Showing posts with label parks. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parks. Show all posts

Friday, 7 March 2014

The Folks Next Door (part three)


“Goedemorgen, Claudine!” Verena hurried over to the young mother who was strolling down a wooded path near their town home. “May I take a peek at your baby? Hallo Jans, did I wake you up? What a sweet little boy you are!” She sighed happily and looked around. “What a perfectly lovely day to be out for a walk. Aren't spring days beautiful?”
Claudine nodded. “ Pieter and Nicholaes do not play too far from the path. We need to go home after awhile to make supper for your father.”
“Where is Margriete?” Verena asked while she was making silly facial expressions to get the rosy cheeked lad to giggle.
“Over yonder,” Claudine pointed. “She is gathering an armful of flowers to fill our rooms with.”
“Meenen is such a pretty little town.”
Claudine fell silent. At least it doesn't have a dungeon like Ypres does. She suddenly felt cold and it had nothing to do with the stirring of a summer-like breese. How I would hate to be confined to a dark prison cell when the air is so fresh and there are all kinds of interesting things to do. She felt her grip tighten around the baby's small form. Verena didn't notice Claudine's change of mood. She was already rushing back to chat with Margriete.
“Mama!” Pieter called. “May I hold Jans please?”
Claudine handed the baby to his brother who promptly sat down in the grass and entertained him by tickling his face with a daisy.
What happy, sweet children I have, and such a good husband. Why then am I feeling cast-down in my soul, all of a sudden? Claudine started singing and the rich, pure tones filled the air with a rare beauty.
Claudine had a good soup cooking by the time Piersom entered the door. Claudine quirked her eyebrows. He didn't bound in with his usual boisterous good humor.
Piersom motioned for her to step outside.
“Margariete, you can start feeding Jans. He's so hungry after all that fresh air this afternoon. Yes, Piersom?”
Her husband closed the door behind Claudine before speaking. Then he laid his hands on her shoulders and looked deep into her warm, brown eyes. “ Hendric matched my step as I was returning home from work.”
Claudine nodded. Why such a sober look?
“Titelmannus is out and about.”
“Who is he?” Why did I whisper?
“The Dean of Ronse.”
When his wife still wore a blank expression, Piersom continued, “The Inquisitor. A pious councillor warned me to flee. I will hide in yonder woods.”
“Could you not pause to sup with us? You must be tired after such a long day.”
“Nay, I must hasten. He may have rounded up the bailiffs already to come and fetch me.” He turned to go, then paused. “You come, to, Claudine. They may be after you as well.”
Claudine knew the danger they were in. “I will fetch the baby, but you go! Go! Don't wait for me! I'll be but a moment later.”

“Where's Papa?”
“Why doesn't Papa come in for supper? I am hungry!”
“Papa and I are going for a little walk. Go ahead and eat. Pieter, you can lead in prayer. Hallo Janzie! My what a sopping wet baby! Did he eat much?”
Margariete nodded. “Everything that I mashed up for him.”
Claudine quickly and deftly changed the baby's sodden garments then hurried out the door.
She saw a ragtag, but determined looking bunch of men heading down the street so ducked into the woods and quickened her pace.

Page 737
Claudine de Vettre

MARTYRS MIRROR  

Monday, 2 December 2013

A Walk Down Memory's Lane

I was looking forward to visiting my childhood home once again. I suppose many of us have nostalgic memories of the place we grew up at. Sure, as the childhood innocence fades, we realize more and more that there was bad mixed in with the good, but time tends to mellow a lot of that. 
Walking through the Evergreen Park was a daily ritual on school days while I was growing up, and when my husband stopped at the entrance, I impulsively asked if he would mind if I strolled down that old familiar trail. He good naturedly obliged and off I went. This vast, lush green park was like an oasis in the prairie setting we lived in, and it was a pleasure to get to walk through this area before reaching the business section of town and later where the schools were located. This time I was doing this trip in reverse, and my heart was lilting a silent melody as I strolled down Memory’s Lane.
A short ways past the edge of the park we children often had to wait for the train to go past while going home for our noon meal. It was so much fun waving to the conductor in his gray and white striped hat and matching coveralls, because he would respond just as enthusiastically. (Wonder where he is now?)
As I walked, the serene yet lonesome cry of the train whistle could be heard in the distance. This, to, was a familiar sound and as I drew nearer the sound increased in volume. I wish I could describe my feelings as I saw that train rumbling into view. Soon it reached from one horizon to the other while the sun was slowly going down in the far west. I stood there, just a tiny figure in comparison, looking on. 
There was something symbolic about this memory; something powerful that I am trying to analyse. The train separated me from my childhood, as it were, since our house was on the other side. Was it carrying away all the ‘garbage’ from my past to a place far out of sight? Was it carrying me into a future long and bright with promise? I am not sure, but I found the experience moving. 


+Trains +Memories +Parks
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