EDENVILLE

Bessie Hereford

By @naomimrshl

Bessie Hereford was content.   In fact, she fairly leaked contentment.   It was difficult for folks to spend any length of time round her still, calm ways without feel'n that all conditions had rested gratefully into their proper place.

While, as usual, utterly satisfied with her view from the kitchen sink window, Bessie, bent slightly at her waist, enjoyed the sensation of sudsy hot water lace'n round her hands as she washed up the last of the breakfast dishes.

Short shadows announced the mid-morn'n sunshine as the little, backyard orchard and garden came to life.

Bessie smiled as she spied a family of bunnies tumble out of the thistle patch that hugged an old pump. Birds, of every hue, swooped in to snatch up some millet or a sunflower seed from the feeder that proudly perched on a pole just to the right of a morning-glory covered bird bath.

While Bessie dried her hands, she paused for a minute to plan her morning.

The gentlemen from the consignment shop had said he would like to come take a look at her collection of creamers, and she had noticed some errant leaves littering her front path.

Swiftly, she decided to sweep first and then arrange her treasures in a pleasing display on her front veranda.

Swoop'n up her broom, and shooing Ancient Boo off the decorative, hand-painted raw milk cans, Bessie began to vigorously cause the fallen leaves to swirl and twirl in the breeze till she had gathered them together in a tidy pile beside the lane.

Ancient Boo watched her sweep from a low branch in the Catalpa tree that graced the  front picket fence, and both Bessie and Boo enjoyed the charming notes from the carillon tower in the next town over.

Bessie smiled up at her old friend as the familiar good feelings of sunlight and tune floated  to the top like cream over milk.

With a quiet chuckle, she turned and started to head back to her cottage and her collection of rare creamers.

Suddenly, the air cracked with a scream and the repeated warning of a rubber-ball bike horn.  Peering down the lane, toward Edenville, Bessie spied that awful rat catcher, run'n in circles, try'n to gather up what looked like flour, a man appeared to have been knocked off his bicycle, and the Constable was run'n in circles, trailing some sort of yellow kite tails and folks had begun to gather.

"Come, Boo, let's go in. Company will require our attention soon enough."