Goodbye Lie Diaries- Miss Ella and Spring

Fernandina on Amelia Island, Florida

Late 1800s

 

Miss Ella

Miss Ella writes:  I so love spring.  The windows are open and the curtains are dancing.  The birds are happy, too, and singing so loudly outside my office, they are distracting me from my ciphering.  The proof of that is I’m writing in my diary.  I think Aqua Verdi Passenger Line will survive while I  take I few minutes to myself.  I can see the daffodils out by the Talkin’ Tree.  I love bulbs.  One day there is nothing and the next time you look, there they are, their pretty flower faces seemingly looking right at you.  I don’t know if my girls will find as much pleasure as I do gardening.   When they were children, we planted pansies together on either side of the front steps. As they are getting older, they are so busy, Breelan with her writing, Carolina with her designs and Marie—I don’t know what Marie is busy with, now that I think on it.  She is very often with Sophie Belle and I’m afraid the two of them might get into trouble the way Breelan and Nora did. Well, more Breelan, really.  Nora always seems to land on her feet. In spite of her mother, she is such a lovely young lady.   Sorry Lord, it is not for me to judge, but You have Your hands full with Aunt Noreen alone!  Bless her heart.   

 

 

Here is a photograph of my daffodil, Miss Ella. 

 I suspect it looks very much like yours! 

Jane Marie, 2014

 

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The Goodbye Lie Diaries are communications between the fictional Dunnigan characters from historic suspense Goodbye Lie series set in the 1880s and present day.  We share the same Amelia Island, Florida, same town of Fernandina, same Atlantic Ocean, same Amelia River, same weather, same growing conditions, same buildings on downtown Centre Street, well over 100 years apart ... jmm

 

A Spring Sighting ...

My father used to always say:

Spring has sprung.
The grass has riz.
I wonder where the birdies is.

(I get my love of poetry from Daddy.)

So, inspired by the rhyming word, I ventured out into our courtyard garden to do a little first of the season weeding. It was then I saw it - a snake skin. I guess the slithering creatures somehow or other shed their skins like we ladies peel off our panty hose.

Since I'm not a big fan of these critters, I ran into the house to fetch my husband, Bruce. He was balancing the checkbook. He's not a fan of that, so willingly set it aside to assist his semi-distraught wife. Out we go, me following closely behind in the event I need to climb his body like a ladder and balance on his shoulders, should we see the owner of said skin pass by.

Bruce gets close, too close for my taste. He looks, he sees, he starts laughing. When a woman sees the man she loves guffawing in the face of venomous death, well, she just puffs up with pride at his pure and massive bravery. I am about to praise my personal hero when he says, "Oh darling," quite casual-like. Despite his giggles, his voice is not trembling with fear in any fashion.

"Yes, my conqueror of the universe."

"That's no snake skin. That's the sheathing off the old bungee cord you used last year to secure the trellis to the fence."

I stand firm. "Is too!"

"Look here," he defends. "Look at the rusty S-hook where you connected both ends."

Rats! He's right. BUT, since I thought this "skin" was the real deal, I give myself mucho points toward my reptile aversion therapy. Bruce, negative 3 in the hero department.