(For any that wish to partake in the Kite Wars but cannot attend the actual event,::coughEless-Jewellcough:: you can post here! Happy Memorial Day.)
Deep, untroubled sleep was elusive for the potter these days. But instead of tossing and turning in bed seeking another quarter hour of blissful slumber, she simply got her lazy self out of bed as soon as her eyes popped open and got busy with her day.
This morning was no different.
She dressed carefully for the day; a modest white gown with a full skirt that swept at her feet. Designed for freedom of movement, (no binding bodice and layers of petticoats for Piper today!) it could be lifted easily when the time came to be running and jumping about. Even her long dark hair was plaited vigilantly so as not to impede her vision. This was war, after all! Nothing could be left to chance. Even the sandals, with straps laced around her ankles and half way up her shins would be discarded as soon as she reached the glen.
The small but sturdy hand-pulled cart, used to deliver the larger items of pottery to customers, was positioned outside her cottage door and nearly overflowing with items by noon of the day the Kite war was to commence.
A large vat of lemonade took center stage in the cart. Piled carefully in straw to the left of the lemonade was an array of a dozen mismatched mugs in case others arrived without something to wet parched throats.
A generous sized basket was settled snug against the mugs. She'd filled it with meat pies and smoked meats, hunks of cheese and loafs of crusty bread, a large pot of honey and jars of jams. Plus there was an abundant array of fruit for those needing an energy boost!
The rest of the cart was filled with a quilt, her satchel of gimcracks, one of Misfit Cor's torrid romance novels borrowed from MMMM headquarters to sleep under if the need arose for a nap, a large floppy hat to hide under if the Sun proved to be beastly, and other various and sundry items to enhance the day (i.e., swatches of gauze, ointments and oils and lotions for bites and scratches should nature take a nibble on the folks regressing back to their childhood and more carefree times before supposed maturity forced them into more somber moods and temperament.)
And of course, placed in the position of honor on top of it all, was her Dragonfly!
Pleased with her progress thus far, she stood outside her new home beside the cart, hands upon her hips and looked about with a bright smile and studied the sky. Having witnessed more trained and scholarly types test the wind, she licked her forefinger and stuck her hand into the air (Sadly, she looked as if she was testing out some ridiculous dance step). Yes, she looked like a moron and she had no idea what she was checking for, but it seemed the thing to do on such a momentous occasion. "Right then, lets go fly a kite."
Deep, untroubled sleep was elusive for the potter these days. But instead of tossing and turning in bed seeking another quarter hour of blissful slumber, she simply got her lazy self out of bed as soon as her eyes popped open and got busy with her day.
This morning was no different.
She dressed carefully for the day; a modest white gown with a full skirt that swept at her feet. Designed for freedom of movement, (no binding bodice and layers of petticoats for Piper today!) it could be lifted easily when the time came to be running and jumping about. Even her long dark hair was plaited vigilantly so as not to impede her vision. This was war, after all! Nothing could be left to chance. Even the sandals, with straps laced around her ankles and half way up her shins would be discarded as soon as she reached the glen.
The small but sturdy hand-pulled cart, used to deliver the larger items of pottery to customers, was positioned outside her cottage door and nearly overflowing with items by noon of the day the Kite war was to commence.
A large vat of lemonade took center stage in the cart. Piled carefully in straw to the left of the lemonade was an array of a dozen mismatched mugs in case others arrived without something to wet parched throats.
A generous sized basket was settled snug against the mugs. She'd filled it with meat pies and smoked meats, hunks of cheese and loafs of crusty bread, a large pot of honey and jars of jams. Plus there was an abundant array of fruit for those needing an energy boost!
The rest of the cart was filled with a quilt, her satchel of gimcracks, one of Misfit Cor's torrid romance novels borrowed from MMMM headquarters to sleep under if the need arose for a nap, a large floppy hat to hide under if the Sun proved to be beastly, and other various and sundry items to enhance the day (i.e., swatches of gauze, ointments and oils and lotions for bites and scratches should nature take a nibble on the folks regressing back to their childhood and more carefree times before supposed maturity forced them into more somber moods and temperament.)
And of course, placed in the position of honor on top of it all, was her Dragonfly!
Pleased with her progress thus far, she stood outside her new home beside the cart, hands upon her hips and looked about with a bright smile and studied the sky. Having witnessed more trained and scholarly types test the wind, she licked her forefinger and stuck her hand into the air (Sadly, she looked as if she was testing out some ridiculous dance step). Yes, she looked like a moron and she had no idea what she was checking for, but it seemed the thing to do on such a momentous occasion. "Right then, lets go fly a kite."