One bowl, one spoon, one cup. Adela nestled them carefully into the hollowed hole atop her knife, and a thin wool blanket. These were the luxuries she allowed herself. It was all that would fit into the abandoned woodpecker hole half way up the old oak.

It was a lucky day last spring when she spied what looked like a communal squirrel nest about thirty feet off the ground in a corner of the county park. She’d been wondering what she’d do. Other desperate folk seemed risky to befriend. She’d been trying to stay out of their way, fending for herself, by herself for almost nine months.

So the nest looked like a likely bed, away from the riffraff and foul talk on the streets. Turned out, it was great! After chattering at her for two straight days, the extended family of squirrels had given up chasing her off. Now, they all snuggled up together, sharing body heat, and topped off with her blanket when nights got cool.

Adela climbed down the tree, careful of the leafless cracking limbs near the bottom. She shimmied the trunk as best she could, grateful for old knots that provided a foot or hand hold occasionally.

The church bell across town sounded. So it was Sunday, Adela realized. Sunday dinner time for townsfolk. She might eat well today, and find something she could bring home to the squirrels.

*****

“That’s a cute child,” a balding man pointed toward Adela, who leaned over to pick a dandelion puffball. She watched the couple from the corner of her eye, and smiled at the wispy seeds before blowing and waving her hands wildly dispersing the seeds. She skipped closer to the picnic table, catching sight of bulging paper bags. The man lifted one up in the air and turned it over, ziplock bags of sandwiches spilling over the table.

Just for a minute, Adela forgot her child ruse as she gaped open-mouthed at the food. She snapped her lips shut, as she remembered where and who she was. She turned away, running toward the parking lot.

Usually that threw people off. When you run toward a parking lot, you look like you are going to your car.

She neared the carpark’s public restroom building, and turned a corner. Out of sight.

After a long drink at the water fountain, using the facilities, and washing up (which she did every chance she got even though the commercial soap was rough over skin) she walked “with purpose” around the overfilled trash cans to a small gazebo within sight of the picnic area.

The couple seemed to be finished eating. They packed up their bag with paper towels, water bottles, and plastic containers… but unpacked more sandwiches. The taller one stacked them carefully, before he turned to the bald one, saying something she couldn’t hear.

They didn’t look at her as they got into their car. Adela stayed where she was, tucked into the gazebo, still as a statue, until the car was completely gone.

Sprinting to the table, her hands flew over the small bags of food. She had thought they were all sandwiches, but there were also bags of small carrots, raisins, and walnuts. Her heart beat wildly, realizing that she must have been discovered, but also with gratitude for the kind gift of food.

Her mouth watered as she tore open three sandwich bags. Two were ham and cheese and one was peanut butter and jelly. She hadn’t even noticed that there were different kinds!

After devouring the sandwiches, and able to think more clearly, she sorted the ones that were left. Eight more sandwiches! Two more ham and the rest peanut butter. Those men must have brought extra sandwiches. For her? They knew? Was that dangerous, or would they help her?

She needed to get this food to the tree. She’d share it with the squirrels, who shared their nest and food with her.

Getting it there was not going to be easy. She could go back for her blanket. Leaving food on the table unattended wouldn’t be the best idea though, as the old park caretaker would likely be making her rounds soon. The overflowing trash cans near the restrooms indicated she was late.

Other picnicking families might come and dispose of trash to clear tables.

Starlings were gathering, some already becoming bold. One landed nearby. She shooed it away.

Hurriedly, she stuffed the raisins, nuts, and carrots into her pant’s pockets. If only she had a huge pocket for the sandwiches!

The sun was hot. Adela flapped the neck of her shirt to cool her chest. She looked down at her t-shirt… The t-shirt! It could carry a lot of food. She often carried nuts, berries, and mushrooms in it when she was in the woods. But, she couldn’t very well take it off right here in the park.

But, she could make a pocket! She tied the loose bottom of her shirt into a knot at the side and dropped the sandwiches down the neck hole.

All that plastic next to her skin made her even hotter. Never mind that.

Clambering up the tree was a bit harder, as she held her body away from the trunk, to avoid squishing the sandwiches. Soon she was pulling her belongings out of the hollow in the tree, to fill it with her food. That left them in the nest, which was a precarious place especially for the cup and bowl, but she tucked them as securely as she could between sturdier branches and the trunk. This food wouldn’t last more than a couple of days for the hungry squirrels, and then she could store her things in the hollow again.

“Chit, chit, chit, chit!” The tail of the largest squirrel brother pumped wildly with excitement when he entered the nest. Her squirrel family responded to his call and leapt up the tree. Adela opened half of the peanut butter sandwiches. She tore them into small pieces and handed them out as evenly as she could. Squirrels perched on her lap, shoulders, and head, munching pieces of sandwiches. A chuckle bubbled up from her belly as she watched their little hands holding sandwiches, and their teeth tearing bites from the peanut butter and bread. How she loved her adoptive family!

Though she knew she had more, Adela sat with her back covering the hollow containing the food stash. She’d bring out more tomorrow.

This night, they settled. All bellies were full. Tomorrow, there was going to be food. It was as far ahead as Adela could consider, though she did have hope the kind couple would return.

One day at a time.

Rose Alice White

May 3, 2026

“That’s it.” Rose slowly got up, dusted off her knees, and set the last pot of red flowers in her wagon. Wonder flew over the blooms kissing each one, her tiny lips leaving golden fairy dust shimmering on the petals.

“There. That makes sure they can’t forget us.” The sweet high voice of Wonder had a touch of wistful satisfaction.

“I think you got them all.” Rose smiled at her pixie. “Those moving from Millcreek Village will be reminded of their friends. It’s going to be different, without everyone here.”

“Let’s take this last load to the crossroads. The flowers we took yesterday disappeared quickly. Guess that means several folks have already left.”

******

Upon her return from the crossroads, Rose winced at the empty spaces where she had lifted the plants. “Wonder?” she called, “Didn’t the garden used to fill in? These holes are just sitting here, like they are waiting…” She knelt down, and felt the grass beneath her hand, then sifted dark soil from one hole through her fingers. “Nothing is happening. I don’t feel anything. No pulse of energy. No vibration.”

Gliding over to sit on Rose’s shoulder, Wonder tilted her head. “Maybe you need to plant something else. I don’t think another color though. Red suits this place… How about tomatoes?”

Rose turned to look at Wonder. “Could be…” she considered. “I could give that a try. I don’t like these empty holes.”

“Do you think I brought tomato seeds? It seems so long ago that we came to Millcreek. Guess I could go look in that back room.”

She shook her head slowly. “Hadn’t thought about that room since we got here.” She walked into her house and headed toward the room that contained the grow lights and seed trays that she had been so excited about when she had arrived. That room was now her store room.

She opened the door, and her fishing rods fell toward her. “Oh!”, she exclaimed, rubbing her cheek. “These should have better storage.” She smiled, thinking of days spent fishing at the lake.

Hand over hand, Rose pulled out rods, the cooler, various accumulated ropes and bungees, a box of saved Millcreek Gazette papers, old contracts, mismatched shoes, and things she had never needed in Millcreek such as umbrellas, a raincoat, winter coat, and boots. Finally, she reached the planting supplies. Where was the old tin box of seeds?

Wonder flew in as soon as there was space enough for her wings. She flitted around, inspecting corners and high shelves. Rose stood in the cleared doorway watching her. Wonder would find them.

“Here!” Wonder’s high tinkling voice rang out near the ceiling. Rose followed her pointing finger… and there it was!

Standing on a chair, Rose pulled the round purple tin down from the top shelf. Setting it on the table, she closed her eyes, remembering her old little house and garden, back in the woods near the bubbling stream. As her fingers worked the top loose, a whiff of dry dirt from her old life caused her to inhale deeply.

Back then, she only saw people if she went in town to the market. Now, she had neighbors, went to parties, and could chat with a friend over a cup of coffee. Rose didn’t yearn for her old life, but she did miss it.

I grew my own vegetables back then, and perhaps I will here too, she thought. She turned her attention to the contents of the tin.

Seeds. Flower seeds. Vinca, marigolds, zinnias, snapdragon, celosia… some of those seeds were smaller than the grains of sand of the beach… Were there only flower seeds?

Her fingers pulled tightly-wedged packets loose. Under brilliantly colored packets of flowers seeds, at the very bottom, were two large packets of vegetable seeds. Brandywine tomatoes and Ruby Queen beets. Her favorites.

Tomatoes and beets. Those would do very nicely, and fit in with the color scheme of her yard. Handy, that.

Studying the seed packets, she left the back room. Her feet got tangled in fishing line before she remembered the clutter. She grabbed wildly for the cooler to steady herself as she tumbled, but only succeeded in pulling it on top of her chest.

“Ooomph! Oww!”

After a minute to collect her wits, Rose shook off the cooler.. She rubbed her shoulder, then her hip, as she disentangled herself from nylon fishing line. She heard a twittering laugh from near the ceiling.

“Hee hee! You didn’t look where you were going. That was spectacular!” Wonder giggled.

Rose smiled up at her little friend. “Should have. Lucky for me, the cooler is empty, and the coats kept me from hitting too hard. Best get this mess cleared up.”

As she organized the clutter into specific areas of the back room, Rose considered the newly empty holes in the garden. When she cut flowers, more had always reappeared. Even when she had accidentally pulled the trellis off the side of the house, breaking the flowering bushes under it, the trellis reappeared the next day, and the bushes were unaffected.

She’d come to expect regeneration as normal. But this time, there were empty holes in her garden.

Why, she asked herself. She had no answer.

Wonder said this gives me a chance to grow tomatoes. That’s true. And beets. Beets have tasty green leaves, as well as sweet roots. And… didn’t she have a couple of red onions in her cupboard that had started to sprout? She’d plant those too. Why not? They could grow, mature, and make seeds, so there would be more onions in the future.

You know, I just might grow enough to share. I could invite the community to a you-pick at my house. No! I don’t want everyone trampling the yard…

Maybe, I could have a small stand in the park.

Or, one of the cafes might like to use Millcreek grown tomatoes.

Or, I could share seeds.

Or… maybe Millcreek Village would like a community garden. There’s garden space out by the stables… Would her neighbors like that?

Excited by multiple possibilities, Rose took her seeds and trowel into her garden, and filled in the holes with tomatoes, beets, and a couple onions.

The Pedindorf Foote Centre specializes in foot donations and attachments. Our records indicate you are eligible to donate a foot.

Last year, 24 individuals donated to the center and received an adjustable-height hardwood crutch as a free gift.

Last year’s donors are qualified to receive a foot this year. Contact the centre to acquire necessary paperwork.

This season we aspire to receive 48 donated feet, double last year’s intake.

Each donor will receive a hand-carved peg, with a supportive rubber tip. The artisan wooden peg can be upgraded to an attractive titanium peg for a small fee.

I hope you will consider assisting us in attaining this year’s goal.

The surest way to be able to get a foot when you need it, is to give one today!

All we need is your foot.

Sincerely,

The Pedindorf Foote Centre

“Where we put your best foot forward.”

Rose Alice White

April 19, 2026

‘Bait! Come in!’

Dougie did.

He gazed out the shop window at the placid sea. “Which rod will attract the big fish?”

Dennett shrugged, “The Pro rod should do it. Just sway over the side of the boat.” He fingered a red hat. “You look the type to allure the biggest one out there.”

With a new rod, a bucket of brined crabs, and red hat, Dougie followed Dennett to a small battered dinghy.

Dennett helped him set off, then picked up binoculars…

waiting…

watching…

“Yee-haw! I knew Goliath’d come!

Guess I’d better go fetch the dinghy.”

Rose Alice White

April 14, 2026

It hadn’t rained since everyone moved into Millcreek four weeks earlier. No one seemed concerned about the weather… except that Rose knew her flowers would need to be watered soon. She promised herself she’d think about that after the Lantern Festival. She decorated her mailbox in red streamers, and put up posters in public areas, as requested by Millcreek Management. A few times that afternoon, she felt uneasy about releasing fire in lanterns in a town where it didn’t rain, but every time she thought to mention it, she was given another task.

Finally, the Millcreek Village Lantern Festival began. Everyone was there. Whether attendance was mandatory, expected, or simply because it was a spectacular event didn’t seem to matter.

The grand lantern release was to be at the end of the evening. As instructed, Rose wrote her wish into a lantern. Clasping her hands tightly in hope, she watched it rise into the dark sky with dozens of others. All those gorgeous red lanterns, floating upward… beautiful!

The whole village held its breath as the lanterns went up. They seemed to cluster just below the fog, looking like enlarging clumps of red blooms, seemingly stalled. One, then another, caught fire, blazing brightly. She heard delighted whispers as the lanterns caught fire, the rain of sparkling ash twinkling out as it fell. So magical! The lantern fire dissipated the mist that surrounded the village.

With the fog gone, a signpost became visible. A signpost with five wonderful directions, five new places to go:

Fire & Ice Falls

Moonlight Beach

Story Ville

Sand Star Village

Cathedral Valley

Off in the directions of the signpost arrows, distant lights twinkled. She heard them whispering, calling… “Discovery,” “Romance,” “Adventure,” “Excitement,” “Treasure”.

We were free to leave! If newness and challenge were what we wanted…

Rose’s wish was for community and belonging. A community that accepted her in spite of her awkward eagerness and silly ideas. She knew her heart was in the right place. She loved cheering for others and wanted to live in community that appreciated and needed what she could give.

She could be depended on to be truthful, except for one thing. She claimed she was turning 50, but that wasn’t true. She was turning 70. She just didn’t want folks reeling from that fact. When you are 50, you have decades ahead of you. Not so much at 70. Folks didn’t need to know the truth.

At her age, she didn’t want to move again. No need really. Her small house had room for guests… if any came. Come to think of it, there weren’t many visitors to Millcreek. There were events, the occasional celebration or party, but few guests. But Lillian, her 11-year-old youngest granddaughter, might come for the summer.

Lillian would love the fruit smoothies and twisting slide at Edgeworks, the dragons next door, and the growing sea dragon across the street. She’d watch for Rodney to sit in a rocker on his front porch. They’d rock and talk for hours. The art studio would call to her, and the stables… Rose smiled remembering how Lillian loved horseback riding. They had gone on a long trail ride together last year. Lillian didn’t want to return home after that. Yes, she’d love the stables.

Lillian would likely be tending the community chickens, swimming in the lake, hanging out at the Brick, searching the beach with Sorin, drinking tea with the Mushroom Queen, learning herb lore with the bog witch, and absolutely delight in the bright colors and sparkles of life above the pre-k. She’d want to spend hours at the library, and play in the park with neighborhood cats and dogs. Even the ghosts and mysteries of the village would entrance her. Rose could imagine a summer of fun with Lillian here!

She couldn’t wait until Lillian arrived!

Yes, Rose would stay. She knew she would.

Rose’s heart fell as she realized many of her neighbors would be leaving. Would that turn Millcreek Village into a ghost town? Empty houses. Dark windows. The gym and library silent. Streets and sidewalks becoming dusty.

“Stop that,” she told herself. Rose knew she mustn’t think that way! What an opportunity it was for her friends and neighbors to explore the world! She needed to think of how happy it would make them to move on, to leave this tiny place and find new opportunities.

“Ok,” Rose wiped a few tears that wouldn’t stay in her full eyes. She would help them go. Remembering how she had welcomed everyone with bouquets of red flowers when they all first arrived, she thought flowers might be a good going away gift. She could dig up some of her flowers and pot them, ready for transport. The new places her friends went would have a bit of Millcreek with them.

And… maybe she’d go visiting, she thought with a smile. If she could see their twinkling lights, they weren’t too far to visit.

It was time to get ready for big going-away events and quiet departures. She could, and would, do that!

She would begin by collecting pots for the flowers.

“She’s here! SHE’S HERE!”

Rose stopped pulling the wagon to look up at Wonder. Her little brown pixie was flying circles over her head. It made Rose slightly dizzy to look at her.

“What? Wonder, who’s here?” Rose asked.

“The sea dragon, baby Ksaeirruphim. She’s here! Look!” Wonder pointed at the wagon. Atop a huge wagon load of fish was Ksaeirruphim. Rose had just caught them in Millcreek Lake to take to Iris, to portion them out as needed for the baby sea dragon.

One of the smaller fish dangled half out of her mouth. She gave a chirrip, and appeared to give a cheeky wave. The self-satisfied look on her face as she chewed and swallowed before selecting another fish, indicated she was indeed quite pleased with herself. She’d found DINNER, and plenty!

“Whoa, little gal, you are going to get a bellyache at that rate.” Rose told her.

Her beautiful purple eyes looked into Rose’s for a minute, perhaps gauging if Rose could stop her feasting. Then she threw back her head, gave a hearty “Chirp, chirp!” and settled back into eating.

“Meow.” A hopeful sound behind the wagon, was answered by another “Meow.” From off to the side came “Mmmmurrrr” in a warning cadence.

Concerned, Rose peered behind the fish piled wagon. She spotted the grey and white tabby she’d seen in a sunny window at J.M. Gooding’s home, Daisy. Daisy padded silently behind the wagon, drawn to the irresistible smell of fish, but far enough away that she always walked in the sun, never in the shadow.

Beside Daisy was another grey and white tabby, this one with a white chest and white paws. He usually sat near the Art Studio, where the resident artist, Jonas Calderwood, called him Mr. Pickles. Mr. Pickles stared at the baby sea dragon, who unconcernedly tossed fish into her own mouth one after another.

Prowling to the side, behind, and occasionally in front of the wagon, making menacing noises at all of the company, was Nibbins the Cat. He was sleek, black, and way too good at not being seen. He’d slip behind the tabbies, disappear, circle, fade, and reappear.

The fish parade continued down the sidewalk, moving faster, now. The baby sea-dragon was unaware of the cats. She also was eating too much. Rose began to jog toward Iris’s house.

The sun was beginning to make the fresh catch of the day smell, well… less fresh. The increased fishy odor was making all the cats a bit bolder. They got closer until there was a mere two feet between the wagon and intent, watchful felines.

Hurry! Rose nearly ran down the cobblestones that looked so picturesque in photos. A fish bounced off the bumping wagon, the cats readied themselves to leap upon it. A black bird with multicolored striped wings, Stabbins, boldly thrust his pointed beak into it and rocketed back up into the sky with his prize.

The cats yowled in a chorus of frustration. Mr. Pickles made a dramatic leap after Stabbins, claws extended. His sharp claws raked empty air, with an audible whoosh. A black feather floated to the ground. The tabbies paused, watching the black bird fly away.

The black cat had disappeared again. “Where’s Nibbins?” Wonder called to Rose. A soft bump sounded in the wagon. Rose turned around to see the black cat atop the fish pile, just inches from Ksaeirruphim.

“No!” Rose gasped.

The baby dragon stopped chewing to look at the cat. She cocked her head to one side and then the other as she sized up the furry intruder. Nibbins reached out a black paw, and tapped the fish Ksaeirruphim held beneath her front feet. When the dragon didn’t move immediately, Nibbins tapped the fish again. “Murr-eow?” he asked.

This time, Ksaeirruphim took a step back, holding the fish out to the cat. Nibbins accepted the offer, biting into the fish, bending over the gift to devour it, tearing into it indelicately.

“Oh, gosh!” Rose uttered as she began urgently pulling the wagon as quickly as her tired legs could go. She couldn’t keep her eyes off the two on top of the fish.

“Whew! We’re nearly there!” she told herself.

Iris stepped out into the yard. Rose gestured for her to come quickly.

Iris, eyes wide, taking in the fish, the cats following the wagon, and her own Ksaeirruphim sitting inches from a fearsome beast, began gliding quickly towards them. “Ksaeirruphim!” she yelled.

As she got closer, skirts flapping and smelling of the sea, the cats behind the wagon paused. It took only a commanding “Shoo!” for Mr. Pickles to climb a nearby tree. He sat in a low branch, green eyes watching the fish wagon. Daisy retreated to the side of the house, then turned, grooming herself, glancing up frequently at the piles of potential dinner.

“Ksaeirruphim, down!” Iris ordered, pointing to the ground beside her.

Apparently, Ksaeirruphim didn’t want to get down. She stayed atop her hoard of fish.

Nibbins didn’t even turn in Iris’ direction. His sleek black fur shone in the sun as he sat back on his haunches. His green eyes watched Ksaeirruphim.

At that moment, Ksaeirruphim burped. A spray of wet fishy liquid escaped her mouth directly into Nibbins face. Startled, Nibbins shook himself, and jumped down from the wagon. He began cleaning his face and fur.

Iris’ arms enveloped her baby sea dragon, lifting her from the fish pile. “Bedtime for you!” she said to a relaxed and somewhat sleepy Ksaeirruphim. “Rose, I’ve got a tarp just inside the door. Would you grab that and cover these fish?”

Rose, speechless after all the tension and chaos, immediately moved to the door, grateful for Iris taking charge like that. Sure enough, when she opened the front door, a heavy blue tarp lay nearly folded just inside. She hauled it out and drug it to the wagon, where Iris stood holding Ksaeirruphim, now gently snoring in her arms. It took a few minutes to drape and tuck the tarp over the pile of fish, Iris supervising to ensure no fish were exposed.

Only after the fish was covered did Iris move to go inside. “Wait here,” she called to Rose, “I still don’t trust those cats. I’ll be back in a sec. I’ll get Ksaeirruphim settled in her bed.”

“I won’t move,” Rose assured her. “I don’t trust those cats a second either.”

Iris closed the door firmly behind her.

When she returned, she brought a small folding table, a kitchen scale, 2 serrated knives, several baskets, and lots of plastic bags.

The two chatted as they weighed and portioned the fish carefully, keeping their eyes on the cats, who had crept closer. The cats seemed to work as a team pouncing on scraps that fell during the process, so that there wasn’t much clean up afterward.

As Rose left to go home, pulling her empty wagon behind her, she called, “Next time I go fishing, perhaps you and Ksaeirruphim would come with me? She might like swimming in that lake. The two of us may be able to keep the cats at bay.”

“I’ll consider it. Thanks for the fish!” Iris walked inside, shutting the door.

Nibbins blinked. The day had gone well. He gave a sly toothy grin to his co-conspirators. Daisy and Mr. Pickles nodded agreement. All three watched Rose leave, then parted, Nibbins into the brush, the other two across the lawns.

*******

Rose lifted a garden fork full of coffee colored soil. Worms wriggled in the sudden daylight. She scanned the dirt for squirming tails.

“Gotcha!”. She thought of the tiny sea dragon next door as she pulled the wriggling earthworms free. Four worms dropped into her waiting bucket. She hurriedly snapped the screen lid on the bucket and patted the dirt back into place. She lifted another forkful, catching 3 more big ones. At this rate, it would just take about ten minutes before she had two dozen, and she’d be ready to set out for the lake with her fishing rod.

Maybe the sea dragon hatchling had a name by now, but Rose hadn’t heard. She just knew that fish would be needed to feed her… lots of fish. She’d be growing at an accelerated speed. She had to eat plenty to support that kind of growth. Plus, the hatchling was quite the wriggling escape artist. Rose wanted to be able to help lure her back home. To do that, she was going need fish.

It had been 35 years since she had gone fishing with her grandfather, but she remembered how to catch earthworms, put them on the hook, and how to use a fishing rod.

The one she found tucked into the back of the closet was substantial, a fiberglass surf rod, one for fishing from the shore. If that was the kind of rod most folks used in the lake, there could be some good sized fish there.

Ok, here goes, she thought. Maybe she’d meet up with some folks that know more about fishing than she did. If intention counted, she’d return home with a wagon full of fish for the freezer.

She checked her provisions. She had the rod and bait, and an empty cooler and thermos. She’d stop to get food for herself and Wonder for a day of fishing.

Getting to the beach wasn’t hard. Rose easily pulled her mostly empty wagon down the sidewalks, waving at neighbors as she passed.

She stopped in at Edgeworks, to fill up her thermos with iced tea and see what kind of sandwiches Dave had. She decided to hook up the cooler in a safety harness, before fitting herself into one and climbing carefully up to the cafe. Once she reached the top, it was easy to hoist up the cooler.

While the menu stated she should have ordered the sandwiches and snacks the day before, Dave was super accommodating. He fixed her up with a day’s worth full of healthy and tasty snacks, in addition to tea and egg salad sandwiches, packing them efficiently into her own cooler. He prepared some honey cakes, a couple blackberries, and a tiny bottle of milk for Wonder. She blew kisses to him from her position sitting on the tea containers.

A swirly slide under construction gleamed invitingly. Caution tape across it’s entrance warned that it wasn’t complete, and indeed, a closer inspection showed the bottom still above the floor. When finished, she’d be coming to play on the slide. Up the climbing wall, down the slide. Joy!

But for now, using a safety harness as a pulley, Rose lowered her provisions to the ground, then wearing one herself, scrambled down the climbing wall.

“Drop by and visit while I’m fishing if you get a chance. Bring a pole, if you’ve got one,” she called back up to him. “I’ve got plenty of snacks to share.” With a wink, Rose was off to fish, grinning broadly.

Astonished she hadn’t noticed before, several fishing stations were set up along the beach. She chose the first after a quick inspection of amenities. A huge shade umbrella, a cooler stand, a supportive and comfortable chair, a full lure case, a few fishing rods, a net for scooping fish out of the water, and something under the chair seat… a pair of waders?

How had she missed these well-appointed stations when she walked the lakeshore this past week. Had they always been there?

Could the beach be anticipating her needs… making itself useful?

Could it?

Rose Alice White

March 20, 2026

The Peacock Predicament

Something, or someone, sounded like a broken trumpet!

Rose scurried around the perimeter of the house searching for the source. First, she noticed the brilliant blue peacock. Then she noticed the trumpet vine flower stuck in his throat.

“Come here!” She tried to coax him near her so she could dislodge the amplification device from his beak.

He bellowed again, the trumpet sound of his own voice seeming to alarm him further.

“Wonder!” Rose called to her pixie companion, but she had wandered off to spy on a newly hatched sea dragon.

This was a problem!

Where were all those neighbors that moved in and then were everywhere, walking dogs, jogging, or calling over the street? Not a neighbor to be seen.

She’d have to tackle this bird herself.

Rounding the corner of the house, she watched him spread his wings and fly to her roof. There he strutted along the roof top, his bellows amplified up and down the deserted street.

Thank heavens there’s no one to see or hear, she thought, as she ran into the house, up the stairs and opened the window at the end of the spare bedroom. “If I climbed out and grabbed on to the roof…,” she thought.

The windowsill was just wide enough for standing on. But, she couldn’t reach the roof … until she realized the trellis for the trumpet vine reached nearly to the roof. It was just a foot away from the window. Her left foot stretched to the side… and landed on the trellis.

Shaking under her weight, the trellis bowed away from the wall. She slowed her movements to steady herself amongst the greenery and blossoms.

A blue head with a red trumpet vine flower beak ornament peered over the edge of the roof. “Ka-aan...ka-aan,” he warned, as Rose snagged a shingle with her left hand and hoisted herself up the last couple of feet. The trellis cracked as it unattached itself from the house and fell in complete splintered disarray. Broken trumpet vine covered the rose bushes.

That dang peacock scooted to the other side of the house. “Come on back here!” She demanded. He didn’t listen. She crawled after him as quickly as her too-long skirts would allow.

Rose began talking to herself, “This is getting ridiculous! Any minute now the Bedazzled school bus will be driving down the street, or the new rather proper gentleman across the street will look out his window, or a jogger will glance up to see what’s making that god-awful racket and see me up here on my roof crawling after a peacock. There might be talk!”

She glanced down at Forest Lane far below, and became a bit concerned.

Being up so high on the roof reminded her of Dave’s climbing wall. Perhaps she should have installed a climbing wall on the outside of her house. It would come in handy just about now, she realized.

This was a predicament! And what do you do when there is a predicament? Well… Rose laughed. A deep guffaw, and then full throated, only slightly hysterical, laughter.

Perhaps it was a sound as unusual as his own amplified bellows that attracted the peacock, but he actually came close… and closer. He tilted his blue head to the side in front of her face and looked Rose in the eye. She clutched his feathery body tightly and set him on her lap. Holding him down between a raised knee and one arm, she grabbed the offending flower from his beak and threw it to the ground.

The surprised peacock gave a start, and hopped off her lap. Flapping his wings, he flew to the ground, then took off again toward the woods, not looking back at all.

She had been hoping he’d thank her somehow, maybe with a grateful look, but no. Rose didn’t think she’d see him again, really. She couldn’t blame him.

There she sat, on the roof. “Maybe someone will notice me up here…,” she said aloud… to no one.

*************************************

Rodney to the Rescue (with )

No one was in sight, but the Emerald House was just across the street. Maybe she could get that man’s attention…

Slipping off a shoe, she aimed it at his roof and threw. Her teenage softball training paid off as it landed “THUNK” right over his front door. She waited a couple of minutes and then let the second shoe fly. “THUNK!”

The wooden green door flew open as a strain of unrepeatable curses, including several Rose had never heard issued forth. The man, Rodney, raised his fist above his bright red face, and turned up and down the street looking for the hooligans that must’ve been the cause of the dreadful noise.

“Rodney?” she called hesitantly. He still didn’t see her. “Rodney!” she shouted, fearing he’d go indoors and shut the door. “Rodney, I need help.”

His hard-learned military background required him to respond. He searched for the source of the request. Finally, he looked up to see a shoeless older woman sitting on her roof waving at him.

“What the heck! Why are you up there? Get down before you fall off! Are you crazy?…” He was firing off questions and ordering her down so fast she couldn’t respond.

Rose waited until he had run out of exclamations and questions. “Are you finished?” she asked, “I need help. I’m stuck up here. Can you help me down? Do you have a ladder?”

Again Rodney looked up and down the deserted street, hoping help would be coming from someone else. He looked back up at Rose. “No. I don’t have a ladder. I don’t need one. My house has one story and I don’t get up on the roof.” He was sounding exasperated. “Get down the way you got up.”

“I can’t.” She pointed to the broken trellis on the rose bushes. “Please get help.”

“No, I don’t need to ask for help. I’ve got some rope. Hold on.” He went back inside.

Rose waited patiently until he returned with a rope looped over his shoulder. “Is your house unlocked?” He yelled up at her.

“Yes, just open the door. What’s your plan?” she asked.

He didn’t answer until he stretched out of the window below her. He held her broom aloft, brush end up, in one hand, with a coil of rope atop. “Catch the rope.”

She held her breath, and reached over the edge… until her fingertips caught the rope, pulling it up to the roof. She sat back, letting out her breath again.

The rope was tied in a slipknot lasso. She felt the knot move. “What do I do with this?”

“Put it over your head and tighten it around your middle,” he instructed.

“You’re kidding,” she said.

“Not if you want to get down.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” she responded, slipping the rope around herself, and getting ready to jump.

“Don’t jump! I need to fasten it to something heavy in here. I’ll let you down slowly until you can climb in the window on the other side,” he explained.

It took a few minutes. The dragons had spotted her and had begun flying in circles overhead. She smiled and waved at them. She was grateful the streets were still quiet.

Rodney stuck his head out the window, “I tied it to the big heavy bed.”

“My grandmother’s bed? You tied me to the bed?” Rose asked.

“Well, yes. It looks solid enough. Now, I’m going to let you down easy on the other side of the house. When you reach the window, grab it and climb in. Don’t look down!”

She looked down, noticing Nibbins, prowling through the flowers, and Ferrell with his red ball in his mouth, gazing up at her. “What are they doing here?” she asked.

“Ready? I’m letting you down now.” She heard Rodney from the other side of the house, and decided to sit and drop off the roof. The rope went slack for a second. She gasped, then it caught! It was tight.

She was aware of an intense silence. Even the dragons seemed to have stilled. Nibbins and Ferrell must have frozen. She held her own breath, as inch by inch she lowered until she was level with the window.

“I’m at the window!” She yelled.

“I‘ll tie it off here!” He yelled back. “Wait for me. I’m coming to the window to bring you in.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” She gave him a small laugh when he reached the window.

He reached out and pulled her toward the window with strong, solid arms. Once she could reach it, he loosened his grip, but helped her through first one leg, then the other.

“Thanks! I would be up there still if you hadn’t come to help.”

“What were you doing up there, chasing after the poultry?” He asked.

“That was a peacock, a peacock in trouble,” she explained, and then started laughing. “I guess I was in trouble too.”

“A peacock in trouble, huh? Yep, I guess that just about sums it up.” He turned and started downstairs. “I’ll bring your shoes back over later. I don’t want you to get your dainty feet dirty.” He winked, and started out the door.

As soon as the door opened, cheers erupted from the crowd of neighbors and animals that filled the yard, spilling into the street. “Rodney! Rodney!” someone started the chant. It echoed off the buildings into the street. “For he’s a jolly good fellow” was sung in rousing chorus.

Rodney looked up, waved, and walked to his house grinning from ear to ear.

When he brought Rose’s shoes back, she thanked him again and handed him a red gerbera daisy, “I’m so glad you came to Millcreek Village, Neighbor. I promise not to get on my roof again, but I don’t promise not to need your help.”

“Anytime,” he answered.

Next, Rose went up the cobblestone path to Vivienne’s house. She felt the need to see her, to personally give her a bouquet, since she’d missed the pool party the day before.

She found it interesting that there weren’t any windows that faced the road. One couldn’t see movement within the house at all from the front.

“You can wait here with the flower wagon”, she told Wonder. “I won’t be but a minute, but I need to see Vivienne myself.”

Wonder must have been tired, as she didn’t argue, but flopped down beside the flower bundles and closed her eyes.

Though Rose couldn’t be sure anyone was home, she caught her breath and tapped on the door of #6 Cross Road.

Soon, she heard soft footsteps, an excited bark, and the lock being turned. Slowly the door opened. The wet nose of a large black dog emerged first, touching her hand, as if he wanted a head pat. “Hi, you!” Rose greeted him with a head rub, as he sniffed the flowers, then turned back into the house to get a ball.

Right behind the dog stood Vivienne, well-dressed and carefully manicured. They introduced themselves. “Please come in,” Vivienne gestured down the hall into the kitchen.

Rose couldn’t help noticing the many paintings, and paused to admire the beautiful colors of a floral oil painting as she passed. Vivienne, noticing her interest, said, “I do love surrounding myself with beautiful things.”

The kitchen was huge, with stone countertops polished until they shone. Rose’s eye was caught by the gleaming copper pans hung so that they’d be handy to use, as well as beautiful to the eye. The entire back wall was glass! On the other side of the wall, the pool water shimmered invitingly, reflecting the blue sky. The doors were open to the pool, and a fresh breeze flowed through the kitchen.

Ferrell, Vivienne’s dog, nudged Rose’s hand, dropping a red ball at her feet. She gave it a toss out the door to the side of the pool. He trotted after it and dropped it again at her feet.

“Red wine?” Vivienne asked, handing Rose a sparkling crystal wine glass. “You have arrived at an excellent moment for leftovers.” She indicated a charcuterie board containing a variety of cheeses, fruits, and crackers.

Rose felt relieved that Vivienne hadn’t seemed upset that she hadn’t made it to the pool party the night before. But she did think she should give some account of herself, so she said, ”I thought my neighbors might enjoy these. So I was delivering flowers to neighbors. It seemed like a nice way to introduce myself.”

Vivienne smiled warmly, accepting the flowers. “How thoughtful!” she commented.

“I love growing flowers,” Rose explained. “In fact I selected my home here in Millcreek Village because it was surrounded by red flower landscaping. There were even more flowers than I could see in the property pictures. And they replenish themselves, so that no matter how many are picked, there still are hundreds more! If you would like more flowers, come pick them, or give me a call and I’ll bring them over.”

After they had talked for about a half hour, Ferrell dropping his ball every few minutes at her feet, Rose remembered that Wonder was waiting for her in the wagon. It was a good thing Wonder had wanted a nap, she thought.

She set her empty plate beside the sink and picked up the ball to toss out the door for a delighted Ferrell a couple more times.

“I should probably let you get back to your afternoon,” she said as she made her way back to the door.

As she left, Vivienne, leaning against the door frame, thanked Rose for the flowers and invited her to return.

Ferrell wagged his tail and yipped his own goodbye as Rose waved, turning to walk down the cobblestone path.

She felt so glad she hadn’t just dropped off the flowers and left. This felt good, spending time talking with her neighbors. “I need to do more socializing,” she told herself.

She roused a sleepy Wonder, picked up the wagon handle, and they bumped on down to make the last flower delivery for the day.

*********

(The final delivery)

They put a large bouquet addressed to Miss Rumor at the Millcreek Gazette office. And, in case they had forgotten anyone, they tacked several extra bouquets onto the community cafe board for the taking.

Exhausted, Rose pulled the rattling empty wagon home, and collapsed on the couch. Wonder sprawled on her miniature bed. Neither bothered to take their shoes off.

“Today’s the day, Wonder. The garden clearly doesn’t run out of gorgeous red flowers, no matter how many we pick. Let’s take some to our neighbors!”

Wonder, Rose’s pixie companion, flew in a flurry of snipping, gathering an entire wheelbarrow full in 15 minutes. It took an hour and a half to gather them into bouquets tied with white ribbons around the stems. Before the sun was even mid-way to noon, they had filled up the wagon with bouquets of gerbera, zinnias, and roses. The shades of red glowed from within, and one might wonder about the bioengineered soil that offered up such brilliant blooms. The miniaturized Millcreek Village inhabitants didn’t have much chance to worry about it.

Rose had tied small bouquets with white ribbon for small dwellings, and large ones for the larger or public spots, such as Blue Aspen Farm Writer’s Retreat, the Climbing Gym/Edgeworks Cafe, the Mayor’s home, and the MillSpa Hotel lobby. Her typical technique for delivering the flowers was to arrange the flowers quickly on the front doorstep. Wonder would sprinkle pixie dust over them to keep them fresh and make them hypoallergenic. Then, they’d leave quickly around the side of the house, or behind a handy tree trunk, wishing the flowers to be a fun surprise.

Rose hoped the flowers would bring cheer and make all inhabitants feel welcome in the town. But at the same time, she was concerned, lest her new community think she was doing this to ingratiate herself. She wanted nothing in return but goodwill among her neighbors.

A couple of times, they were nearly caught! Those homes with dogs or dragons were especially tricky. They had to be uber quick, and more than once had to flee up a tree, or pretend the flower wagon wasn’t actually theirs.

Rose had stuck a card in each bouquet. The small card contained a couple of lines from Fred Rogers, a hero from her own childhood. It said simply:

**************

“Would you be mine?

Could you be mine?

Won’t you be my neighbor?”

(Fred Rogers)

Welcome to Millcreek Village!

We hope you like flowers. Come by and pick some anytime at 123 Forest Lane. (They seem to replenish themselves automatically.)

From your neighbors, Rose White and Wonder, the pixie

**************

Rose knew it was sappy. But she actually teared up when she thought that there might be someone here who felt left out, who didn’t realize that they were important to this village. It was worth the ones that might laugh or be suspicious, she told herself. She didn’t even mind if they ended up in compost heaps across town.

Trying to find the Mushroom Queen was a stretch. They ended up taking those flowers into the woods beyond the Pre-K and the park. Rose took several steps down the damp path, left a small bunch with Mycelius, and arranged her offering at the base of a mossy tree. Maybe the matriarch would see them. Maybe she wouldn’t like fresh flowers, preferring her own fungi, but Rose’s heart told her that the Queen would feel her intent and forgive her bringing such an offering to her.

Sorin Cloud was even more of a challenge to find. She decided to put the flowers in likely spots, on the mossy banks of the Forest Edge, down by the beach, on park benches, next to a footbridge, and in the branches of a tree.

Having no boat to get to the houseboat in the lake, she found a discarded board behind the art studio, rimmed it with waxed paper, and set the bouquet gently in the center. She sent it bobbing into the lake, and hoped it would knock up against Phoenix’s houseboat.

She couldn’t wait to see the results of this venture, and kept going.

She put a large bouquet addressed to Miss Rumor at the Millcreek Gazette office. And, in case she had forgotten anyone, they tacked several extra bouquets onto the community cafe board for the taking.

Exhausted, Rose pulled the rattling empty wagon home, and collapsed on the couch. Wonder sprawled on her miniature bed. Neither bothered to take their shoes off.

Rose Alice White

March 12, 2026

Finally the small grocery on Turnabout Square received the delayed order of barrels of flour, sugar, and salt from the city supply wagon. Daphne the grocer’s wife, quickly copied the labels from the shipping invoice to the barrels, keeping her eye on dark clouds billowing in the east.

The roof had been leaking. It needed reroofing, but that was an extra expense they hadn’t counted on. So, she moved the barrels away from the ceiling leak stains, and surveyed the store. Everything looked fine, unless you looked up. But there wasn’t much she could do about it.

Waiting on the doorstep for the store to open were Alex the baker from Turnabout Bakery, Brad the chef from Affluence and Style, and eight Homemakers Bakery Guild members who were making the final entry for their annual bake off.

After checking their watches, Alex and Brad glanced at each other. Alex nodded curtly, before he studied the sales sheet posted on the glass door. Brad averted his eyes, staring over the heads of the Guild members at the pine that grew in the center of the town square.

The shuffling Guild members were largely silent, each planning their best bake-off entry. Rebbek shifted her weight from one foot to another. She couldn’t wait to bake her grandmother’s sour cherry pie recipe, and show up Taryn, who thought her spiced apple tart was the best dessert in town.

When Harold unlocked the front door at 8 o’clock, the silent throng pushed their way in and headed for the barrels. It took over an hour to weigh each customer’s orders of flour, sugar, and salt. Harold always used a fair weight with the bulk orders, but he did have to watch that other customers didn’t place a finger or hand on the scale, throwing the price higher than it should be. He wanted to think that kind of interference was accidental, but it happened frequently.

After the initial morning rush, the rest of the day was less frantic, with more normal sales of fresh vegetables, fruits, and meat. Harold relaxed and in the minutes between working the cash register began making gingerbread men in the store-side kitchen for the neighborhood children who would arrive when school let out. Like most everyone else, he had completely run out of flour, sugar, and salt before today’s delivery. He felt grateful for the chance to bake treats for the kids again.

The sweet spicy scent of ginger and cinnamon wafted around the store, encouraging coffee and tea sales and causing customers to linger.

By 3, Harold had filled the cookie jars with fresh gingerbread men. He made sure the sign, “Free for those 13 and under,” was visible. There would always be the older child or parent that would sneak a cookie, but mostly they were for the kids.

At 3:15 the first group of youngsters arrived, snatching a cookie to munch on as they walked home.

Harold watched their faces, eager to see their grins, but today, he only saw surprise. One by one, the children threw the beautiful gingerbread men in the trash, after only taking a nibble.

Harold was sure he had followed the recipe carefully. What could be wrong? He pulled a cookie from the jar to try it.

Yuck! It was awful! The extreme saltiness coupled with the spices made his lips and tongue burn. His cookie followed the others into the trash.

As soon as he had realized how awful the cookies were, he thought he knew what had happened.

Sugar and salt looked so similar and Daphne might not have paid attention to detail.

But that meant that everyone baking, or using sugar or salt had inedible baked goods that day. He sat down, leaning back in his chair. Now what could he do? His business could be ruined.

There were angry shouts coming from the Affluence and Style restaurant across the square. Harold could hear them from inside his store.

Curious, but reluctant, he ventured out to the storefront. From across the square, Taryn and Rebbek approached, murderous looks on dark faces and extra-salty baked goods in their hands.

An attempt at a welcoming smile failed to soften dagger-sharp eyes and chiseled scowls. A series of clatters resounded as the ruined pastries were dropped down on the counter. Silence hung heavy with accusatory frowns.

“Hey, slow down!” Someone shouted from down the road. A wagon pulled by horses careened to a stop in front of the grocery. It was completely loaded with white and red bags labeled SUGAR.

Grinning broadly, a red and white uniformed man jumped down from the wagon. “Are you Harold?”

“Yes, sir! But I didn’t make another order.” Harold eyed the wagon contents, judging that much sugar would put quite a dent in his outgoing expenses.

“We know, sir. There was a major mix-up at the supply yard this morning. The salt… uh… I mean the sugar…,” he swallowed hard, “what I mean is, your supplies this morning that were labeled sugar were actually salt. We are so sorry.” His smile faltered.

A huge crowd had gathered around the wagon and Harold. Angry faces were beginning to relax in understanding.

“The supply yard president sent this wagon load to you free of charge, and to try to make amends, he’s going to send a wagon of sugar at no charge for the next 3 months as well. It’s our premium white sugar, packed into easy to use bags.” He held one up and showed it around.

Turnabout citizens cheered!

Harold swallowed, and looked into the smiling faces of his neighbors and friends. “Let’s get this wagon unloaded then. I’ve got a record of all orders this morning… and we’ll make sure you get all the sugar you needed, plus more flour, so we can all get back to baking.”

“You know, I’ve got some completely inedible gingerbread salt cookies and I imagine there are other completely awful baked goods in your kitchens. Why don’t we all meet back up at Turnabout Square for a bonfire of all those inedible things at 8 this evening? Bring some snacks to share. Free hot apple cider will be available from the store.”

Where an hour ago there had been fury, now delight and excited chatter met this news.

Sugar was dispersed and there were free extra bags for anyone who needed some.

That night, a huge pyre was erected for the burning of the awful baked items. Cheers accompanied the tossing of each item into roaring flames.

As the flames died down, Harold saw his wife at the edge of the crowd. He made his way over to her.

“Daphne, I have something to admit to you,” he said quietly. She looked up, curious, but let him talk. “When my cookies turned out salty, I thought that maybe you had confused the labels. That maybe you had marked the salt as sugar and vice versa. But you did just exactly what you should have. This wasn’t your fault. I wanted to apologize to you for even thinking it. I love you working with me, and could use more help from you, if you have the time, especially now the kids are in school.”

“I’d love to spend more time at the grocery! You know, this was a great idea: the burning of the ruined baked things in a big pyre and making it a community celebration. Maybe the square is a good place for regular summer bonfires.”

He gave her a squeeze and a kiss. “Another great idea, Daphne!”

Rose Alice White

March 6, 2026

“Be on the lookout, Wonder!” Silence met me as I peered around.

“Eeee!” My heart pounded! “I think I see a dragon! Look!” My overactive imagination was going wild. I took a big breath. “No, I think it’s just a peacock. Dragons have to be a lot bigger than that, even miniature ones. But keep your eyes open, Wonder!”

After another block of walking, I began to settle down. Who knew the miniaturization interface would glitch on our stuff after it had successfully miniaturized us? I kept worrying about it all. That was unlike anything I’d ever experienced. Had it even been safe?

“Do you think we will fit here, Wonder?” I glanced at my companion, a small brown pixie with fuzzy antenna and splits in her wings, sitting cross-legged on my shoulder. “I know it’s in the middle of a neighborhood, but the town sounded refreshingly unusual. I feel ready to socialize a bit, after living alone in the woods for so long. And I hear there is a tall tree near our house.

“123 Forest Lane. Doesn’t that sound perfect for us?”

Wonder momentarily left my shoulder, soaring up into blue sky above us. I didn’t worry. She always came back. Wonder may not speak to me, but she understood my words and had great ideas herself. Since she came to be part of my life, amazing possibilities seemed to present themselves. I often followed her lead.

And here she was again, a scarlet zinnia held aloft like a sun umbrella. “Wonder,” I asked, “Did you find our house? On the listing, it said ‘red landscaping’.”

She presented the zinnia to me in both arms. I took it gently, and she zipped on ahead, looking back at me. I laughed, “I’m coming!”

I hurried after her, my wagon of over-miniaturized belongings bumping down the sidewalk after me. Supposedly they would enlarge to just the right size when placed inside the house. That’s what the attendant said, but that wink he gave makes me wonder…

******

I see it! Red flowers surround my house on all sides, just like the photo! I look up and the second story windows are open, curtains gently rustling in the breeze. The key is in my pocket and I fit it into the front door. The door opens! I drop the wagon handle outside and walk in. Wonder flies in and immediately disappears to do her own exploration.

It’s furnished! A beautiful hardwood floor, a cushioned couch, and an old fashioned secretary in the living room, a huge kitchen with pans hanging from hooks at the ready, a wooden table and chairs, and a room off to the side with grow lights and seed starting supplies.

Oh my stars! I’m in love with this place!

I eagerly take the wooden staircase leading up to the second floor. Two large bedrooms are here, each with a queen sized bed, a large walk in closet, an attached bath, and the open windows I saw from outside. The air is sweet and fresh.

I think I will choose the bedroom that overlooks Tree House Lane, the yard beside Amy Jami Hiller’s Emerald House and the large tree at the corner.

Wonder zipped out my bedroom window. I leaned out to see if I could catch where she was headed. She hovered near the front door and the wagon of over-miniaturized furniture I had abandoned there. Hmmph. Guess I didn’t need that stuff after all. But Wonder settled down. She seemed to have taken a shine to the over-miniatured bed and spread herself out on it, pulling the bedspread up to her chin.

Maybe I’ll bring it in. Wonder can use it the size it is. I smiled to myself thinking of setting up a miniature apartment within my house for my companion.

Then, maybe I’ll take some red flower bouquets to the neighbors and introduce myself.

Sigh! I’m home. We are home! I love it!

An oddly-amplified peacock call sounded from behind the house. I need to see more of those peacocks.

Rose Alice White

March 4, 2026

“It’s over there. Go toward the trees there another few blocks.” Andie grimaced, squinting in the blazing hot sun. She waved her hand in the direction of the arroyo.

The old woman sighed, shifted the bundle on her back, picked up the toddler gently, and made her way in the direction of the wave.

Feeling a slight pang of guilt, Andie nearly ran after them, but any fool could see the steeple and the cross just behind her if they looked.

Couldn’t they?

Andie turned her back on the retreating visitors. “If you ask a stupid question, you get a stupid answer…” Isn’t that what Indy, her uncle, said? She still felt his jeer, wincing at the memory of his words.

How was she to know Indy lost his job as a stable hand when he lied to her, saying he had picked up an extra job as a cashier? She had been so hopeful when he’d appeared at their apartment a few days ago, that his new income could help them with the rent. Maybe a look at his worn, dirty clothes and grimy fingernails would have revealed the lie that he had no job at all, but she so wanted to believe him.

When truth was revealed, he barked rough laughter. His scornful words still slapped at her. Eyes stinging, Andie blindly stumbled into a prickly pear beside the road. She immediately jerked away from its sharp spines.

Did she really want to be like Indy?

She answered herself quickly, with determination. No! She did not.

Andie turned, rubbing away the sting of the cactus, and hurried toward the arroyo. All the visitors wanted was the cool sanctuary of the church on a hot, dry day. She could give them that.

“Wait!” Andie called, catching up with their slow progress. “It’s this way.” She pointed back toward their original direction. “Here, let me help you. I can carry your little girl” she offered.

“Well… If you don’t mind…” The woman handed the young child to her. Though she raised her eyebrows and held Andie’s eyes for a few seconds, she did not ask the question Andie knew she had.

“You were very close when you asked me where the church was,” Andie explained. “I… I…” she faltered, not knowing what to say.

The moment held silence.

Andie let out her breath, “I was upset with someone who lied to me, and I pointed you in the wrong direction on purpose.” she admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“I understand more than you know,” The woman smiled sadly and spoke softly, almost to herself, “I’ve hurt others, and there’s always a cost.” She glanced at the child before adding, “Of course we forgive you. You came back to help us. Thank you.”

The child slept on Andie’s shoulder as she led the visitor back up the dusty road. She got them settled on a carved wooden pew inside the cool adobe building.

Before she left them, the old woman gave her hand a squeeze. “You have a kind heart. Let it lead you.”

And those were the words that now sang around Andie.

Rose Alice White

February 15, 2026

High above her, a lone hawk cried from a branch. Leaves rustled in the slight breeze that cooled her flushed cheeks.

Listening intently for footsteps, she became aware of her own harsh breath. It caught in her throat, and released as a single sob.

The rustling of the leaves got louder to her left, though the wind didn’t increase. A bit of brilliant red caught her eye. Was that a feather moving behind that large boulder? Some strange bird, or…?

“Caroline,” she whispered. “Caroline?” she called.

But it wasn’t her little sister who responded.

Out from behind the rock clambered a bold little man, a brilliant red feather stuck in his equally brilliant red hat. He wore a smart black suit with white lapels. With a grin so broad that his red mustache spread from ear to ear, he began to beat on a deep drum.

Totally forgetting her earlier distress, Betsy giggled in delight as an entire parade of little people emerged from behind the rock.

What a company! Mostly dressed in formal wear, they strutted and gazed about themselves. She took note of their splendid attire.

Some with rust-colored dresses and slate-gray wraps walked with their noses in the air. How could they see where they were going, she wondered.

A large contingent dressed in brilliant yellow pants and vests wore contrasting black shirts with bars of white. They glanced left and right continually, and ran from the parade as often as they walked within it, gaining strict looks from the drummer, and causing Betsy to giggle.

Finally came a few slower and stouter ladies, with fawn-colored tatty shawls, who bobbed as they walked, consulting each other, cooing encouragingly at the assembled. These reminded Betsy of her aunts, always watching and gossiping, when they weren’t cooking up treats for their nieces and nephews.

Once all had emerged, the drummer fell silent.

A small woman in a nondescript brown and cream dress sat on a low branch and began a song. At the first three notes, the company formed a circle. She trilled once more and they began to dance .

In three steps.

Pause and turn.

Out three steps.

Pause and bow.

Flutter and scratch.

Dip and call.

Repeat.

Betsy could not look away, nor did she wish to. She felt light, breathing deeply and easily. She sighed and relaxed against a sturdy tree trunk, allowing herself to sit and observe.

After several minutes another singer began, and the dancing changed. The dancers hopped higher and higher, until the circle burst apart in a cacophony of rustling, or was it flapping…and birdsong?

Her eyes lifted to see birds, like multicolored confetti, rising into the branches above her.

Betsy giggled. She laughed out loud as she stood up. Birdsong and twittering in the trees answered her. Her heart yearned after them. She threw her arms around the tree trunk and held it in a tight hug, trying to anchor the feeling.

But the sun shone low through the trees. Her arms chilled in the cooler air. Soon it would get dark. A good time to go home and reassure Caroline that Dodge’s hair would grow out again.

Betsy remembered how magic scissors seemed when she first learned how to use them. And of course she’d gotten in trouble too, cutting her own hair.

At least Caroline hadn’t cut her own hair…

Betsy stopped still.

Oh no! She hadn’t taken the scissors away! Caroline was still holding them when Betsy had found her with Dodge. She’d just screamed at her and run out of the house in frustration.

She hadn’t taken the scissors!

Betsy raced down the path.

Toward home.

Rose Alice White

February 12, 2026

Things I love:

A purring cat

Seed catalogs in the winter

Starting seedlings

Good morning hugs in the elementary school hall

Young women (former students) who search me out to say hello and tell me their plans for the future.

Making heirloom quality handcrafted felt Christmas ornaments for my family

Choosing felt and floss colors in anticipation of the outcome. Planning for beauty and expression.

Trust from a wary child that I will help.

Trips with my husband

Shared soup with family

Being able to provide what someone needs

Coffee by a warm woodstove on a cold morning

Warm socks

Respect

Peace

A good book

Sharing joy of learning

Reading aloud to a class

Feeding birds

A down comforter/ light, fluffy, and warm

Feeding others well

Listening to music, especially my husband playing

Singing harmony with my sister

Playing music with my family

Baking bread

A walk in the woods or up a mountain

Theater productions

Teaching children

Discussing philosophy of teaching

Our children, their spouses, our grandchildren

Playing card and board games with family and friends

Folk dancing

“You told me to bring Frankenstein. That’s him. I had to make a detour to fetch him, and he’s been a bit of trouble, but here we are!”

Melchior threw up his hands, nearly upsetting the perch on his own camel. “Not Frankenstein! Frankincense! I said bring Frankincense.”

Rose Alice White

December 20, 2025

He knew he was a puppet. A limberjack, Marcus said proudly.

Marcus was the dancing figure on the end of a stick, one that would dance with loosely jointed arms and legs when Saylor tapped out the rhythm on the flexible wooden board, in time to a good Appalachian tune. He was especially proud that his right knee was so well jointed that it sometimes would spin in dizzying complete circles, entertaining the crowd looking on. Saylor had carved him himself, from the wood of an old pine tree that had been struck by lightening. He supposed the lightening made the difference in his awareness.

He could dance without the board, even without Saylor! He couldn’t show off, not in front of the humans, he had discovered. The day he had tried to move without Saylor’s help, the old aunt nearly tossed him into the woodstove. He still remembered the fire blazing as she held him near. The heat already beginning to turn his bright red painted pants to a grayish shade. He twisted away from the heat, trying to climb the aunt’s arm. If the old woman’s screeches hadn’t brought Saylor running…

Marcus lived shut up in a chest for a while after that, until Saylor pulled him out to entertain a room full of kindergarteners. After that, he set Marcus back up on the piano, and grabbed him when folks came by for a jam session.

But the days he came out to thrill an audience seemed few, in comparison to the number spent propped up on the mostly unused piano in the corner of Saylor’s front room.

Few times… and then none. Saylor himself didn’t even come into the room. No one did. Marcus mostly slept, occasionally waking to note the dust collecting on his legs. This was a silent time.

*****

Click, creak, another click… the front door opened. A couple men, and a boy came into the house. The men glanced around quickly, wrote things in a notebook, and moved into another room. But the boy stayed.

He wandered to the piano, and plinked a few notes. Marcus watched him curiously as he stood on the piano bench, and reached up touching various boxes, an old vase, a carved bird…

Their eyes met. The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he grinned, pulling Marcus from the piano top, and climbing back to the floor.

Marcus didn’t dare blink. Boy pulled the stick from his back, leaving him floppy… and free!

He held him by the waist and moved him into a walk, his joints flopping this way and that. He danced him then, and his arms moved loosely, his right knee made a furious spin. Boy’s joyous laugh made the piano strings vibrate.

“Can I have this?” Boy held up Marcus when the men walked back, their notebook full of scribbles.

“Yeah. It wouldn’t go for much. You can have it,” one of them said as he strode out the door.

Boy slipped Marcus into his backpack.

****

When he saw light again, and was pulled free from the pack, Marcus was in a new room. This one was bright, with windows and lamps, but the thing that immediately caught his attention was a tree in one end of the room. It had shiny balls and small figures of all kinds that hung from the branches. There were strings of multicolored lights and tinsel. There was some kind of lady at the very top… maybe a queen? He didn’t know, but the tree was beautiful!

Boy carried him over to the tree and tucked him into the branches, his jointed legs over one side, and his arms propped up, as if he were climbing. Then he left and ran outside.

The family came and went all day. Marcus stayed just as he was placed until it became dark.

Just the tree lights were shining as he made his way carefully up to the top of the tree, past bells and balls, up to the top, to see “the Queen”.

He noticed that her eyes followed his progress, as he climbed. She gave him a wide grin, as he sat next to her at the top. “Welcome,” she whispered. “I thought you were aware, when you came in. I’m Linette, Queen of the tree. Where have you come from?”

Thus began nights of conversations. Linette could not move from her position, as she had no jointed limbs, but she had seen much in her tenure as Queen. Marcus regaled her with the life of an entertainer, and climbed up and down the tree easily. He brought her gifts; jingle bells, a cat toy mouse, a small iced cookie, so she could hear, touch, and taste bits of the world she otherwise could only see.

In the mornings, Boy would find Marcus in different places in the tree, up with the Queen, gazing into the reflection of a bell, hanging precariously or swinging from a branch. sometimes even lying under the tree. He felt sure his new puppet was watching him, perhaps to report to Santa, so he behaved himself especially well in the Christmas tree room.

To their delight, Marcus and the Queen were packed into a box together at the end of the season. The long close darkness time was usual, the Queen explained, but they would come out again. Marcus couldn’t wait!

Rose Alice White

December 15, 2025

The train, as it appeared in the box, had no destination. There wasn’t a track in the box, though there was an engine, a passenger car, a boxcar, and a caboose. The “Winter Express” train box also contained a very serious conductor figure in a blue uniform and four passengers: a boy, a fancy lady with a parasol, a farmer, and a cowboy with boots and a lariat. There were a few animals too: a dog, some ducks, and an elephant.

When Roy put his pride into his pocket and walked into the church to see what Santa could get his son for Christmas, he was hoping for a small basket ball and a hoop he could tack onto the door.

He quickly realized that his pride had held out too long. There weren’t any balls and hoops. Toward the back of the sanctuary, he was lucky to find a box with a train.

He heard steps approaching and quickly picked up the box. “Could you use a ham?” a quiet voice behind him asked. “There are some prebaked hams, and boxes of potato flakes over by the tree. And a package of rolls… Would it be ok if I just made up a box for you to take with you? How many folks live at your place?”

“It’s just me and my boy this year, but I’m hoping my mom will come eat dinner. That’d be real nice, ma’am,” Roy replied. He found he just couldn’t look up. He swallowed hard. “I haven’t had time to think about Christmas.”

“That’s a nice train you’ve got there. It just came in this afternoon. Lady who brought it said it held magic or something… I don’t know about magic, but it sure is cute.

I’ll go make up a box of food things. Take a look at the jackets and gloves under the windows. Be sure to get ones for yourself too. And there are work boots there too. I’m only going to be here for another half hour, so the more things you can take, the better for me.”

Roy found red gloves, and a thick blue jacket with a race car on the back for Tommy, and a parka for himself, and one for his mom. He went to check out the work boots, while the lady busied herself with the food box.

After finding boots that fit perfectly, he walked to the tree, where the church lady stood with a huge box. “I hope you don’t mind”, she said looking into his brown eyes, “I put a bunch of extra stuff in this box. That way I won’t have to take it to the back room tonight.” She pointed through a back door down the hall.

“Thanks. Ummm, I don’t pick Tommy up for another hour. Do you need a hand, carrying these things? To clean up, I mean …” his voice trailed off. “I can help for 20 minutes, and then I’ve got to go. Mom can’t keep Tommy after that, cause she’s got to go work at the gas station.”

“I could use a hand,” she looked around, “Everyone else is busy tonight, so it’s just me cleaning up. Until the custodian comes in,” she quickly added.

What had gotten into him? Roy wondered as he carried the boxes and wraps to his dented old Chevy. He didn’t belong in this place. He hadn’t been in a church for decades. But if he could help out, that would make him feel better about taking their charity.

As he helped the lady carry the things to the back room, he noticed the crib near the door. It was obviously one that was used, with blankets bunched, a teddy askew, and a book open.

“That’s for Billy. He’s Sarah’s son. Sarah…the custodian,” she explained, having followed his gaze. “She brings him to work. He sleeps while she cleans.

“We’re looking for a daytime custodian too, if you are interested, or know anyone who might want to apply. Just need to fill out an application.”

Roy drew in a breathe. “Ma’am? I’d like to apply,” he said in a rush. “Tractor Plus laid me off last month, even though I’d been working there for years, and I’m looking for work. Christmas this year, is especially hard,” he admitted.

She smiled, “Well… Come into the office. I’ll give you an application. Sounds like you might be a good applicant.”

She led him down another hall to the main offices and unlocked the priest’s door. She took an application from the middle of a pile on the desk and handed it to Roy. “The office will be open tomorrow, of course, as there are Christmas services, and there’s someone here from 8-12 every day. Bring it by when you can.”

Roy drove home with his head swimming, a huge smile on his face. He had Christmas in his car, and a good lead on a job. He quickly stashed the train under his bed. When he opened the food box to put the ham in the refrigerator, he saw the church lady had put a hand knitted stocking in there too, with a red car and a stuffed dog sticking out of the top.

Tears of gratitude clouded his vision. He wiped them away with resolve, putting the rest of the food away quickly, and ran downstairs to pick up Tommy from his mom’s apartment.

He burst through her door a scant minute before she had to go for work. He gave her an extra hug on her way out, and told her he had a lead on a job. She returned his bright smile with a tired one of her own.

The next morning, Tommy awoke to a beautiful stocking and the “Winter Express” train with its marvelously diverse passengers. Once he tried it on, Tommy would not take off his new blue jacket, but sat on the floor creating an interesting tale of a circus elephant who boarded a train that was already overrun with ducks. The conductor kept trying to sort it all out.

Roy suddenly remembered that he hadn’t filled out the job application. He hurriedly filled it out, and then decided to take it back to the church right away.

He knew he couldn’t take Tommy to his mom’s, as she’d be asleep, after the night tending the gas station. He decided to leave her a message on the phone, inviting him up to his apartment for Christmas dinner. Then he bundled Tommy, still clutching the elephant and the conductor, into the car, and drove to the church.

He only knew how to get to the offices by the front door, so he walked in through the sanctuary doors, same as yesterday.

The organist was playing a familiar song. Music swept around stained glass windows and soared up to the ceiling. “Joy to the World” filled his ears and his heart sang along. The robed priest stood behind the carved pulpit. She smiled a welcome to him, and nodded her head. Recognizing her as the kind church lady from the night before, Roy threw back his head and laughed, his joy and the song becoming one!

“Joy to the World” closed the Christmas service. The Christmas Day attendees thanked the priest, and left into the cold, to prepare their dinners and get on with their day.

Roy waited until all had left, and approached the smiling priest. “So glad you came today,” she welcomed him with an open gesture to the space.

“I brought my job application…” he began.

“And you’ve brought your son!” she exclaimed. “Who are you, my child?” she laid a hand on his back.

“Daddy? Is she my mommy?” Tommy’s eyes were confused as he clutched his dad, then buried his face into Roy’s neck.

“No,” Roy whispered, quietening him. “She’s a friend. Don’t worry.”

“This is Tommy. My son,” he told the priest.

She laughed, “Just call me Silvia. Everyone else does. I need to talk with your daddy about a job, Tommy.”

Roy, his heart full; Tommy, clutching an elephant and a broadly smiling conductor; and Silvia, in priestly robes; all walked to the office to discuss Roy’s new job.

Rose Alice White

December 13, 2025