Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Camilia's Tea Pot

In the dream the plain metal kettle looked heavy, fit for a hefty cook used to lifting kitchenware filled to capacity. She recognized it without hesitation from a bit of Two Fat Ladies' history and found to her delight that the dream makers had colored it yellow. The kettle that is. The gathering of folk for whom this kettle had been set to boil were strangers, but it was her son, as familiar as the palms of her hands, that lifted the heavy steaming source off the burner pulled the stopper out and caught his mother's attention with a signature eye-catching glance: left her a message her son did.

"Do you suppose," began Resident Mouse, "her son was giving his mother the message to let off some of that steam she's built up?" The tiny mouse was very young, not much older than newly born and innocent of any restraining attitudes about being delicate when talking about Others. Being an orphan, Resident Mouse spoke into the air as if it was his companion and confidante for in truth Air was his company. Well, if we're really being truthful here the thing that happens with mice, especially ones as young as Resident Mouse, is they have an open channel an uncluttered corridor to Mouse Woman The Mouse Woman who is the Grand GuGa of these parts. The tiniest and the greatest of all busybodies Mouse Woman is most attached to the young. So, in addition to Air Resident Mouse's musings were being monitored by MW herself.

There was little chance young Resident Mouse could have known that this winter was the harshest winter yet. Before his mother was caught for a winter snack by the owl, she had left him with a cozy home among the stored fabric scraps and worn out sweat pants. In time that cozy home was meant to be used for patches and embroidered ornamentation. But as they say, it made no never mind to Resident Mouse and his Mother. They had no notion of patches or embroidery. Hmmm, or did they?

The Air and Mouse Woman collaborated on their answer for Resident Mouse appreciating the young man's sensitivity. From her corner just inside the threshold between her realm and that of the mundane, Mouse Woman said, "I believe you are on to something. The woman does have a bit of steam pent up, and the man is stretched to paper thin." She felt sure this young mouse had come with a gift for dealing with Others. Though she did not let herself be seen Resident Mouse felt the affirming overture, took a deep gulp of evening Air and waited for the man who set out pumpkin seeds and a raisin each night.

Who is this man who sets out food for mice?

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