"THE OLD WATERING CAN"
The atmosphere became steamier and more sultry with every raindrop that fell. The once brilliant sun lay behind the dark moisture-laden sky. The growling dog days of August had arrived in force.
It sat in isolation on the wall that led down into gardens of the old, but well loved estate. It had been there untouched for several months. Leaves were reaching under and through the handle where loving hands had not long ago grasped it. It felt thirsty for the clear, fresh water that normally filled it to the brim.
The summertime rains had replaced the need it served. The foliage was growing lush without it. Where once it had shone with a vibrant green coat, it now lay in dull and dirty attire. It longed for attention. It waited.
On a particularly humid day near the end of August, the eleven year old granddaughter of the owner of the property came to visit her grandmother. Between showers she played games alone in the upper gardens. She spent hours acting out stories she had read by playing several characters herself. After several days exploring the grounds she came upon the stairs that led to the lower gardens. As she approached the steps her attention was caught by an old watering can.
Her name was Claire and she was sensitive and intuitive by nature. She was an only child with few friends, but delighted in the company of nature, history and her own imagination. She loved heirlooms and the stories they carried within them. The old can seemed to scream out her name and her solitary play came to a stop. She reached out.
As her hand touched the surface she was overcome with a sudden deluge of emotions and thoughts. Indescribable love, feelings of limitlessness, grace, nostalgia and an overwhelming feeling of deja vu washed over her. As she brought the watering can to her side she found herself in another of her make believe story games. However this time she saw the other characters. There was her great-great-grandmother whose picture she had seen in the hallway of her grandmother's house and next to her were her three children. What was happening? Claire began to run clutching the lovely watering can to her chest.
Forty years later she was watering her garden with her beloved heirloom and they felt peace, happiness, contentment.
Prayer Girl
18 comments:
Very evocative setting.
Dear Girl, thank you so much for your visit. Loved your story. You did a great job. It is a wonder I did not become alcoholic because of my dad, but as a co-dependent I was just as sick at one time. Thank God I am still learning at 72. Blessings
QMM
smiles. you created a beautiful setting and an endearing little claire...and left me with smiles. your magpie is wonderful....
great write prayer girl....heirlooms do scream out at us....blessings...bkm
very interesting perspective! love it!
Very nice!!
such a nice read!! i enjoyed every word!
How wonderful her family heirloom brought with it family members to cherish forever.
"...growling dog days of August." Love that!
PG! Your FIRST Magpie...and it is a fine piece with "development" of generations of characters! GOOD JOB!
Now, wasn't that absolute FUN?
Love.
I'll be looking for one next week...
BEAUTIFUL !!! Sometimes, those old, rusty pieces offer a sense of calm that is unmatched! And these objects go on to be the most faithful companions!
It was a lovely read...nostalgic and very captivating too... you gave the watering can some character!!!
Touching and magical.
Good story. I wonder if she continued to feel the presence of those who had gone before every time she touched the watering can. It's good to treasure old things. I sometimes wonder whose hands have touched the objects in this house.
What a beautiful story. It's amazing how emotions are attached to objects and can be transferred. It explains why family heirlooms are so special.
Nature, history and imagination ... what else could we possibly need? Nice effort for your very first Magpie!
nicely done, prayer girl :) just imagine how frightening that really would have been but then, connections like this can be startling!
What a sweet tale.
Those growling dogs days are panting at Willow Manor.
Magical!
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