Logs-Picking Flowers

Garden
The vibrant greens of spring are visible clearly here in this little garden.
New growths are visible everywhere one looks. Little stalks poke up and out
of the ground sending out small feelers. The garden is dotted with
wildflowers, spring up from the ground, and broadcasting purples, reds and
yellows to the world with a wholesome smell that announces summer is not far
off.

Obvious exits:
West leads to Stone Houses.
Up leads to South Row.

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Tue Feb 10 02:10:08 2004
Bree time: Late Morning <11:30 AM> on Trewsday of Spring - May 30,1431
Moon Phase: Waning Crescent Moon

Breelands Weather
The late morning spring air is cool but pleasant around you. A misty rain comes
down from the day sky.
===============================================================================

It is late morning- nearing lunchtime and rain is again pouring down from the
sky- blanketing Bree in dampness and a grim shroud of grey mist that
oftentimes comes with rain. Despite this, the air isn't overly cold (though
it is also far from being considered warm) and the flowers bow their heads to
the downpour while the sounds of drip-dripping from the leaves sounds
throughout the garden. It should be abandoned, due to the weather and yet, it
is not. Fussing about the vegetables is a rather robust lady- hood drawn up
over her head so that (for the moment) facial figures are relitively hidden.
Down she bends to inspect the vegetables growing there, and then, with a
thoughtful frown, she stands again and-with hands on her hips, she looks
around as though considering. Here stands Rebecca Tasselberry- surveying
vegetables in the rain.

The sound of a childish giggle drifts on the air - someone's spirits are
clearly undampened by the weather. "Does not!" a little girl's voice, and
moments later the speaker herself wriggles through a gap in the hedge. A grey
cloak protects Betsy's small form from the worst of the weather, but despite
it her two ginger pigtails are damp and dripping. In her muddy hand is
clutched a handful of purple and yellow crocuses. "See?" she turns to call in
the direction from whence she came. "It's easy. "Just - oh!" The exclamation
comes as she turns and catches sight of Rebecca. She shuffles her feet, guilt
scrawled plain across her reddening face.

Up looks Rebecca and instantly a frown crosses her already frown-creased face.
The hands don't move from her hips but her stance grows more imposing as she
casts that gaze upon Betsy. "What have you got there? Are those flowers
yours?" Something in her tone certainly suggests she doesn't think so, and
won't believe the girl if she says otherwise. Now she looks up- one eyebrow
raising in question. "And what are you doing out in the rain? You're sodden!
And who's that back there?! Someone else you're helping teach to make
trouble!?" Another scowl, and then she mutters something aboout 'Parents
letting their children out to cause trouble and steal people's flowers..'

"Of course they're mine! I picked them." Betsy's head tilts to look innocently
up at Rebecca, the child blinking every now and then as a raindrop hits her
upturned face. "And I can't help being damp, when it keeps raining. We were
out playing until it's time for dinner. What are you doing out in the rain
and all wet like that? I didn't think grownups played." Her brown eyes are
bright with curiosity, though not as bright as the splash of colour that is
the little bouquet of crocuses.

Her companion on the other side of the hedge, whoever he or she may be, wisely
remains silent save for a faint shuffling.

"Oh.." Perhaps this is as much of an appologegy as Betsy is going to get of
Rebecca, for certainly she looks as innocent as.. well, Megan.. And Megan has
succesfully managed to get away with making trouble for the last 18 years of
her life, and certainly this child is better behaved than her... "Well you
should be inside, near a fire, and keeping dry.." she advises, looking the
child up and down momentarily.. "I was out finding some vegetables. For
dinner. I'm not playing," she corrects, a motherly smile now appearing on her
face... A hesitant pause as she now glances briefly to the hedge, before back
to the flowers and Betsy again.. "They're lovely flowers.. did you grow them
yourself?"

Betsy beams back up at Rebecca, then shakes her head, sending raindrops flying.
"Oh, it /is/ wet," she exclaims at that, perhaps trying to divert the woman's
attention away from the flowers (which of course are no different any others
in this garden). "No," she confesses to that last question, then rushes on,
"I'm going to give them to Mama. She's so busy these days, always rushing
around and baking things - I think she's practising for the dance, you know.
/Everyone's/ making food for that. But it's /ages/ away still!" She pouts
forlornly. "Are you a good cook? Maybe you can make something with vegetables
for the dance thing - 'cept they won't keep. Johnny and I once tried to store
a pumpkin, and it went all rotten and stinky."

"It is wet indeed. You should be inside somewhere dry..." Rebecca scolds-
though so taken is she at Betsy's innocence (and perhaps a reminder of
Megan's younger days).. "Well, that's nice to think of your Mother and about
all the work she's doing! And I'm busy baking things for the Dance too, but
Megan doesn't bring me flowers..." Though there is a tiny hint of jealousy in
her voice, she covers it up with another motherly smile. "Well, I don't know
much about storing pumpkins, but I know plenty about cooking vegetables.."

Betsy's mouth falls wide open at one particular statement. "You're Megan's
mama? But that would mean you're /old/, like granda! Megan's all grown-up now
... I mean ..." The words trail off as the child realizes that perhaps wasn't
the best thing to say, and she stares down at her bedraggled-looking flowers
for a moment - then inspiration strikes. "I don't think you look that old,"
she volunteers, tilting her head on one side - after all, don't grownups all
like to pretend they're younger? "Not at all. Even if you know all about
cooking vegetables. Can you teach me and Johnny to cook vegetables too? We
can make something for the grownups - they'd be so surprised!"

From behind the hedge comes a strangled-sounding cough at this point.
"Yes, I'm Megan's--" Of course, Rebecca is cut off at Besty's comment about
being old and momentarily falls into a startled silence. "Well, I don't think
I'm as old as your grandda, at least.." she replies with a frown.. though, as
Betsy redeems herself, Rebecca beams- those frown-lines across her forehead
being twisted and changed as though it were an effort to smile any more..
"Well, thank-you for thinking that, Betsy, but I'm certainly not as young as
I used to be.. But I could teach you to cook if you'd like! I'm sure the
grownups would love it! And Anna doesn't need me to teach her any more, and
Megan's moved out of home- I've no one left to teach as it is..." A pause now
as the cough comes from behind the hedge, and that smile sinks again into a
frown. "Maybe your friend would like to come out of hiding?"

The friend doesn't come out of hiding, but does at least speak. A boy's voice
rises from behind the hedge: "I ain't hiding, only waiting. Time Betsy an' me
was getting back." And when there's no response to that statement, he adds
hurriedly, "Just remembered, got an errand to run. See you later, Betsy?" An
untidy-looking lad of about Betsy's age rises to his feet on the other side
of the hedge and takes off as though the baker's dog were at his heels.

Or just the vegetable cooks? Betsy gives a little "Oh!" of disappointment, then
looks back to Rebecca and suggests, "If Johnny's busy with errands and stuff,
maybe you can teach me and then I can teach Johnny? I'm a very quick learner
- I'm Betsy, by the way. Pleased to meet you, Megan's Mother." Graciously she
holds out a hand, fortunately not the muddy one that's clutching the flowers.

Perhaps the boy's words have sparked off some memory in Rebecca's mind, for,
after he has gone, she stands a long time just thinking- as if trying to
recall something hidden beneath layers and layers of.. "Oh! Cooking, now?!
Well, I'm sure you're a quick learner, Betsy but... Errands! That's what it
was! I'm Rebecca Tasselberry," she says too, by way of introduction- reaching
out her own hand and unaware of the mud that resides on Betsy's own. "I'll
teach you another time I'm afraid; I've yet to get back and make this food,
and.. well, you know how impatient and moody people can get on empty
stomachs..." A pause as she drawns back the hand with a light frown- wiping
the mud on her apron. "Nice to meet you, Betsy. Come pop by Megan's old house
when you want to learn," she says- though perhaps regrets the invitation the
moment it's left her lips. A moment later and she's turning, and beginning to
bustle her way out of the garden- waving a hand to Betsy before she's gone.

Betsy seems undaunted by the stream of words. "Nice to meet you, Mrs
Tasselberry," she repeats, bobbing her head at this second greeting. "And I
do want to learn, honest - maybe tomorrow? Except that I'm supposed to be
helping granda with his shopping and stuff, and then there's school, and ...
I could come the day after tomorrow?" By now Rebecca is of course bustling
away. "Byebye!" Betsy calls after the woman, lifting a hand to wave her
farewell and sending petals flying in all directions. The flowers she's
holding are now looking decidedly the worse for wear ... "Oh," the child
murmurs disconsolately. "That's a pity ... and Johnny didn't even wait. Well,
guess I'll just have to get some more all by myself." Grinning happily, she
heads in the direction of the flowerbeds.