Oh there he is! Her head tilts, and her smile widens to see him get up from the chair and move so easily, so much better than the day before. Even the beginnings of the mountain man look about his face and chin looks good on him she decides, as she watches Maxim swing his crutches and stride toward her. He'll have to suffer a bit longer without a razor, but if he ever visits again it's one thing she will certainly have on hand. She wasn't able to go all the way into town, however, there are neighbors just a mile or so down the road. And like in other small communities, the barter system works as well here as anywhere else.
A child's handmade dress for fresh food and raw milk, and the promise of more. Help weeding a garden, and tutoring the young for a portion of the harvest, extra hands to help in the orchard in autumn for a few barrels of apples, or jars of preserves; all of these things can be had if one has the skill and perseverance to see it through.
"Busy, oh very busy, my friend" she responds in French as she hands over the basket after giving Max a quick, friendly peck on the cheek. It's easier than attempting a hug, and less clumsy. The eggs are wrapped up in a scarf, not rolling about and not likely to fall out. The two quart jars are filled with fresh, raw milk and are lying on their sides on the bottom of the basket, again not about to fall.
"Madame Wilcox is nearing her birthing time, so I assisted in getting her children up and off to school, then made breakfast for her and her grandmother. Her grandmama is from Quebec, and of course being Parisian, my French is barely acceptable" Mara paused, her voice barely able to contain her laughter.
"But still, she allows me to both speak to her, and read to her in that language as her eyes are growing dim. So I have been translating the newest Nora Roberts novel, and learning the secrets of how to make a truly great Poutine!" She's done more than that, far more, but still this is what she chooses to speak of now. Her message, and request, will have to wait until they are inside. In the mean time, the faeling slows her skip to a stroll, and the cats end their game of trying to get under and between her feet.
"Have you broken your fast yet, or is there still a chance for me to cook you something?
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branchandroot
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Date: 2015-02-04 09:39 am (UTC)A child's handmade dress for fresh food and raw milk, and the promise of more. Help weeding a garden, and tutoring the young for a portion of the harvest, extra hands to help in the orchard in autumn for a few barrels of apples, or jars of preserves; all of these things can be had if one has the skill and perseverance to see it through.
"Busy, oh very busy, my friend" she responds in French as she hands over the basket after giving Max a quick, friendly peck on the cheek. It's easier than attempting a hug, and less clumsy. The eggs are wrapped up in a scarf, not rolling about and not likely to fall out. The two quart jars are filled with fresh, raw milk and are lying on their sides on the bottom of the basket, again not about to fall.
"Madame Wilcox is nearing her birthing time, so I assisted in getting her children up and off to school, then made breakfast for her and her grandmother. Her grandmama is from Quebec, and of course being Parisian, my French is barely acceptable" Mara paused, her voice barely able to contain her laughter.
"But still, she allows me to both speak to her, and read to her in that language as her eyes are growing dim. So I have been translating the newest Nora Roberts novel, and learning the secrets of how to make a truly great Poutine!" She's done more than that, far more, but still this is what she chooses to speak of now. Her message, and request, will have to wait until they are inside. In the mean time, the faeling slows her skip to a stroll, and the cats end their game of trying to get under and between her feet.
"Have you broken your fast yet, or is there still a chance for me to cook you something?