The Farm Picture
Written By: Zehra Nasirali
Date: 2000
The clock was ticking away as the hustle bustle
of the morning household broke. It was
around sixish and Mme Dupont had the encompassing feeling of laze and
comfort. She put on her aqua blue robe
that had a checkered border and stretched her arms to break free from the
snugness of her bed. She walked outside her bedroom and the doors to the
adjacent rooms were ajar, revealing the unmade covers and ruffled up pillows. Her eyes were half open and therefore, the
mess and vigor of her foster kids did not irritate her.
Mme Dupont climbed down the wooden
staircase that was architectured in a spiral, and she sounded a creak as she
stepped upon the creaky boards of the kitchen.
She trotted over to the side door of her cozy, country barn and pulled
apart the chiffon-like white curtains with her soft hands. The sight was nonetheless encapturing. As she slid open the door to call the
children in for breakfast, a cool breeze of wet grass, and dry mud combined
with the fresh scent of jasmine, blew across her flawless face. The atmosphere was nothing but perfect with
butterflies fluttering about behind the chattering of the red spaniels hidden
in the trees. Towards the left were a
few evergreen trees and beyond it was a soothing sight of the rising sun at the
peaches and crème colored horizon. In
front of the trees were beds of flourishing corn; it filled the air around it
with a sweet delicious scent. Towards
the right were the fields. The
children, still in their pajamas, by their side, were stroking away their manes
and trying to climb over them. She
descended on the grass that was wet with the early morning dew. She walked on the straight path with gravel
below her slippers. And as she walked,
she was swallowed in the lingering haze.