such, Zovah treasured the tales they told and antics they got into. 

As the afternoon walk continued, Zovah’s mind wandered to the blonde bundle that had been snuggled in Roland’s arms earlier.  She was curious and hoped it meant her childhood friend and her family had returned.  Perhaps she would have visitors later in the afternoon, she thought.

And just then, Crispin dive bombed Sedona and the flock of dragons was off.  Zovah holding on for all she was worth as they dragged her behind them as they scampered, stomped, fluttered, and roared through the meadows near the village.  Zovah laughed with delight as she flew behind the dragons, letting herself enjoy the romp knowing that no harm would come to her.

(*Inspired by the lovely and incredible artwork of Julie Dillon entitled Afternoon Walk.)

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Benefitting Smithson: Iris Douglas part 1

Iris pushed herself away from her desk and stretched.  Her muscles were sore and achy after being on the job for sixteen straight hours. 

Buzzing her secretary as she packed up the essentials to take home, she said “Lori, I’m beat.  I’m heading home.  I’m not on call but if something urgent comes up, as usual have the team call if they need my assistance.  I’m taking tomorrow off as well.”  Her husky voice was laced with exhaustion and lack of sleep.

“Sure thing Iris.  Get some rest and we will see you Monday.”  Lori replied.

Iris finished packing her briefcase and then grabbing her purse headed for her car, waving goodnight to colleagues as she did so.  As she emerged from the basement which housed the State of Arizona’s forensic offices and pathology departments,  Iris immediately relaxed realizing she had yet missed the sunset. 

March sunsets were a thing to behold in Arizona.  They ranged widely in colors from deep reds and flaming oranges to light pink.  Hot weather was rare for March, but warm days weren’t unheard of and the sunset promised a warm tomorrow.  The sky was a riot of navel orange and blushing pink tinged with puffy white clouds. 

Iris stopped and just let the sunset rejuvenate her for a couple of minutes.  She waved goodnight to friends and colleagues as they rushed to their cars and their waiting personal lives.  Iris was content to just tune out the city noise around her and enjoy the splendor of the evening sky for a couple of minutes.

As the sun sunk lower in the sky, a slight breeze picked up and Iris shivered slightly.  Shaking herself back into the present, Iris headed for the car suddenly eager to be home and out of work clothes.  Finding her car, she tossed her briefcase and purse in the backset and slid behind the wheel. 

She turned the engine over and had that same momentary thrill she got every time she got in her beloved Jaguar. It was British racing green with tan interior and it was her pride and joy.  Sure, she knew the upkeep on the car was outrageous but it was worth it to drive her dream car.

Pulling out of the parking garage, Iris headed for home.  Luckily her place in Phoenix wasn’t overly far from the office and she was home much faster than those that worked downtown and lived in the surrounding communities.  Iris was lucky enough to find a house in the the old part of Phoenix when the house market bubbled burst a couple of years ago.  The house had been sold by an elderly couple that had purchased it new right after the war.  They made a tidy profit for their sunset years on the beach in Maui and Iris got a great house that needed some work.

Walking into the house, Iris greeted the cat who was waiting for her by the back door.  He angrily expressed his displeasure at her extended absence and his empty food bowl.  Iris bent down and petted him apologizing in the process, “Sorry Buckey but it was one of those days.  How about dinner and cookies?”  Only response was louder purring and winding through her legs.  Quickly handling Buckey’s empty food bowl, Iris headed for a hot shower.

Half hour later, Iris emerged from her room clean, relaxed and in a comfy shirt and yoga pants.  Pouring herself a glass of water, she quickly assembled dinner and grabbed a beer.  Carrying dinner to the patio, she flicked on the outside heater and sat down to eat.  When she had moved in, the first thing she had tackled was the backyard.  Now it was an oasis of old growth palm trees and a two large, shade providing Arizona Ash trees.  She had planted a large variety of roses when she moved in several years ago.  Her backyard was her retreat from the stress and emotional drain of being the head of forensics for the state.

The backyard was brimming with life.  The flowers attracted birds and in the summer months the water feature was always popular with the hummingbirds.  She ate most meals out here, enjoying the smells and sounds. 

Dinner complete, Iris sat there and just enjoyed the slow, fragrant night all around her.  Her cell phone buzzed and she looked down, silently praying it wasn’t the office.  Her prayers answered, she said, “Evening Mom, how’s life in Smithson?”

“Same as any small town in the country I imagine, peaceful.  Just calling to see how you are pumpkin pie.” 

Her mother’s voice was husky like her own and sounded like home and apple pie to Iris.  “Tired but otherwise fine,” Iris replied.

Cathy listened to her daughter and heard the weary in her voice.  “Are you coming up this weekend?”  She asked, suddenly feeling the need to pamper her eldest.

“Wasn’t planning on it Mom.  I would love to but I need to get some work done around here and I have a trial starting Monday that I need to prep for.”

“Well, the offer stands.  Your father would love to go golfing with you and I am making apple pie tomorrow.  And there is a sauerbraten without your name on it waiting to be roasted.”

Involuntarily Iris groaned and then laughed when she caught herself.  “Not fair Mom.  You are tempting me with some of my favorite foods on the planet that you make better than I do still.”  Cathy laughed and Iris knew there was a sly smile on her face.  “I can’t make any promises tonight but I will call tomorrow and let  you know.”

“Can’t ask for more than that,” Cathy replied.  “Sweet dreams pumpkin.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow.  We both love you.”

Iris returned the family evening sentiment and hung up the phone.  Buckey wandered onto the patio and jumped into her lap.  As she petted the contented orange fur ball, Iris planned out what she wanted to finish over the weekend.  The yard needed some attention she didn’t trust the gardeners to do properly and she needed to get that final coat of paint up on her office walls.  Maybe, if she got that accomplished tomorrow she could retreat to her parents home for the weekend with Buckey and avoid the unpleasant smell of drying paint.

Satisfied with her plans, Iris headed back into the house and found her book.  Curling up in her favorite chair on the patio Iris lost herself in a good book until it was time to retire for the night.

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