April 5
Monday, April 5, 2010
Another gorgeous morning. Fields of white mist under a rising gold sun cloaked in the remains of the night’s storm. And as little as Collette could smell of anything decent, even she could smell the new blossoms and buds of the flowering trees.
Puck’s nose was looking slightly better that morning.
He donned his ‘Life is short; eat great bread’ shirt from Rose’s old job at Olga’s Kitchen. And once at the house, after spilling a bag of pretzels on the kitchen floor, he helped Francis burn the inedible remains in the wood-burning stove.
In the middle of the morning, a tornado siren was heard, just at 11:00, which Collette, Carrie-Bri, and Linnea noted was two hours late, even though it was the right day.
“That was one of my childhood fantasies,” said Carrie. “Back then, I thought that the people who operated the sirens had to climb them to turn them on. And of course, with all my tree-climbing skills, I knew I’d be the best climber.”
Then they discussed other unusual childhood fantasies:
For Carrie:
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football player
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downhill skier
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transported to choir via helicopter
For Collette:
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living in the middle of nowhere in Norway in a castle for the rest of her life
“We were some weird kids,” said Carrie, laughing.
Since Carrie had recently become a member of the Arbor Society, they had sent her ten trees in the mail. Puck was to inherit one of them. A redbud. And so they planted trees in the backyard until it was time for Puck’s nap.
And the wind was up.