Under the Arbor

He'd promised to be here ages ago; how long could she reasonably sit in the arbor and pretend to sketch before someone came looking for her and discovered that her pages were blank? She quickly made a few marks on a page; it was no good, she really didn't like drawing and everyone knew it. At least the arbor was shady and cool; she leaned back and closed her eyes. If anyone did come by, it would look as though she had fallen asleep.

Was that a spider? She quickly opened her eyes and rearranged her skirt, inspecting it for insects. That was the problem with the outdoors: bugs. One never knew what would crawl up from the ground and secret itself in her clothes. She quickly got up and inspected the perennial beds; she wished that she had brought a basket and a knife with her to cut a few stems for her room.

She took one last turn under the arbor; the grapes were not ripe, it was time to leave.

© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel

Sterling silver, lampwork by Donna Millard, freshwater pearls. Hand fabricated.