My apologies for the long delay in posting. To be fair I will do my best to post 2 additional serials this week. Thanks and enjoy!
A dark silhouette of the Victorian boathouse bobbed up and down in the distance as Mr. Klemmens and the Widow Sabishane heaved the tiny rowboat to shore, banking it on the pitch-colored sand. Once the boat was at a safe distance from the tide the Widow walked up the beach, her floral dress clinging to her legs, snapping in the wind as she looked up at the jungle that stood towering before them. Through the thicket she observed tall coconut Palms swaying in the wind, their bounty dropping sporadically to the ground and rolling down the beach to greet her. Deeper still grew patches of bright green bamboo which crisscrossed competitively over neighboring plants. She could see brightly colored fruit-bearing Jambu trees and wild climbing vines; their creeping appendages desperately trying to wrap themselves around every living thing.
From where she was standing the Widow could just see the Southern side of the island. Here, a gorgeous lagoon glistened in the sun and stilted mangroves grew tall, their aerial roots drawing in the nutrients of the crystal clear water. "Oh Mr. Klemmens, isn't this one of the most beautiful islands you have ever seen?" gushed the Widow. The usually irritable cat trotted up beside her and faintly smiled. "It most certainly is Sabishane. Now, shall we press on?" The Widow looked down at her feline companion and frowned. "You don't appreciate very much, do you Mr. Klemmens?" she said. "I appreciate lots of things Madame. Like, a fat herring for dinner, or a day-long nap in the sun." argued Mr. Klemmens. "I think you mean you appreciate what satisfies your urges, correct?" said the Widow, taking a handful of sand and watching intently as the grain slowly sifted through her fingers.
The giant cat thought for a moment, then nodded his great orange head. "Why yes, I suppose I do." he said firmly, not expecting any argument. "Well that's just too bad." said the Widow Sabishane sadly, as she clapped her sandy hands on her dress and began to walk towards the treeline. "It's too bad that you don't realize what will truly benefit you in the long run." she said as she trailed off into the distance. Mr. Klemmens stood still for a moment, trying to understand the Widow's words before quickly scurrying off to join her.
As they traveled through the jungle Mr. Klemmens walked in front of the Widow, hacking away at the thick vines and lush vegetation with his scimitar. "What did you mean on the beach, what you said about not realizing what will benefit me in the long run?" Mr. Klemmens called back to the Widow, trying hard not to sound too concerned. The Widow Sabishane, smiling wide as she lightly touched almost every plant in her path, stopped walking and sat down. Mr. Klemmens turned completely around and looked at the Widow confused, "What are you doing?" he asked. The old woman slid the basket off of her arm and sat it on the ground next to her. "Having breakfast, isn't it obvious?" she said, as she opened the lid and began taking out an astonishing assortment of foods.
Mr. Klemmens' twisted his whiskers in frustration, "But we're in the middle of the jungle!" he shouted. "Oh? I hadn't noticed." said the Widow with a heavy layer of sarcasm, "Now be quiet and sit down. Or would you prefer I ignore your question?" The orange and gold cat sheathed the old sword he had been using to hack away at the impeding jungle and sighed as he sat down opposite the Widow. Soon she began to lay out the food she had prepared aboard the boathouse. She first brought out a large plate of mustard-crusted, roast potatoes with chopped shallots and garlic sprinkled generously on top. Next she pulled out a heaping plate of sausages whose casings were hand-stuffed with a mix of feta cheese, spinach and minced pork. Lastly, the Widow reached deep into the basket and produced a small box of scones which had she had baked with an assortment of currants, dried cranberries, raisins, chocolate chips, chopped nuts, and even coconut. Each scone had been topped with clotted cream and then drizzled lightly with honey.
Mr. Klemmens' mouth began to water as he stuck his paw out to grab one of the more plump looking sausages; it's skin cracked and golden and dripping with juices. The Widow moved with great speed, slapping Mr. Klemmens' paw away from the plate and giving him a stern look. "Ow! What the Devil was that for?" he cried out, pulling his paw to his chest and licking it tenderly "Appreciation." said the old Widow lightly as she held up the plate of potatoes and breathed in through her nose heavily, smiling like a crazed baboon. "Aahh! Mmm! That smells wonderful Mr. Klemmens! Just wonderful!" Mr. Klemmens flashed her a quick and unconvincing smile, "Oh yes, very nice indeed!" as he reached out for a potato. Slap! Again the Widow struck the cat's outstretched paw. "Stop it! In the name of Fritti Tailchaser, Sabishane! Can I eat or not?"
Picking up the plate of sausages the Widow deeply inhaled the aroma and smiled. "Once you appreciate the meal, you may eat the meal." Mr. Klemmens sat slumped over, raising his paws up over his head. "Well how do I do that without tasting it first?" The old woman blinked in surprise. "By observing it my ravenous little friend. The first step in learning how to appreciate anything of great importance is to observe it. How it looks, how it smells, how it feels; what makes it important Mr. Klemmens? And how will you know if you devour it on sight? How will you see it for what it really is if you do not stop to take it in?" Mr. Klemmens looked at her curiously. "Take this jungle for instance." She began again. "In this moment, it is rare and it is beautiful, but before the world was as developed as it is now, there used to be thousands of them just like it, all across the globe. Do you think the loggers who chopped them down to make room for parking lots, or the businessmen who drew up the contracts for large sums of money, saw them for what they were? They couldn't Mr. Klemmens; they didn't take the time to. They were all too busy looking for the end result and the fastest buck. Do you think a commercial fisherman appreciates the beauty of his 10-ton catch?" said the Widow as she sat back, wiping her hands on her dress and folding them across her lap. "You, Mr. Klemmens, are very much like these individuals. You live for the end result and not for the moment. You wish to eat, to fill your belly. You want to walk, to get where you are going. You must stop and you must observe. That, is lesson one."
Mr. Klemmens sat for a long moment and thought on the Widow's words. When he felt he had waited long enough, he cautiously stretched out his paw out for the plate of potatoes. When he realized she would not swat him, Mr. Klemmens grabbed the plate by its sides and glared at the potatoes intently. He looked at the golden brown mustard flakes clinging to the skin, at the tiny pieces of chopped garlic, and the light brown surface where the fire had been close to the skin. Slowly, he realized the effort that had gone into preparing each and every potato, the love and the care. He picked one up and brought it to his tiny pink nose. He held it there for a moment, unsure of himself, then dismissed it with a reassuring glance at the Widow and breathed in the lofty aroma.
As the deep and pungent smells filled his nostrils a burst from of each of his senses overpowered him. Hundreds of different smells flooded his mind, bringing back a myriad of memories with his family and friends who had all been long dead, and of the meals they had once shared together as kittens. He shut his eyes tightly and there, in his mind's eye, were instances of his life playing like an old silent film. He smelled the crackling fire used to roast the potatoes as faces floated before him like seared memories. His mother and father, laughed around a campfire after a day of hunting lessons in the tall grass. The mustard flakes, sweet and spicy, reminded him of Dr. Rupert Sabishane's beloved deviled eggs and the young cat's first Christmas shared between the three of them, only months after Mr. Klemmens has lost his entire family. Each smell brought back another powerful memory and they each stemmed from the simple scent of a roasted potato. After a while, Mr. Klemmens opened his small yellow eyes and blinked back a tear of deep nostalgia and longing. The Widow smiled affectionately at her friend. "Now you see my dear Mr. Klemmens. Now you see."
No comments:
Post a Comment