Friday, 19 February 2010

Felicity and Ivan

Felicity and Ivan strolled hand in hand through the meadow. They loved the peace, and the beauty of all the wild things. When they reached a nice, open, warm spot they sat down in the grass. For a long time, neither of them spoke. Felicity let a tiny spider run across her fingers and up her arm, before gently scooping her up and placing her back on the grass, smiling sadly. “Oh Ivan,” she sighed finally, “I’ll miss you so much.” Ivan reached over to pull her in, hugging her tightly.
Ivan and Felicity had been friends since they were 10 months old. They were born in the same month, in the same town, and had met at playgroup. Upon discovering that they lived so close to one another, their mothers had become firm friends, paving the way for Ivan and Felicity to grow up side-by-side for the next 14 years. They did everything together: They took their first steps on the same day, started their first school together, learned to ride a bike with each others’ encouragement, shared birthday parties and friends. All-in-all, they had been inseparable. No one knew them better than the other. And now Ivan’s father had been asked to move away with his job, and the whole family were going with him.
“Are you quite sure I won’t fit into your bag?” Felicity asked sincerely. “I’ll be ever so quiet, I promise. No one will even know I’m there until it’s far too late, and by then I’m sure they’ll all agree it’s just best for me to stay and…” Ivan chuckled. “Oh F’liss.” He smiled. “You know I’ll miss you too, but if you came with me, who would write and tell me all about the animals and flowers in the meadow? And who would I have to call me and tell me how they’ve made friends with yet another mini-crawly, and are planning to start a crawly-people army and take over the world?” He grinned at Felicity cheekily. She laughed. “I will you know! And when my butterfly squadron bombards your house with over-ripe strawberries, don’t come crying to me about how your best jeans are all squidgy and red!” And she pulled away from him, throwing a handful of grass and laughing.
For the rest of the afternoon the two friends laughed and wandered aimlessly through the meadow, trying to forget about Ivan’s flight in the morning. That evening they wandered to the Meadow Watcher’s cottage, and sat drinking pink lemonade and talking about all the many meadow visits of the years gone by. By the time they could bear to make their separate ways home, the moon was already risen, bright and beautiful, and the meadow gleamed shades of green and blue.
Hand-in-hand they strolled through the dewy grass, no longer laughing. From the hedgerows came the sound of night time crawlies chirping and clicking and buzzing. At the bottom of the meadow they turned to one another and embraced.
“Bye F’liss.” Whispered Ivan into her hair. “Bye Ivan.” Felicity sobbed into his chest. And they turned and headed in opposite directions, towards home. Just as each reached the far sides of the meadow, they stopped and turned. Seeing one another for the last time in this way they were both saddened and comforted. “I’ll come back for you, don’t worry F’liss!” Ivan called. “I’ll wait right here!” Felicity called back, tears rolling down her rosy cheeks. And suddenly they sprinted across the meadow towards one another, arms outstretched, for one final embrace.

Off in the distance, sitting on a log, a tiny pink bear had looked up from her sketching in the pale moonlight, having heard voices. Framed against the night sky she saw two figures running toward one another, before embracing for a long time. “How lovely,” she thought, “what a wonderful painting that would make.” And went back to her sketching.

Of Fifi and Mimi - the Meadow Watcher's musings.

When I saw Mimi and Fifi giggling together at a butterfly who kept landing on Mimi's painting I knew that we would get along great. After introducing myself to the girls we sat and enjoyed the day, drinking pink lemonade and watching the mini-crawlies go about their busy little lives. As the sun was setting over the meadow and we were all starting to feel a little sleepy, Mimi turned to me and offered me her painting of the pretty meadow gate. After much careful consideration I explained to Mimi that I was lucky enough to live by the meadow, and got to see it every day, and perhaps she might want someone else to have it so that they could share it too. Mimi and Fifi both agreed immediately that this was a very good idea. Then suddenly, Mimi pulled a second, very beautiful painting from her pretty satchel. As she explained what she had seen the night she painted it, I smiled and, in turn, told her another story: the story of who was in the painting. That Painting Mimi left with me also, and it has since been sent to Lorraine who we hope will treasure it as much as the little bear who painted it did.

Tuesday, 16 February 2010

The Beginning

Mimi the little pink bear wandered through the long grass, gently brushing the tiny bluebells as she passed, making them dance like little chimes. She had come to the meadow to paint, and after finding a nice warm well-lit spot, she sat on the ground, plopping her satchel containing her sketchbook and other tools by her side.
Mimi wondered which part of the meadow to paint first. It was all very pretty. Just then, a scampering sound caught Mimi’s ear.
“Who’s there?” She called, timidly.
“Me!” Called a sweet voice. Out from behind a particularly big toadstool hopped a beautiful minty-green rabbit. Mimi smiled sweetly.
“Nice to meet you, Me.” She said.
The rabbit giggled. “My name’s not Me!” She exclaimed merrily, “It’s Fifi!”
“Oh how wonderful!” Mimi squeaked, terribly relieved because she had been imagining having a new friend called Me might get a little confusing. “My name is Mimi!”
Fifi grinned. “Our names are so similar, we were obviously meant to be friends!” She said decisively, plonking herself down next to Mimi. “So what are we doing today, new-friend-Mimi?”
“Oh,” said Mimi bashfully “I was going to paint some pictures of this beautiful meadow, but I didn’t know where to start. Do you think you might know where is best to start?”
Fifi ran her paws over her long soft ears, humming thoughtfully. “If I was going to paint a meadow,” She said eventually “I would probably want to start at the beginning.”
“Oh.” Replied Mimi, somewhat confused. After a few moments she added “Where might that be?”
Fifi giggled. Hopping up, she shook her fluffy tail and held out her paw to Mimi. “I’ll show you” she smiled. Gratefully accepting, Mimi stood up, shouldered her satchel once again and followed Fifi, paw in paw.
After a little while they stopped in front of a gate. Mimi looked up. A little painted sign was hanging from the wooden bars.
“The Strawberry Meadow”
Fifi smiled, shading her eyes from the sun with her floppy ears. “This,” She said proudly “is what I would call, ‘The Beginning’.”

About The Meadow

The meadow is a magical place, hazy and beautiful. Dewdrops sparkle on bluebells, and wild strawberries ramble through the hedgerows. The air smells sweet and fresh. More often than not it's wonderfully bright, and an abundance of beautiful plants, flowers, and fruits flourish here. There are many mini-crawlies and small creatures who visit daily, from those who are just passing through, to those who are looking for new friendships and possibly even new homes. 

This blog contains the musings of the Meadow Watcher. Here you will find tales of the comings and goings of such friends, and hopefully you will love them all as much as she does.

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