A Lady Lives Here In The Woods

 Kind lady, she is going a-mushrooming. A bit of a basket of green she carries. Once, ornate, it was for festive eggs.  Now it is her work basket.

Her wee stumpy housie of many windows, she leaves.  A mighty mighty tree it was, until she came a-building.  Many hands made bright work, and a castle it is. Inside are cleaver cunning cupboards and closets. A kitchen is looking from a window into the forest. Chairs and tables are wooden. There are rugs and curtains. There are pretty dishes and even a small striped cat.

She is a little bit Zion, and a little bit Holy Ghost.  She has both feet on the ground.

It is a fall-ish day. She is armed with the pretty Rossi, against all brigands and ferocious beasties.

Some mushrooms are of the fall, and some are of the springtime.  Here it is fall. The air is cool and damp under the trees.  Still a lot of green up high. Some birds are looking.

A path has been since the Red man walked it.  Around hills it goes, worn old.  It takes the easiest route.  Children and mothers have walked here. It is gentle.

Many a brushy hummock. Clover. Ferns. Grass.  A clever little black bear is there walking, but the Spirit says walk this way away.  Berries in a clearing this way!

Away way down beside a creek bed she is seeing some brown mushrooms revealed in streaks of sunlight. She is seeing the dust motes dancing. It is silent there in the forest air.  She is beginning her work.  Her blond hair is falling in her eyes a bit.

Our lady is cutting mushrooms for the green basket.  She has many.  Brown and round they are tumbling in.  Saute'd in butter and eaten with brown rice, their fate.

A bear is a sometime thing.  Sometimes there is a bear and sometime there is not a bear.  A bear can make mistakes.  Sometimes he gets his wires crossed.

Our lady is walking back the way she came.  She is following the old old path to the home tree. The sun is weakening. The day is getting old. A basket full is with her and happiness. Pretty Rossi is heavy in her pocket.

She is regarding the steps to her wooden door.  A sly black bear is there sitting. He is hungry and lazy. His brown eyes are looking at the lady with interest.  He is sitting between her and all of home!

Suddenly she is pulling out the lady's pistol and firing three times into the darkening air.  The noise is shocking. Bear is scampering to the safety of the deep forest. He is forgetting an easy picnic!  He is a black shape rapidly disappearing.

Ah, our lady is happy to step up the steps and open up her door! All is well that ends well. And so it is, so it is.

the end

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