I have had quite a slow day today really. Under threat from precipitation, snow falls and occasional thunder, I have had a working day,organising my catalogues and boxing up my parchments properly,so they can be found at the drop of an order into my electronic box. Occasionally staring out of the window , to understand better where the rest of my small world is today, and seeing no one, led me to believe that everyone had decided to stay indoors,just like me. It has gone back to being cold again and I resent that - deeply.
I received a call quite early from the Faery Milliner to tell me that she wants to meet with me to discuss how my hair will be on my Betrothal Day, and to make a start on designing my headware, a stunning attifet,in burgundy and white, with sumptuous trimmings. I have been quite excited since. We are to meet next Thursday to begin the creative process.
Someone who wasn't looking very excited yesterday was my cleaning operative, Dilly Gumm. For two weeks now she has presented a picture of abject despair and careworn demeanour that I am beside myself knowing what to do to help. I plied her with tea and buns half way through her cleaning schedule,but even my witty repartee on the subjects of errant children and the vagaries of village life raised ne'er a smile or even a look of passing interest. At one point there was just a silence between us,me not knowing whether to break it,or what to break it with, and she just looking into my gaily spotted china teacup as though her heart might break at any moment. I sipped my tea as quietly as I could, praying for inspiration,or that one tiny word that would allow me behind the mask and into Dilly's inner world. Only to help. I value Dilly, I care about her , and her little family. She was so helpful when I had my accident before the Winter Solstice, went several extra miles to give a hand, just because in Dilly's world - that is the thing to do.
And now ,when I feel she has some terrible worry preying on her mind, I don't know how to reach her,and make it better.
"More tea" was all I could come out with,and in a squeak at that.
"I'd better get on," was all she mumbled back,laying down her half empty cup and heading for the kitchen.
I heard the pots clatter,and the sound of bustle in the kitchen,putting up the barriers for the moment to our having that all important exchange of information.
When Wally our house cuckoo came out for a prance at twelve, she collected her old woollen coat from the hall ,popped her head round the living room door ,carefully avoiding my gaze, and said in a strained but bright voice,"That's me done, Ms. Willow. I'll see you Thursday".
The voice was brighter, but the tell tale red marks above her cheekbones told me that she had shed a few solitary tears over the bedmaking upstairs. I could hold back no longer.
"Dilly, what's the matter ? Maybe I can help ? "
She looked at me with surprise,like a frightened rabbit caught foraging in the cabbage patch.
"Not today, Ms. Willow. I can't talk about it today. I'll see you on Thursday".
And with that ,she scurried down the path,not looking back,incase I chose to follow, or by lingering,she should give more away.
Poor Dilly. Not just suffering but keeping it to herself,like the tidy little brownie she is .
Dear Dilly. She must be helped. On Thursday I will speak with her, and I will open that door so that she can share her woes with someone else.
I must ask Pendragon if he knows of any grief occurring in Dilly's family network. Her husband works on the caretaking staff at Metropolis Hospital - Pendragon sees him regularly as he goes through the day .Pendi has such a feel for healing the unquiet spirit that I am sure he will have noticed if anything is afoot.
Tomorrow I visit the Faery Physio for more exercises,chosen to bring my muscle strength up to speed. I am almost one hundred per cent better,but occasionally my right leg decides to be difficult and tires easily.
I am also going to fit in an extra radio show in the afternoon, as Brinkus Hottenscotch is away on a one day break ,and he stipulated that my dulcet tones and knowledge of his kind of music were the only suitable replacements he could recommend.
I am truly flattered.
Take care, my rosey-cheeked comrades, to step lightly where the muddy paths wander. Slipping on an icy,mucky roadway now will leave you bruised to the bone and wet as a kipper.
From Amarantha Willow, the toadstool sylph, and all who abide in Flowerpot Cottage, 5 Lobelia Drive .
