Another back-breaking day in the field, sighing, Chimera wipes the sweat off her brow and kneads the small of her back as she straightens painfully. A gentle breeze moves the corn and sends a small bird into the air, she watches it wheel and twist in the bright blueness of the sky before shouldering her hoe and heading back to her home. She nears the hedgerow and watches as a field mouse scurries for cover. She pulls a small sickle from her belt and spends some time gathering wild greens for her dinner tonight. She gets wild garlic, lovage and the tops of several root vegetables including beetroot, turnip and carrot. Once inside the wall surrounding her modest bungalow, she places her hoe in the garden shed and then rootles around in the greenhouse gathering some beans and peas, a courgette and a few tiny tomatoes. Her skill does not lie with growing things at all, but she is applying herself to her studies and hopes to improve. Why her mentor insists that she learns to listen to the music of life, she will never know, but nonetheless she spends long hours in the garden trying. Her problem is that she is too easily distracted, whenever she settles down to contemplate and meditate, thoughts enter into her head and she spends all of her time trying to unravel them or ignore them. Shaking her head as she thinks about her own folly, she pulls off her heavy workboots and slips on her soft indoor shoes. Whistling a jaunty little tune, she enters the kitchen and heaves the heavy cast-iron water-pot over the fire. Sitting at the roughly-made table, she cleans and prepares the vegetables and herbs for her stew. That task done, she adds them to the now boiling water over the fire. She wanders into the pantry and emerges with a jug of cool milk, a dish upon which lay a golden block of butter and under her arm is tucked a round loaf. A petite and sleek-looking form jumps up onto the window-ledge with a querying "Prrup?" Chuckling she strokes the furry form behind it's ears and is rewarded with a deep throaty rumble as the cat purrs loudly. Still stroking the animal with one hand, she grabs the milk jug with her other hand and sloshes some of it into a bowl.
"There you go Wimbleball, fresh milked today so it has got to be good"
The only sound she heard in reply was the soft lapping of a delicate pink tongue. Nodding, Chimera returns to preparing her own supper. This time of year was always busy, but bountiful, the colder months were always harder and leaner. For now though, she and the few animals who shared their lives with her, lived well off the land and had little need for outside help.
[RP]Stepping Out
Moderator: Community Team