Post by Icor on Nov 7, 2008 22:27:56 GMT -4
“Do we have to dig today?”
Loren murmured as he gummed his oats. “Yes. Every day.”
“I don’t want to”, replied Loren’s young daughter as she picked at her oatmeal. Her head barely poked up above the table, despite being elevated by three large books. The sun was pink and fresh, stretching through the two windows framing the front door of the large one room cottage.
Loren swallowed and took a drink of milk. There was a pause, and he watched his brunet daughter and her downcast green eyes.
“Tell you what. I’ll go to grandpa early today. When I go there, you can pick clovers for the stew tonight. After that, you don’t have to dig at all.”
The little girl seemed electrified by the deal, sprouting up like a tightly wound spring. “Yes, yes! Deal!”, she said, still bouncing, “Hey dad?”
“Hey Cassie?” Loren replied, trying to throw the six-year-old off. It worked, but only for a few seconds.
“Can I get red clovers this time?” she asked, slightly nervous about the question. Loren shook his head at the same time he downed the rest of his milk. “Nope. Not for cooking and eating,” he replied. Somehow, Cassie found this to be rather disappointing. She stared over at her father and his short, messy locks of dusty blond hair.
“Why come?” Cassie blurted. Loren folded his arms on top of one another on the table after shoving the empty bowl of oats out of the way. There was a pause while a smile grew on his face, and he reached out and ruffled his daughter’s hair, messing up the bed-head-dew even more.
“Go get your gloves and some water, honey. I’ll meet you outside, by the dirt pile.” Loren stood up, his chair gritting along the seemingly hollow wooden floor. He put on a pair of enormous, thick hide gloves and grabbed a sharp looking spade with a type of hook attached to its handle near the metal top. When he opened the door, morning light and air flooded the room, making Cassie’s eye lids very heavy for a moment. She left her bowl on the table and scurried to her corner of the cottage to grab things that belonged to her.
All the digging gear like gloves, boots, and shovels was covered in clay and mud. They never cleaned it off, so the floor of the cottage had become matted with a pale gray dust, dried dirt that had caked into the boards. Cassie jogged to the door and flung it opened. She cast her eyes on the orange country side. The sun was a spotted orb lingering beyond a tumultuous tree line that rose and fell over huge, foggy hills far in the distance. Despite the fogginess, there was incredible color in the autumn trees.
Loren was already in the dig hole. It was a flat-bottomed excavation site that had been dug with very precise calculation so that a cave in could simply not occur. There was even a mild appearance of earthen stairs leading down into the miniature abyss, child sized. Cassie was always proud of these stairs, for they were her creation. Most of her dig time was spent darting up and down them with a single hand full of dirt, which she would eventually deliver down to the brook and cast into the water.
“I made you a new basket”, said Loren as he pushed a small, dark weaved basket toward Cassie with his foot. She picked it up and turned it upside down. It was shaped like a plate with a very shallow rim, barely a bowl at all. The old one was sitting on the edge of the ditch, covered in the remnants of off-white, dried clay.
“Where is your bucket?” Loren asked, looking down passed his bicep at Cassie as he shoved his spade into the ground with his foot.
“I forgot it inside”, Cassie yawned. She punched a root that was sticking out from one of the walls.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think you need it, actually. Everything here is clay anyway. Don’t want to put clay in the bucket.”
Cassie marched in a circle, her tiny patched dress rolling on her calves. “Yes! Because water can’t escape the bucket back into the earth!” Loren laughed at his daughter’s tiny, yet very profoundly delivered assertion.
“How very clever you are. What weird person taught you that, anyway?” Loren asked giddily. Cassie pointed at her dad with a stiff smile that she tried desperately to hide.
“You!”
Loren murmured as he gummed his oats. “Yes. Every day.”
“I don’t want to”, replied Loren’s young daughter as she picked at her oatmeal. Her head barely poked up above the table, despite being elevated by three large books. The sun was pink and fresh, stretching through the two windows framing the front door of the large one room cottage.
Loren swallowed and took a drink of milk. There was a pause, and he watched his brunet daughter and her downcast green eyes.
“Tell you what. I’ll go to grandpa early today. When I go there, you can pick clovers for the stew tonight. After that, you don’t have to dig at all.”
The little girl seemed electrified by the deal, sprouting up like a tightly wound spring. “Yes, yes! Deal!”, she said, still bouncing, “Hey dad?”
“Hey Cassie?” Loren replied, trying to throw the six-year-old off. It worked, but only for a few seconds.
“Can I get red clovers this time?” she asked, slightly nervous about the question. Loren shook his head at the same time he downed the rest of his milk. “Nope. Not for cooking and eating,” he replied. Somehow, Cassie found this to be rather disappointing. She stared over at her father and his short, messy locks of dusty blond hair.
“Why come?” Cassie blurted. Loren folded his arms on top of one another on the table after shoving the empty bowl of oats out of the way. There was a pause while a smile grew on his face, and he reached out and ruffled his daughter’s hair, messing up the bed-head-dew even more.
“Go get your gloves and some water, honey. I’ll meet you outside, by the dirt pile.” Loren stood up, his chair gritting along the seemingly hollow wooden floor. He put on a pair of enormous, thick hide gloves and grabbed a sharp looking spade with a type of hook attached to its handle near the metal top. When he opened the door, morning light and air flooded the room, making Cassie’s eye lids very heavy for a moment. She left her bowl on the table and scurried to her corner of the cottage to grab things that belonged to her.
All the digging gear like gloves, boots, and shovels was covered in clay and mud. They never cleaned it off, so the floor of the cottage had become matted with a pale gray dust, dried dirt that had caked into the boards. Cassie jogged to the door and flung it opened. She cast her eyes on the orange country side. The sun was a spotted orb lingering beyond a tumultuous tree line that rose and fell over huge, foggy hills far in the distance. Despite the fogginess, there was incredible color in the autumn trees.
Loren was already in the dig hole. It was a flat-bottomed excavation site that had been dug with very precise calculation so that a cave in could simply not occur. There was even a mild appearance of earthen stairs leading down into the miniature abyss, child sized. Cassie was always proud of these stairs, for they were her creation. Most of her dig time was spent darting up and down them with a single hand full of dirt, which she would eventually deliver down to the brook and cast into the water.
“I made you a new basket”, said Loren as he pushed a small, dark weaved basket toward Cassie with his foot. She picked it up and turned it upside down. It was shaped like a plate with a very shallow rim, barely a bowl at all. The old one was sitting on the edge of the ditch, covered in the remnants of off-white, dried clay.
“Where is your bucket?” Loren asked, looking down passed his bicep at Cassie as he shoved his spade into the ground with his foot.
“I forgot it inside”, Cassie yawned. She punched a root that was sticking out from one of the walls.
“Don’t worry, I don’t think you need it, actually. Everything here is clay anyway. Don’t want to put clay in the bucket.”
Cassie marched in a circle, her tiny patched dress rolling on her calves. “Yes! Because water can’t escape the bucket back into the earth!” Loren laughed at his daughter’s tiny, yet very profoundly delivered assertion.
“How very clever you are. What weird person taught you that, anyway?” Loren asked giddily. Cassie pointed at her dad with a stiff smile that she tried desperately to hide.
“You!”