= Memories in the Hush =

Life can be simple
Softly falls the hush
Peace is easy to find
Listen to the hush
Nothing will distract you
Silence in the hush
Love will fill your mind
Gentle is the hush

The wire door would have slammed but old Percy had nailed strips of old carpet underlay around the jam. With a short whistle George his beloved hound consented to come from his bed on the front porch and accompany him to the point.

‘Have to bring you in at night now hey old fella, that mist will get your joints like it does mine hey?’ Percy chuckled and scratched his dog’s greying head.

Under the pine on the point he set his tackle basket down by his bench and sorted out his line to cast out into the still water of the lake. George dropped himself onto the damp grass and sunk his big old head onto his paws and watched.

‘We’d better catch a few old trout for lunch Young Ella is bringing her new man up to meet me. Wonder what my Rosie would say about him?’ he decided his line was in the right place and turned to stroke the carving on the back of the bench. ‘Ah Rosie my Sweetheart, Not a day goes by that I don’t think of you a thousand times.’

He settled himself down and jiggled his line then took a deep breath as he watched the fog rise, golden in the morning sun.

He remembered coming here for the first time. Maggie had told him later how Rose was all a twitter with how she should look, she’d tried on four dresses before she finally decided on the first one. He remembered it still, palest of green with creamy lace at the cuffs of the short sleeves and turning the simple square neckline into a sweetheart shape. On closer inspection there were tiny bunches of lemon and cream flowers dotted all over the pale green. He liked how the hem swirled at her calves his palms itched now to stroke up from her feet his fingers easily encircling her ankles then to feel the plumpness again.

‘Ah Rosie my Rosie’ he sighed and jiggled his line again to remind the fish he was there.

He too had fussed a bit about his appearance. None of the Carny clobber he usually wore oh my no her father would have chased him off the premises if he’d known Percy was the barker of the Carnival. He wore his best navy Sunday suit. The other blokes teased him wondering who’d died or was getting married, pretty much the same thing to them. he wore his best shirt too, a yellow one with the collar and cuffs ironed stiff. And he wore the tie his ma had sent him two Christmases before. blue and red swirly patterns she had said was called paisley. Again the men laughed and even more so when they realised he’d shaved.

‘Dropped some blood on your tie from the nicks in yer neck there barker!’ they’d jeered and laughed.

He’d ignored them and pulled on his stetson hat. A rag brushed the worst of the dust from his boots. They had been brown but wear and saddle polish had turned them dark enough to almost be black. He didn’t have another pair anyway. Then he had walked half way around the lake to the house she had pointed out.

He remembered her giggling with her sister Maggie. The pair had been having a fine time at the Carnival that night before. Maggie was dressed in a bright red dress with her dark curly hair in bunches at her ears. A sweet kid that he could flatter without getting in to trouble while he gave sideways glances at the big sister. She was dressed in a simple yellow dress with a navy blue belt and shoes and a small navy hat with a bunch of yellow daisies pinned to one side, perched on her burnished auburn hair styled like a movie star. It struck him as strange that she should be dressed for town going to a carnival. She was doing her best to keep her sister and her white gloves clean and neat then he got them onto the ferris wheel and swung up onto the cross bar to hold the support arm and ride it standing behind them.

At the top they had exclaimed at the height and where Maggie was excitingly pointing out the lights of their house on the headland, Rose was concerned for his safety. Their eyes had locked at the top and she had not seen the vista of the lake and her town he felt he had spread before her single handedly. When the car reached the ground again he’d stepped off and jogged to the side and watched as they went round the turns the nickels of the other riders had paid for.

When they left he had walked them to their gate. Maggie had been all talk about their life and her life and friends and school and their pets and their horses. It was Maggie that had invited him to lunch the next day, an invitation he accepted although his eyes had ensnared the intriguing green irises of Rose.

When he had arrived Maggie immediately had him remove his jacket and tie and leave them on the front porch banister so he could relax and run about the farm with her. as they had passed the rear of the house Rose had walked out onto the back porch with cloth and plates to lay the large table there. He’d turned and smiled waving at her with one hand the other being tugged by the dungaree clad Maggie.

‘Bring him back whole and hearty little sister or don’t come back yourself!’ Rose had called laughing and watched her sister drag the man off through the grassy yard to the dusty farm yard.

In what couldn’t have been more than ten minutes he had been introduced to two cows one calf, dozens of chickens and ducks all seeming to have names, the yard dog and the bitch with the pups and the treasured horse, an old Clydesdale that would never again haul a high sprung buggy let alone a cart.

Percy stroked the old head beside him. George was the last pup of the last pup that bitch had. The old dog stirred and then drooped back onto his paws to sleep on. a flick of the line just to tease those sleepy fish and Percy settled back against the bench.

Lunch had been good. Fried chicken and fresh garden salad with steamed corn cobs and chilled home made lemonade. Rose had made it practically every Saturday lunch in summer ever since. No one could get chicken to taste like hers did; not even that so called Colonel!

Her father had talked cows and farming and all sorts of things and he had tried to talk the talk but then her father hit on fishing. Now that Percy could talk. They then spent a very happy hour talking about fishing swapping fishing tales and tips for catching the better fish. It was her father that sent Rose off with him for another evening at the Carnival and by the end of the evening he had kissed her on the top of that ferris wheel.

That summer was good and when the Carnival moved out they were needing a barker for Percy had stayed on at the farm learning the ways that the place ran fishing with Rosie’s father in the mornings and strolling with Rosie in the evenings. He married her in the fall when her hair shone the colours of the trees and hickory smoke filled the air.

Ah how he loved life with his Rosie. They had Ben then Jake then sweet young Ella. Ben married and joined the Marines, they had three boys now. Jake was working hard on a trawler in the Atlantic. He barely saw him but received regular letters home. And now Ella his sweet Ellie, she’d helped him nurse Rosie and now had her own fella. They lived in the big smoke she was working at a big law firm as a receptionist. This fella was a lawyer on the up and up. he heard the car door close and the happy shout. Getting up he turned to see them at the house.

‘Ah Rosie if only you could see him in his best navy Sunday suit.’ Percy chuckled and waved as Ella saw him through the trees. Taking the lad’s hand she hauled him at the half run of youthful exuberance to meet up at the point.

‘Caught anything yet Dad?’
‘Nah, just teasing them a bit.’ Percy replied her receiving her kiss and the lad’s hearty handshake.
‘Hi Marmie’ Ella said softly stroking the carving of the rose in the bench, warn smooth with all the loving caresses.

He sat again with the young fella sitting and chatting about his fishing exploits and about the ways he found he could catch a decent fish. He reminded Percy of himself as a lad and as he watched Ella trying to fish she could be Rosie all over again.

‘Ah Rosie you would like this young lad.’ Percy thought to himself as he drifted into sleep. ‘There you are my Sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you.’

Wander through the memories
whispered in the hush

= Memories in the Hush =


Frankston, Australia

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Artist's Description

A writing inspired by the perfect shot of Headland by the very talented Micmac

How wonderful life would be there!
Enjoy! ♥

Artwork Comments

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