They looked like blackberries to me, but Grandma always called them dewberries. I googled to see and while similar, blackberries are slightly sweeter and dewberries are larger and usually ripen sooner. She used them to make cobblers. They grew on the fence that separated her house from the neighbor’s place. In the summertime when we went to visit, my sisters and I spent a lot of time sampling the fruit and dodging the little old lady who lived next door. We’d hear the squeak of the screen door and she’d holler out “You kids, get out of them berries!!” Grandma always told us to pay her no mind. “There are plenty enough berries to go around.” All I know is, we spent week with berry juice stains on our fingers.
After such a cool, wet spring in east Texas, it doesn’t feel like it should be summer already. And I never thought I’d say this but I’m ready for warmer weather, less humidity and sunshine! (Note to self: Remember that when I’m complaining about the heat in a month or two.)
Truth of it is I love the change. I’m always ready to move to the next season. So I’ll be packing away sweaters and jackets, getting out capris, summer shirts and sandals, digging out my quick easy recipes, and cleaning up the grill. I plan on making lots of sun tea and salads. Break out the tiki lamps and dust off the porch furniture.
It’s been a crazy spring. Not only is everything blooming late, but I almost missed getting a shot of the Spirea because of the hail storm we had. A few years ago when my daughter planted it, it was nothing but a twig!
Calebth was
beside himself with joy. At sunup tomorrow, he’d be leaving Raintown, the only
home he’d ever known, in the company of the greatest Ranger of all times. He
couldn’t believe his luck.
Never mind
that Owen had only consented to let him accompany them after he blurted out that
he knew a shortcut to the dragon’s lair that would let them get there before
any of the other bounty hunters arrived.
“You can go
with us that far and no farther.”
“But–”
“No buts.
Take it or leave it.” And that was the end of that.
But Calebth
had a plan. He’d make himself so useful that Owen would see he couldn’t get
along without him. And once that happened, he’d figure out a way to talk Owen into
training him to use the sword.
When he
went to bed that night, he couldn’t sleep a wink. And no wonder! Every time he
thought about what tomorrow would bring, his heart began to pound, and his
stomach quivered with anticipation.
“No, Ma’am.”
“You’d
better not. They’ll be leaving first thing in the morning and good riddance.
Things can get back to normal.”
“Yes,
Grannie.” He didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Especially since
this would be their last evening together for who knows how long.
He jumped
out of bed and ran to the window. His heart sank when he saw Owen and his
companions leaving without him! How could he do such a thing? He’d promised
that Calebth could go with them as far as the cave. And rangers never lied.
When Calebth
didn’t put in an appearance, Owen must have thought he’d changed his mind. He
dressed in a hurry, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and pulling his grandfather’s sword from under the mattress. He crept
downstairs, grabbed a couple loaves of day-old bread, fruit, and sausage, and
left a note on the table to Grannie, telling her that he loved her and not to
worry about him before running out the door and down the road.
Never mind
that Owen had only consented to let him accompany them after he blurted out that
he knew a shortcut to the dragon’s lair that would let them get there before
any of the other bounty hunters arrived.
“You can go
with us that far and no farther.”
“But–”
“No buts.
Take it or leave it.” And that was the end of that.
But Calebth
had a plan. He’d make himself so useful that Owen would see he couldn’t get
along without him. And once that happened, he’d figure out a way to talk Owen into
training him to use the sword.
When he
went to bed that night, he couldn’t sleep a wink. And no wonder! Every time he
thought about what tomorrow would bring, his heart began to pound, and his
stomach quivered with anticipation.
At supper,
his Grannie had noticed. “What’s wrong with you? You’re as jumpy as a hog
during butchering season. You haven’t let those rangers fill your head with
nonsense, have you?”
“No, Ma’am.”
“You’d
better not. They’ll be leaving first thing in the morning and good riddance.
Things can get back to normal.”
“Yes,
Grannie.” He didn’t want to get into an argument with her. Especially since
this would be their last evening together for who knows how long.
Calebth
finally fell into a deep sleep just before dawn, waking with a start at the
sound of a goat bleating.
He jumped
out of bed and ran to the window. His heart sank when he saw Owen and his
companions leaving without him! How could he do such a thing? He’d promised
that Calebth could go with them as far as the cave. And rangers never lied.
When Calebth
didn’t put in an appearance, Owen must have thought he’d changed his mind. He
dressed in a hurry, slinging his knapsack over his shoulder and pulling his grandfather’s sword from under the mattress. He crept
downstairs, grabbed a couple loaves of day-old bread, fruit, and sausage, and
left a note on the table to Grannie, telling her that he loved her and not to
worry about him before running out the door and down the road.
Ollie
LLeon
Lleroy
Chapter 2 – Episode 1
Miles away in his lava castle on top of a volcano, the evil mage, Morogon, sat on his throne in his chamber brooding. He had sent for the goblin brothers and was waiting for them to appear.
After a
loud bang and the sound of something falling, the massive double doors opened,
and three goblins stumbled inside, shaking in their boots. They were sure they were
in some kind of trouble. They’d been arguing over which of them was to blame
all the way to the mage’s chambers.
Ollie, the
oldest of the three, puffed up his chest with false bravado. “Whatever it is, Lord
Morogon, we are innocent. We had nothing to do with it.”
Lleroy, the
goblin in the middle, pointed to his brother. “He spoke the truth, my lord.”
The youngest,
Lleon, nodded rapidly. “Aye that he did, that he did.”
The mage sighed
and pressed his fingers to his forehead, wondering if this was such a good idea
after all. “My sources tell me you’ve been spending a lot of time down at the
tavern, bragging to anyone who will listen that you are dragon trackers. Is
that true?”
“Umm—something
like that, Lord Morogon. Hard to recall my exact words.” Ollie swallowed and
hung his head. “We’ve been drinking a lot of ale since we lost our jobs at the quarry.”
“Did you or
did you not claim to be the best when it came to finding and killing the
beasts?”
“Oh. Well.
Umm—I may have said something like that.”
Lleroy jabbed
Lleon with his elbow and muttered out of the side of his mouth. “What he meant was we’re the only
dragon trackers around.”
“Aye that we
are. That we are.”
Lord
Morogon held up his hand, and the brothers fell silent. “Be that as it may, I
have a job for the three of you.”
I’m holding my breath, but it looks like the nasty weather is finally gone and spring is here to stay! Maybe it’s me but everything seems to be late this year. The crabapple tree in my front yard is finally budding out. I’m hoping my spirea bush will bloom next.
Seems as though spring is never going to arrive. The last freeze got the trees brave enough to bud. So, right now the only bright spot in the landscape is the jonquils giving us the hope of more to come.
Chapter 1 – The Journey Begins (part 2) This episode picks up where the last one left off. I’m sure you can see a LOTR influence as well as “How To Train Your Dragon.” Writing this story has been a fun adventure.
“You might know.” The trio probably wanted
to order a meal. Calebth sighed and got
to his feet, making his way over, all ready to rattle off an explanation as to
why they’d get nothing but ale this time of day. Halfway there, he stopped dead
in his tracks.
A dwarf with a scar that ran down one side of his face, barely missing an eye,
barreled over to a table by the door and sat down so hard it’s a wonder the
bench didn’t splinter into kindling. “I don’t care what ye say. I’m starving.
Ma belly thinks my throat’s been cut.”
One of his companions, a tall, slender elf with braids in her hair, rolled her eyes and joined him. “How could you be so hungry? You ate three rabbits for breakfast and washed them down with a gallon of goat’s milk.”
He patted his rotund belly and grinned.
“It takes a lot to keep this physique. Besides, folks have been talking about
this place. It’s got a four-star rating.
They continued their debate while the
third member of their party, a tall man dark-haired man, took a seat with his
back to the wall and glanced around the room. Something about him caught Calebth’s attention. Not his appearance so
much. More the way he carried himself. Quiet. Watchful. Piercing eyes. Tension
coiled through the man’s body like a spring as though he was ready for trouble
at any minute.
No farmer or merchant. Not even a soldier.
Something else. Calebth gasped and
swallowed when he realized he was standing face to face with Owen, the greatest
Ranger of all times. What were the chances?
His stomach twisted when the ranger spoke
to him, but his heart was thudding so loud he didn’t hear a word.
The dwarf waved a hand in front of Calebth’s face. “Are ye deaf,? Did ye not hear
what Owen said?”
The elf frowned. “Don’t be so hard on the boy, Floren.”
Calebth stuttered. “I’m sorry, sire. What
did you say?”
“Ale all around.”
The boy backed away and ran into the
kitchen where Granny was stirring something in a kettle over the fire.
“You’ll never believe who just came in.”
“Some Johnny come lately, looking for
food? What does he think this is? An all-day buffet?
No—well,
yes.” He sighed in frustration. “It’s
Owen. The Ranger! Can you believe it?”
“Oh,
him.” She wasn’t impressed. “He must be here to deal with the dragon.”
“What dragon?”
“The one Cedric told me about when he delivered
vegetables this morning. It’s been holed up in an abandoned Goblin’s cave for
the past week or two. Stealing livestock and wreaking havoc in general. So the
farmers got together and posted a reward.”
“Seriously?”
She nodded. “Twenty gold coins to whoever
gets rid of it.”
Calebth rubbed his hands together. He had
an idea. As soon as word got out, there’d be bounty hunters swarming the hills,
looking for the cave. And he knew a shortcut. He could lead Owen and his
friends there. Surely they’d be so grateful they’d led him squire for them.
Nothing like good fortune to make people
agreeable.
With that in mind, he talked Granny into letting him serve them a fresh loaf of
bread and bowls of stew along with the ale he poured.
“I don’t know why. It’s not like those rascals
deserve it. They do what they do because they
think it’s fun, not because they’re
trying to be noble.”
“What if it was Pops? I’d like to think
someone took pity on him from time to time when he was traveling and gave him a
home cooked meal.” Long ago, Calebth’s
grandfather had been a ranger.
She didn’t say another word, but he
noticed she also added butter and honey to the tray. When Calebth brought the
food to the table, he told the three of them about the dragon. “And, I know a
shortcut to the cave. I’d be glad to take you there. On one condition. Let me
join you on your journey.”
The dwarf
swallowed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “You’d only be another
mouth to feed.”
The elf
glared at him. “Don’t be so hard on the boy, Floren. He could be a big help.”
“That’s a
thought, Misa.” He scrubbed the side of his face. “Can you cook?”
Calebth
prayed his Granny wasn’t listening from the kitchen. “Of course I can. I made
the mutton stew you’re eating. And baked the bread.”
Floren
smacked his lips and rubbed his stomach. “How are you at preparing dragon
meat?”
“Is food
all you think about?” Misa tossed her braid over her shoulder.
“What d’ye
mean by that?”
“It’s all
you ever talk about.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Own slammed
his mug down on the table and shut them both up. He poured himself another
drink and eyed Calebth. “Thanks for the offer, kid. But it wouldn’t work out.
You’re a little young. And besides, I don’t have the time to teach you.”
“Please,
Sire. There are other things I’m good at
besides food.” The boy wracked his brain, desperately trying to come up with
something. “I-I can tend to your animals. Do your laundry. Polish your boots.
Anything it takes as long as you to teach me how to be a ranger. It’s what I
want to be more than anything. I’ve been dreaming about it ever since I heard
about your adventures.”
Owen raised
his voice. “You don’t understand, boy. What we do isn’t just fun. It’s dangerous.”
Written and illustrated by my twelve-year-old grandson with a little help from me. This is a learning experience for both of us. He’s learning what it takes to write a book, and I’m learning how to point him in the right direction without stifling his imagination. We plan to post it in episodes as the story progresses. Let us know what you think. We’d love to hear from you.
Calebth – a young boy who dreams of adventure
Chapter 1 – The Journey Begins
Calebth smothered a yawn as he lugged the wooden bucket full of scraps left over from the midday meal out to the pen full of pigs behind the tavern. Since his Granny took over Meats and Grains customers had been coming from far and wide. Word had spread that the new owner of the tavern in Raintown could cook up a mighty tasty meal.
He couldn’t
complain. Business had been brisk. There hadn’t been a dull moment in the day.
If he wasn’t clearing the tables or washing dishes or scrubbing pots and pans,
he was hauling bath water emptying slop jars or changing sheets in the rooms to
rent upstairs.
The busier
it was, the more coins filled the bag Granny behind the loose bricks of the
hearth in the kitchen. Granny counted them by candlelight late at night after
locking up. The less they had to pinch pennies. Or worry about paying the bills
Granny could afford to pay for other things they needed. Like the clothes and shoes he had the pesky habit of outgrowing. The visit to the dentist when he developed a persistent toothache. Or the herbs from the apothecary to ease her painful joints. She even gave him spending money on fun things like an occasional visit to the fair for spun sugar candy or a front seat ticket to see the juggling act.
Still, he sighed. Not that he didn’t appreciate their good fortune. He remembered how it was when they had to scrape by. But lately, life had been less and less fun and more and more work.
He’d
complain to Granny, only it wouldn’t do any good. She worked harder than he
did. Got up earlier and went to bed later. But he didn’t understand. What good
did it do to be making so much money if they couldn’t enjoy any of it? Even
just a little.
Lately, the boy had spent a lot of time daydreaming. While he slaved away, working from sun up to sun down, doing chores that never seemed to end, he had an inspiration.
If things kept going like they were, he’d be making more than just spending money. He’d started his own stash. So far he didn’t have enough coins to rub together, but he had plans When he’d saved enough, he’d leave the tavern behind and do what he’d always wanted to do. Go on an adventure.
By the time he finished feeding the animals and got back inside, the tavern was deserted. Lunch hour and come and gone, leaving a short lull before customers started trickling back in for supper. He’d done everything Granny asked. For the moment his time was his own.
Calebth hurried over to the nook beside the hearth, in the hopes of catching a little shuteye. It was warm and cozy. The one place Granny couldn’t see when she poked her head into the room looking for him so she could give him another task.
He crossed
his arms, leaned back into the corner and closed his eyes, letting visions of
his future filled his head. He wanted to be a ranger just
like his grandfather had been. He even had his sword. He kept it under his
mattress, wrapped in a soft cloth. It was a beautiful thing. Never mind that he had no idea how to
use it. He had that all worked out.
Why not learn from the best? He’d heard stories all his life about Owen, a ranger with the reputation of being the best fighter ever. A brilliant swordsman. Afraid of nothing.
If there was only some way to track the ranger down and pledge himself to him. He could teach him how to use the sword. Never mind that he had no idea how to find Owen much less convince the man that his services as a squire would be invaluable. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.
Just as Calebth dropped off to sleep a loud noise made him jump. His eyes snapped open. Three figures stood in the open doorway silhouetted in the winter sunlight.
It’s no secret I’m a Kevin Costner fan. Not for his looks (even though he has dreamy eyes) or his voice (a raspy midwestern twang) or any physical trait. I like the way he brings his characters to the screen. He usually plays a loner, someone who lives life his own way, hesitant to speak his mind yet firm in his beliefs.
Open Range is a fine example of this. He wrote, co-produced and starred in the 2003 film. It’s the story of open range cattlemen driving their herd cross country. Along the way, they encounter a vicious land baron who hates open rangers. He kills one of their hands and leaves the other for dead. The trail boss, Robert Duvall, pursues justice. But Costner’s character, Charley Waite is trying to overcome his violent past and wants no part of the fight.
One of my favorite parts of the movie is one of the scenes between Charley and the doctor’s sister (Annette Bening). They recognize the good in each other and during the course of the movie, they fall in love. But he tells her he isn’t good enough because of the things he’s done. That’s when she says “People get funny ideas, about what they are or did. They can’t see what they can be.”
I wish I had a dollar for every time I cooked a pot of beans and baked a skillet or cornbread. Serve them with jalapeno pepper or sliced onion and drown the cornbread in butter. Comfort food.
Open Range is a classic western with beautiful scenery and a touching love story.
Beans and Cornbread
FOR THE BEANS:
4 cups Dry Pinto Beans.
4 slices Thick Bacon (can Also Use Salt Pork, Or Ham Hock, Or Diced Ham)
Susan A. Royal 