Morning all and happy Monday. I hope everyone had a fabulous weekend. I turned the bags of blackberries I collected from my bushes into jam. The few remaining berries I left for the birds, who swarmed the bushes in a rather terrifying manner. It was a very Alfred Hitchcock moment. But I have blackberry jam. So maybe that even’s out. Regardless, lets jump into the morning prompt. Timers set and off we go.
I’m not sure where this is going but I am guessing family secrets and drama. Need to think about the town and the landscape.
Monday, July 22nd: The sea was churned into frothing waves.
The sea was churned into frothing waves. It danced in the weak sunlight, the whitecaps frothing in little white peaks. The surrounding water looked almost black. Even though it was nearly midday what little sun filtered through the heavy cloud cover was rapidly fading ass the storm approached. As always, watching the storm approach, she felt as though she ought to do something.
It was an old impulse born of too many years at the shipyard. There was always something to tie down, to drag inside, to secure and protect when a storm approached. Now, there was nothing. The ship yard went to one of her cousins while she inherited the house on the hill. She wrapped her arms around herself.
It was a strange situation the family found themselves in. Her great grandparents had seventeen children all who lived to adult hood and her grandparents had a further sixteen. The family once seemed a legion of elderly aunties and uncles. When she was small she remembered the large gatherings and it seemed as though there were old people everywhere. She remembered helping her cousins haul out extra chairs from various rooms in the house to take out to the yard when they gathered. It was like a scavenger hunt, each room in the house housting would be searched, chairs identified and hauled out.
Then of course had been the reverse when everyone was gone and they tried to remember where each chair came from. Her parent; s generation had not been as fruitful and if she could could all of her cousins on one hand. As the older generations died out, properties were portioned. Everyone of them inherited one house on their own and they all had the sad duty of clearing out the others, repairing them and selling them off. There were far more houses than people.
The shipyard went to Hank. While she had no issues with that and agreed with the decision when it was made, it felt strange to no longer have a connection. Growing up all of them worked in the yard. Now, Hank had staff. As she turned away from the window, she wondered if the others missed it or were relieved when they no longer had any responsibility towards it.
The house she inherited, was always her favorite. When her Aunt Olive died and left it to her, she was thrilled. Mike’s wife Catherine made some snide remarks as she thought the house should go to them. Mike had inherited Uncle Calvin’s place and adored it, putting his roots down deep and refusing to leave. Catherine saw Olive’s house as grander and more important. Since Catherine also saw herself as grander and more important she was not happy to learn Olive’s will. It had been tense on the few occasions when they gathered but things were settling down now.
‘Not that there are many gatherings,’ she thought.
Ten til Midnight 