M&R: Sleep My Baby

Lying squarely on his broad back, staring quizzically into the pitch black Stan asked his wife, “Did I just say, ‘…the un-reined manifestation of my buddy’s subconscious.’”  

Roxanne stopped giggling for a moment and quipped “Sure did.”   Then cuddled up closer to her awakening husband.

“Why did I say that?”

“Because I asked you why your buddy’s dog was whining.”  Stan could hear Gizmo whimper now.  The soft complaints came from the boathouse adjoining the cabin.  “Her mate is gone with John and the boys up the river.  Do you think she’s lonely? Oh, the poor little dear.” Cooed big-hearted Roxanne.  “But we just can’t let her in.”  Their family lovingly described Gizmo’s mate as “a big drooling monster”.  Gizmo herself though only twenty pounds possessed coarse curly fur that made her look twice as big.  Within the grip of her ebony locks lay fallen spruce twigs, dried up sheaths of grass, moss; both from the muskeg and fallen from the alders and the aroma not of the scented woodlands and alpine mountains, but rather of the potent aroma of the muskeg pools she’d swam in several times that day.  Plus this close to the ocean, it still rained regularly and both dogs were constantly drenched.  “I’ll go tell her she is a good dog, but to go lay down.” 

Scan Scamander stayed wake long enough to enjoy the site of his wife donning a shear enticing robe and with hips swaying slip from the room.  The last thing he saw was his wife’s womanly form silhouetted against the light of the oil lamp strategically placed in the hall way for the benefit of all the occupants of their summer place.  Maybe he heard an ancient lullaby, “Sleep my baby, and let the sea sleep, let our trouble sleep: let some change appear.”   The next thing he heard for certain was two hours later; an urgent soft howl.  Stan rose naked from the bed like a puppet yanked up by its strings.

“Maybe she needs to go outside.” Roxanne worried aloud, but in her husky whisper clearly something else worried her. 

Stan’s massive right hand lifted the lamp from its niche in the wall as with heavy step he passed.  “Good girl.  Good girl Gizmo.” he whispered encouragingly as his left hand engulfed the door knob. 

The boat house was empty of course and yes there were a couple of piles of dog stuff  there.  Stan didn’t know that on the rare occasions Gizmo has accidents she was normally embarrassed and sorrowful.  She would keep her head down and eyes averted.  But this night, her entire shaggy body wagged at the arrival of the giant of a man.  They went for a stroll around the grounds in the light of a half moon and sheer over-cast that veiled half the Alaskan sky. Gizmo curled up in her bed after their walk, Stan cleaned up her messes, washed his hands…several times and returned to bed. 

Roxanne burst into tears when she realized that the “poor little dog” had needed to go outside not to be told by her Aunty Roxanne “to go lay down”.  Stan comforted her and absently blamed himself aloud and he returned to sleep as easily as a river flows down its course. 

In the morning, Stan rose from his bed early.  Most days of his life he spent the morning swimming in the Karamenderes River back home.  But, the Stikine would do just fine.  The “poor little dog” walked cockily beside him as Stan headed for the glacial water.  She circled, sniffed and growled at spots in the grass he’d cut yesterday, but it wasn’t until they reached the sandy bank, that he understood her behavior.  There were tracks in the sand, they were too large to be Gizmo’s and too many and too diverse to be old prints left by her huge mate. 

Stan’s family always kept an eye out for brown bear along the banks of the Stikine.  But, they’d never seen wolves before.

VftSW: Slugs Leave their Lair

The rain falls heavy and hard this time of year in Southeast Alaska. 

In my childhood, the sunbaked New Mexican soil couldn’t absorb a heavy rain.  The streets would flood.  The gutters would fill. And torrents gushed into all the underground burrows.  I remember earthworms squirming out of the drowning lawns onto the sidewalk, so they could breathe. 

Monday morning, here in Alaska, as I came out the back door with Derby, there were two slugs 5 feet up the wall.  What did they know that I didn’t?  Ends up what they knew was that it would rain even hard last night.  The storm grew so loud last night that I went out into the garage to comfort Derby.   

This morning Derby and I took her morning walk along a wet street in heavy fog.  From a distance we could hear either Rose or Flynn barking.  They are a pair of short-haired Yellow Labrador’s, healthy, friendly and almost white in color.  Oddly we only heard one dog sporadically barking.  Derby stopped at one point, held perfectly still, head high, looking in the direction of their yard from a spot where we had seen them before.  Nothing!  We moved on.  We stopped at the abandoned lots at the end of the street and spent some time there. 

When we headed home around the corner came their master’s pickup truck.  Apparently, the dogs knew or maybe they have really good ears and recognized the music that was booming from the cab.  I’ve seen my wife’s little Miniature Schnauzer jump up and run to the window five minutes before our truck (driven by her mistress) turned on to the street.  It’s amazing the many things us mortals miss and how often we ignore that “small still voice” that seems to come in loud and clear to all the other creatures around us.

M&R: Ugly and Foul-tongued

Orion Jr., Harmonia and their children arrived a little late to the baby shower. Harmonia braided her long, fine, blond hair back into a loose bundle. She too wore a white dress, but it covered a little more due to her complexion. When her parasol gaily slipped aside and the happy sun fell upon her willowy, ephemeral figure, the affect on her sublime features was dazzling. She dressed her daughters the same, but they had their father’s dark hair and the Sienna family’s propensity for tan skin and rowdiness. Harmonia’s was a unique beauty on the beach that day.

Orion’s mother, Maeve Sienna and Aunt Roxanne looked at him across the picnic grounds and one said, “Is he naked?” Orion dressed exactly like his brothers, but without his notoriously crisp business outfits or immaculate uniform he almost didn’t look like himself. Of course, as they strolled closer his regal bearing, Negroid features, fair skin and dark curly hair proved his identity.

His youngest brother was re-enacting his fall for the third time. Beyond their uncle’s performance Orion’s oldest daughter Sylvia and her little sister could see their cousins chasing clams far out at the tide line where the inches-deep water continued to fall.

Encouraged by Harmonia, Orion’s went to investigate his young brother’s activities. Harmonia pecked him on the check and sent him on his way. As Harmonia’s handsome husband departs someone scurried forth from the Devil’s Club. The someone had been waiting in the deep shadows of the surrounding ancient gray-boled spruce forest. Harmonia's children saw the misshapen figure behind their mother. They ran to meet their cousins as though something fanged and shaggy just snuck from the woods. Here was the ugliest thing on a beach visited by dirty, seagulls bloated on spawned out salmon carcasses. Bow-legged she was and lame in one foot; her round shoulders were stooped. She was pointy-headed and almost bald, only a scant stubble grew on her head. Unknowingly, Harmonia continued towards the picnic table where her sisters-in-law enthusiastically waved her over.

“Good morning, Harmonia!” snapped a squeamish voice behind her.

Harmonia’s eyebrows might have risen a little in surprise. In fact, her glacial blue eyes did widen a little. “Hello, Mrs. Leigh.” she cooed as she spun lightly, took the older, shorter woman under the arm and continued on their way.

“Harmony! When will you start calling me Emma?”

“Oh, you’ll always be Mrs. Leigh to me.” Harmonia added to a “Tut. Tut.” while patting her great-grandmother’s friend on the arm.

A roar of laughter and greeting burst upon the sunny landscape as Orion joined his brothers and brother-in-law.

“There is too much horseplay when Maeve’s sons are around. “ Leigh sneered as she watched the bear hugs among the men and the small children being snatched up for kisses. “I’m always afraid I’ll get knocked down.”

Harmonia’s demur expression enlivened a little as she replied. “Madam Sienna’s sons are just fine with me. And you know what my great-grandmother always said about saying negative things about people.” Then, with the sweetest smile Harmonia took a deep breath.

The aged harpy moved alongside the strolling Harmonia in fits of scurry and intermittent dragging of the lame foot. She held her sharp tongue for a moment in order to avoid the well intended, light-hearted, upbeat lengthy lecture that would follow if she didn’t desist from defaming Harmonia’s husband. Harmonia’s great-grandmother taught her this trick. Then her shrill voice burst out, “Well, I’m just saying you are lucky you didn’t have any brothers.”

Some dark emotion crossed Harmonia’s fair brow for a moment. Like some lost cloud on a “cloudless” day crossing the face of the sun. In truth, two thoughts crossed Harmonia’s mind. First, her aching regret of never having sibling or knowing her parents; a heartbreak she shared with her mother-in-law Maeve. The second darker thought was the rumors of the suspicious death of teenage Emma’s baby brother.

As though suddenly struck by something, the dwarfish woman stopped. “Orion shouldn’t let the children play so close to the water unattended. I’ll go check on them.” At which point she turned her hurried steps towards the jade green water of Fredrick Sound. She ignored the group of burly men and began calling for Harmonia’s children.

Harmonia paused in bemusement to watch the wild haired woman wander off. When she went on her way again she realized the reason for Mrs. Leigh departure; Harmonia’s dark-haired mother-in-law had joined the younger women. Maeve and Roxanne also watched “Poor Mrs. Leigh” limp towards the children. She’d become “Poor Mrs. Leigh” when Maeve discovered she had cleidocranial dysplasia, a rare genetic bone condition. Madam Sienna could be sympathetic because her own husband John had foot problems.

Beyond the sandy white beach where the men bumped chests and the women sat at picnic tables with the family’s newborns, the tidal flats consisted of cobblestone sized slimy rocks, green and rust colored seaweed, stranded jelly-fish and occasionally a wooden stake left from the Tlingit fish traps that once spanned the mouth of the little cove. Mrs. Leigh found it difficult walking as revealed by her grunts and unladylike curses. When her pinched demanding call could no longer be denied by the children, the dogs responded.

Mrs. Leigh didn’t like dogs, primarily because they were smart enough not to trust her. She didn’t like John Sienna’s dogs because they were smart enough not to betray that mistrust around witnesses. The smaller of the “Aelthristanian Griffins” leapt across the tidal flats shaking her curl covered body in the most friendly of fashion. It was only the “old family friend” that heard the growling and gnashing of fangs as she circled the cursing shrew. Jake, the big drooling midnight-black monster that terrified the trembling woman ran half way to her and then back. He actually herded the smaller children away from her. As Mrs. Leigh got closer both dogs paced back and forth to keep Leigh at bay from the children.

“I have treats.” Sounded the frustrated old lady. “Your Grand Daddy said it was okay.”

Sylvia squeezed through the dog flesh swarming and scurrying in front of the visibly shaken gray-haired woman. “Sylvia” a most unusual name for a grandchild of John Sienna, was named in honor of her lost mother and grandmother.

“Sylvia, honey. I brought treats. Oh you are growing up to be such a beautiful young woman. You look exactly like your mother at this age.”

In fact, everyone said Sylvia looked most like Grandmother Maeve of all the grandchildren, complete with the cold black eyes that kept her “godmother” at a safe distance.

“Thank you, Mrs. Leigh.”

“Oh, Sylvia why wouldn’t you call me Aunty Em?”

A smile broke across the child’s stern features as she recited the answer as her family had for five generations. Then she thanked Mrs. Leigh again, took the Tupperware of homemade cookies and promised not to let the little one’s eat too many. Her sister and elder cousins, who’d restrained the smaller children, raised a storm of “thank yous” and ran off towards the water’s edge where it was sandy again. Jake galloped and barked amongst the children as they returned to clamming. Gizmo, the smaller dog stood stock still and growling to insure the shriveled up shrew didn’t follow. Once, out of sight, the children left the container on a high rock so they couldn’t forget it. The cookies they dumped into a hole in the sand while whispering pomme empoisonnée to the younger children. Sylvia reminded them what happen to Snow White. As the dreadful story was delivered to the circle of children, one saw a clam “squirt” in the soft sand and with a shout they all joyfully returned to the chases. .

The gnarled munchkin spewed her pent up venom and anger on the men as she passed them in route to where Harmonia sat. ”Grand Daddy!” she snarled at Maeve’s husband, a man clearly younger than her. “I can’t believe you let your sons, “ here she sneers at Orion, “endanger the lives of your grandchildren!”

The group of startled, now shirtless men towering over her glanced her way as though she was a hornet suddenly buzzing too near. Roxanne’s husband looked like he might swat it. A restraining right hand fell across this man’s impossibly wide-shoulders. A consoling left hand stroked Orion’s back. Neither by his actions nor his facial expression did John Sienna indicate he’d noticed the insult.

“Thank you, Mrs. Leigh for your concern. Nathan.” He called to his ever-present, ever-protective grandson. “Please, go get the kids. I think your grandmother Maeve is going to scry for the gender of the baby.”

“Maeve!” the witch spat. “She never liked me after I filed the lawsuit to attain shares in the company.”

“Oh, she likes you. She laughed that off while it was happening.” John Sienna assured her with a crooked grin.

All the men smiled down at her likewise

“Well, it wasn’t funny to me! I lost a lot of money!”

The men huddled around her tried not to laugh in response, but once she stormed off they succumbed to their natures.

“Why do we put up with poor Mrs. Leigh?” Roxanne’s husband asked on behalf of all the other men.

“Well, “ John began. “She is Harmonia’s fairy godmother more or less. And you know how temperamental fairies can be, if you know the story of Sleeping Beauty. “ As teenagers his sons would roll their eyes when John Sienna began to retell old fairy tales and myths. They learned early to listen closely. “Sleeping Beauty didn’t have a fairy god mother at first. Her parents invited the neighboring fairies to a baby shower just like this one before she was born. They hoped one of them would volunteer. Six fairy castles stood nearby, but one was so over grown and hoary looking that everyone assumed the fairy mistress of the place was dead. Of course, no one actually checked. The five fays invited to attend the shower were happy to be included. As the family and their guest sat down to dinner, the sixth and presumably deceased fairy arrived and said, “I didn’t want to be evil, but you didn’t invite me and now I have to be.”

Thoughtful silence reigned amongst the men with the ending of Grand Daddy’s tale. The only sound was the buzz of a mosquito which finally alighted on the naked upper arm of Roxanne’s husband. He grinned as he made a show of swatting and slaying it.

Meanwhile, Harmonia joined the Siennan women. One of her sister-in-laws, while nursing her youngest, innocently asked how she and Mrs. Leigh were friends.

“When great-grandmother passed away, Mrs. Leigh and your family were the only people who continued to think of me and include me. She was the “family” I had at my wedding. Think of all she’s done for me over the years.”

In the distance they could see their children and dogs racing for the picnic tables. They went much faster than the witch’s gnarled legs could carry her. Gizmo followed the pack of excited children. Mrs. Leigh meanly kicked at the small dog. Gizmo responded by snapping at the offending foot without breaking stride. The men top-offed their beers and went to stand behind their seated wives. The children packed around their mothers’ skirts. John Sienna’s dogs now took up positions between him and the only guest outside the family. Gizmo, with hair on end, packed up until her haunches rested againsts John’s left ankle. Jake sat on John’s right foot (John flinched.) and raised his head to be petted by his master. Harmonia saved her godmother a seat. In the process of guiding the older woman to the place beside her, she took both her hands. They made quite a picture; the lithe, angelic, smiling Harmonia holding the hands and sitting next to the hoary cruel-eyed dwarf. With her hands occupied Mrs. Leigh couldn’t ask to hold any of the babies.

The expectant mother and Maeve with Roxanne’s assistance skried for the gender of the baby with the younger woman’s wedding ring. The decision was twins; one of each. Afterwards, the children ran off to play and the men refreshed their beers. At that moment of chaos; for just a moment Maeve’s black eyes met the witch’s sharp glance. It was a look of compassion.

“I feel sorry for her sometimes.” Maeve confided to her red-headed sister. “Look how their holding hands; just like us. I think sometimes she and I are a lot alike.”

“You girls are so lucky.” The harpy announced to the surrounding younger women. “The Siennans don’t believe in pre-nups so you can get a bundle when you divorce them.”

Roxanne nudged her sister and laughed silently.

“Okay! Never mind!” Maeve whispered and then laughed out loud.

M&R: Desperation

“I took the only course that desperation suggested and that of course was the wrong one.” –Casanova-

Roxanne looked up from her book, laughing silently at her “dear friend”. That’s how Jacque Casanova referred to his future readers two hundred years ago. She looked up into the handsome face of a young man returning her smile. He took that as an invitation and sat down on the bench in the airport waiting room one seat away from her.

Roxanne folded the collector-edition volume shut in her lap and scooted up a bit in her seat in anticipation of a conversation.

“Picking up or headed out?” she asked with a smile and dancing, painted eyebrows.

“I’m picking up a couple of new guys. I work on the Coast Guard Cutter “Anacapa”. You?”

“I’m picking up my sister. We’re opening our family cabin up the Stikine before everyone else gets here.”

The public address system announced that flight 65 should be landing at James A. Johnson shortly. Roxanne took the interruption to study her bench mate. The coastie struck her as a handsome young man, maybe in his early thirties. His short hair wasn’t quite the shade to be called “sandy” nor as red as as her own. The word “ginger” came to mind. He sat in profile, so she could see his tan face, light blue eyes, shortened chin and dreamy grin.

“You’ve got a smile that won’t stop, dearie. What’s up?” she asked as the announcement ended.

Chris, she’d discover later that his name was Chris, blushed, then turned his face more fully to the bright eyed, stylish, big bosomed woman he suspected was old enough to be his mother.

He leaned closer and announced, “I’ve been made an officer over in Sitka.”

Roxanne slapped her hands together as though in prayer and clapped the fingers while beaming with happiness. “Congratulations! Sitka is one of the prettiest places in the Southeast!”

Chris accepted her congratulations with a shake of his head in disbelief at his great good fortune.

“Oh!” she added hurriedly. “And congratulations on becoming an officer.”

They discussed the high cost and low availability of housing in Sitka, the attitude of his teenage children about the move and the difficulty of flying in and out of the primary town on Baranof Island. As they spoke the sun, rarely seen during the spring in the Alexander Archipelago continued his track just barely above Raven’s Roost Ridge. At this angle the sun’s rays blasted across the single runway, shot under the building’s overhang and filled the little airport waiting area with warmth and sunlight. As they spoke, Roxanne absently rubbed her chin in some subtle fascination over the fact that Chris, unlike her husband and brother-in-law, did not have a dimple in his unshaven chin.

The jet, flying low, screamed by. This was the signal for the local folks of banner-hung Petersburg to head to the airport. It would take the jet a while to taxi back to the terminal and deplane the passengers. Roxanne was confident one of them would give her and her sister a ride to where their boat was tied up.

“You are still beaming! Is this officer thing a surprise?”

“It sure is, if you know how far I’ve come.”

With a nod of her head and weep of her open upturned right hand, she ushered in his apparently oft-told tale. He told of good parents, a good family and without specifics of his rebellious youth. Roxanne nodded knowingly, thinking of her grandson Deuce. The story led to his dropping out of high school and joining the Coast Guard at seventeen.

Clutching her ample bosom Roxanne asked with a furled brow and lips pursed in woe, “How could your mother sign the papers?”

“Out of desperation, I suppose. I would've gotten in trouble. The Coast Guard was a good fit for me. I got my GED, my education and even…” here he leaned forward conspiratorially, “my masters. It’s all a miracle.” With a big smile on his face, he continued to shake his head in disbelief of his great good fortune.
Roxanne mumbled, “God be praised.” As they, both turned to watch the jet turn off the runway for the terminal. The gathering crowed moved towards the windows to watch their loved ones and neighbors disembark. Chris and Roxanne rose from their bench so their respective people could see them. With passengers lined up to board, other passengers entering the waiting area and with the hubbub of greeting and hugging; Chris and Roxanne lost track of one another. When the room eventually cleared out again, the luggage arrived. Chris and Roxanne met there and swapped name amongst the chaos around the luggage bin.

“How long till you go to Sitka?” Roxanne asked, as her sister slipped away through the throng in search of her suitcases.

“Two months; July.” Chris shouted back above the tumult as he herded his crewmen toward the exit.

She extended her right hand. He took it with his. Her left grasped his right too. “Dearie, it’s been a delight… Oh, give me a hug! Have a wonderful time in Sitka!”

They departed one another’s embrace. Roxanne’s sister wasn’t there for most of the conversation and couldn’t follow it when she was there due to the noise. Besides, Roxanne hugging perfect strangers is perfectly routine. However, as they hurried outside into the morning sunshine trying to flag down a friend for a ride, Roxanne’s sister saw tears in those emerald eyes.

“Roxanne? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, I am just desperate to tell you a wonderful story, later…”

M&R: Quiet, Distant Things

Maeve appeared out of nowhere. Her delicate long snow-white fingers of her right bejeweled hand held a small plate of lefse and krumkake from the nearby picnic table. Her left hand held a long stem wine glass half full of red. She laid them quietly on the park bench next to Roxanne.

Roxanne held the youngest of their grandchildren in her lap. Norwegian Independence day celebrations even amongst the white blossoms of the Black Cherries of Central Park were a little too rowdy for slumbering tots. She sat upright on the bench, knees together, and eyes intently on the little one. She held the child with her left hand cupped underneath the head pinning the tiny ears in a vise like grip.

Maeve chuckled at her “sister”. As many children, grandchildren as they’d raised together, and Roxanne still looked like she feared dropping one of the little darlings. Maeve laid a gentle hand on the padded shoulders of Roxanne’s bunad.

Trying to imitate her husband’s voice, Maeve said, as she’d seen and heard her husband say to Roxanne a thousand times in this situation. “Relax.”

Roxanne’s shoulder’s fell. She tossed an appreciative glance towards Maeve. A smile came to her face. Her cheeks grew rosy; she turned the sleeping toddler in her arms and settled back in her woolen vest against the wooden bench. As Maeve slipped away to tend to the older children still eating tea sandwiches and chowder, Roxanne began thinking about quiet distant things to calm herself and the grandchild.

Across the park the cupola of one of the follies shined with a bronze hue. She chuckled to herself thinking about her first husband. Rex was such a force of nature; straw-colored hair, a wrestler’s body, a perpetual grin and endless energy. She sighed in remembrance of their carefree youthful marriage. He’d suggested late one night that they go camping. She pointed out he had to be a work the next day. He answer was, “We’ll take an alarm clock.” Sleeping bags in tow they drove his little car to the top of a pyramid-shaped “cinder cone” east of town. In the dim headlights she made out the sensuous form of an ancient windswept bristlecone pine where the firebreak stopped. It alone had managed to survive atop this shifting pile of pumice since the end of volcanic activity four hundred years before. Roxanne recalled hesitating at that moment. Now, she smiled at herself for the delicious night’s sleep that followed. While Rex laid out the sleeping bags, Roxanne braided her wild flaming hair and wrapped it in a stocking cap. Roxanne sang the praises of the brilliant stars above, as Roxanne snuggled into her bag. The soft rusty pumice pebbles, conformed to her shape and eased her towards sleep. Not a breathe of air moved the brilliant celestial lights.

She woke to soft crunching noises as her husband moved. He’d brought Danishes and pints of half-n-half for them to breakfast on. He wished his bride “Good morning, sleepy-head” and returned to gazing towards the East. Roxanne remembered rising from the soft cinders to see what her beloved stared at so seriously. She gasped then, and now Roxanne chuckled softly in warm memory of the moment. Before her emerald eyes laid the graceful “dawn” before the dawn in all its panoramic glory. A thousand feet below her, the Colorado Plateau rolled eastern, swallowing up small cinder cones, racing across the arroyos forming Walnut Creek, gobbling up lesser ridgelines, rushing across the Painted Desert and merging on the horizon with the Navajo Reservation. A cloudless sky the dim color of morning fog veiled the line between the world below and world above. Her husband whispered something about “streaks” as though not to spook them and after a moment she would see the bronze hue rising; gloriously streaming to heaven afar. She followed them heavenwards only to be unable to see them; the Milky Way blazed still above them. A gasp started out of her. Returning to the horizon the metallic light was almost too bright. The proverbial rosy fingers of the dawn rose in great shafts across the horizon to signal the stars departure. Distant ground fog formed. The brighten light revealed the hidden inversion layers among the canyon. The desert breeze began to move about slowly as though still stiff from a sound sleep. Radiant beams burst through the horizon onto her face. Roxanne gasped.

At that moment Roxanne took in a deep breathe of the chill morning air and found herself back on a park bench with the baby asleep in her arms. She smiled at the delightful old memory.

Across the way, Maeve and the little girls (in the glacial blue bunards of Alaska’s Little Norway) were putting away the picnic. The little boys waving miniature Norwegian flags in the air insisted their grandfathers take them swimming.

Roxanne laughed at the thought of sleeping bags. She hadn’t slept in a sleeping bag since God only knows when! When she turned 29 for the 11th time, she announced that they would be no more sleeping in the dirt! Except for that time at the cabin. Now,a gentler softer smile graced her rosy face. Their men folk at the deer camp awoke them in the middle of the night. “Leonid Showers!” her brother-in-law whispers over the satellite phone as though he hadn’t wakened all the adults in the house. Her grown stepdaughters were relieved that it wasn’t bad news and excited about seeing the meteorites showers. Maeve volunteered to stay behind with the youngest children who’d stayed asleep through the general alarm anyway. Roxanne and her stepdaughters gathered up all the older girls, sleeping bags and blankets they could.

Accompanied by the family’s dark-furred, sharp-fanged Jake and Gizmo, she led them all down to the bank of the Stikine River and settled into the dry river-washed sand above the high-tide mark. Roxanne smiled in delight at the memory; the young women and their daughters oohed and aahed at the passing of each ephemeral streak in the Alaska’s star-studded sky. She recalled with a heave of her ample chest how her darling little granddaughters had gathered around her, in her lap and under her blankets to guard against the chill. Each had to outdo the other’s in pointing out the fast-moving stars. “Grandmother look!” “Over her too grandmother”. “Aunt Roxanne, look here.” Now on the park bench she felt warmed by the cool memories. (Maeve always says she is the single most adorned person in their broad extended family.)

Naturally, Maeve’s (secret) favorite granddaughter got them all to notice the starlight dancing atop the overhead glaciers. Agatha convinced everyone to lie in the soft sand and wait. After a few moments of quiet, the stars seemed to grow brighter. When the little girls fingers were no longer tracing the falling stars from the sky, it get their eyes a chance to see the finer bits of light falling by the thousands over their heads of the bevy to dark-haired little girls. All was calm, all was bright.
With warm little children in her arms under the pile of blankets, they were all soon fast asleep.

Little Gizmo, wagging her whole moppish body, licked Roxanne awake shortly after that. With children in their arms, the women returned to their “girls-only slumber party” in the cabin. Still sleepy and fretting over her granddaughters, Roxanne never noticed the absence of Gizmo’s big, drooling mate. It wasn’t until the next morning when they found the paw prints in the dew-drenched sand, did they realize Jake had been keeping the bears at bay.

Roxanne turned her body a little to keep the slumbering tot from the sun and brushed back a black lock of his stray hair. “Holy infant so tender and mild.” She more whispered that sang. Then laughed and admitted to herself that she was no round young virgin!

She thought fondly of Maeve’s love of the Christmas Eve service at the Lutheran Church. They always arrived as early so the whole clan would sit together in the balcony. It was warmest there, what with the heavily bundled crowd below and the heat from the candles decorating the church. Roxanne chuckled again. Heat was an important considerations given that the furnace had failed twice in her memory during that service. (Once was a power failure.) As the little children tottered between sleep and excitement about Santa’s visit, their parent and grandparents watched the pews below become packed with women in bunards worn only for high holidays at church and the week-long festivities during Little Norway Days. The men all wore Norwegian sweaters with the exception of Maeve and Roxanne’s family. All their men wore three piece wool suits.

Two enormous trees flanked the altar, one dressed in ornamental balls of red ribbon, the other done up in white Christmas tree decorations. Twinkling lights peeked out from the foliage of both trees. Fresh cut spruce bows decorated the window sills (cedar was too rare and hemlock shed needles too quickly). Amongst them stood candles in tall glasses lighting the holy silent night outside with love’s pure light. Most years the ushers and “owners of the church” brought folding chairs out of the fellowship hall to seat the overflowing crowd. The congregation seemed more subdued, if not actually louder than normal, but that was probably due to its size. Pastor would be somber and nervous. Here was one of his twice a year chances to convert the heathens (husbands) accompanying their families. The service was all about shepherds quaking at the sight, Christmas carols and peace on earth. As the overhead lights began to dim, the acolytes lit their own candles from the “Jesus Candle” before the festive altar. Pacing with practiced steps down the aisle, they would share the holy flame with worshipers on either side. They in turned passed it on to those beside them. His light and warmth spread through the church. A silence full of awe fell upon the worshippers as they began to sing softy and sweetly of a silent night, holy night, … “Sleep in heavenly peace”, heavenly hosts and “Jesus, Lord at Thy birth " They were in the presence of the Almighty. That blessed assurance stayed with Roxanne and her family as they blew a kiss that darkened their candles as they filed out of the nave. In addition, on a rare occasion, on the holiest night of the year, fresh flakes of snow would be falling as they exited.

Something soft and silky slipped down the back of her neck. A cold chill ran down her body. If it weren’t for the sleeping babe in her arms, Roxanne would have jumped up screaming. She looked up to see the cherry blossoms floating earthward like new falling snow.

M&R: A Rose by Any Other Name…

A couple of icebergs recently calved from the glacier to the east, dotted the south end of the sound. Here in the little bay were the city park lay the green water was calm. The sand was white and the spruces lining the south and north sides tall and dark. Towering over the whole scene was Devil’s Thumb and the Coastal Range of Southeast Alaska

“Shep gets so silly." Roxanne laughed

Maeve’s handsome big shouldered brunette son entertained his equippiers with a story punctuated by the vigorous shaking of his hands, the rattling of his head, swaying of his torso, pumping of his legs and the squirming of his bare feet in the white sand. He wore a light blue ribbon pinned to his light short sleeve shirt. Naturally his brothers chose the same sort of ribbon. His blonde brother Nome leaned back and let out a howl in appreciation of the story.

Beyond them at the water’s edge their children played and waded. One of the littler boys found a stick, waved it over his head while calling for the family pets. Big friendly Jake raced that way with big ears flopping and tail wagging. The stick flew through the autumn air and splashed into the still water. Gizmo chased after her mate, but her shorter legs put her at a disadvantage. She slipped behind Shep just as he leaned back to howl himself, stumbled a little and tripped over her. He fell on this back and butt in the damp white sand. Then a shower of wine rained down upon him from the glass he’d held at the time. Shep was the first person in the family to laugh. His brothers good naturedly pulled him back to his feet.

His, father John A. Sienna and Uncle Stan X. Scamander rushed over to roughly check on him. His father had chosen a light blue ribbon, hence his sons’ choices. Stan to make it fair picked pink. Consequently, Stan’s daughters chose pink.

Maeve smiled with delight; because Roxanne laughed so hard her rosy features were now red. Roxanne always worried so much when the little ones played near the water, regardless of how much Maeve assured her everything would be fine.

“Oh how awful!” her sister-in-law gasped between guffaws with tears running down her face. “Shep could have been hurt!” At which point Roxanne’s buxom son-in-law repeated the pratfall for those that had missed it. Maeve thought Roxanne would fall over she was laughing so hard. A couple of the men did. “Well!” Roxanne sniffled, and then smiled foolishly at her best friend. “Let’s go see what names people have suggested.”

Big ruddy Roxanne wore a blue ribbon because she just knew her step-daughter really wanted a boy. Maeve understandably wore neither upon the white blouse that looked so unnatural on her. But wearing white on picnics was a Sienna family tradition.

“Let’s see,” Roxanne said looking at the suggested “Boy” name penciled up on the poster inside the pavilion. “John, Jack, Jon, Zane, Ian, Johann, Jean, Renaker Duvall…” She turned her coppery crowned head to look at her sister-in-law with a questioning glance.

“Well it’s different.” Maeve suggested weakly. She’d gotten one of the grandchildren to print it for her.

“We haven’t had a Johnny in a while.” Roxanne pointed out as she wrote it on the list.

The next poster on the wall was an enlarged photograph of Shep with a tiny baby. The caption underneath said. “Our bundle of joy came early!” Both women laughed at the joke.

“I sure fell for it!” Roxanne admitted with a chuckle.

“I know.” Maeve reminded her. “I was the one you were screaming at when you got the email.”

“You screamed when I read it to you.” Roxanne retorted with another chuckle and pleased smile.

“True.” Maeve admitted. The blush that rose to her cheeks produced a pleasant pinkness like the affect that red algae has on the pools of liquid ice during the spring high in the ice fields of Alaska. “My husband knew immediately that it was Nome with his hair dyed brown, holding one of his own children for the gag!”

On the “Girl’s” list it was, “Agatha, Angie, Agnes, Agave, Ness, Inez, Augusta, Aggie and Princess Xenia …” the last in the same hand as Renaker Duval. Roxanne smiled and penciled in Agatha again because she thought Maeve liked the name or maybe she thought that contrary to family impression, little Agatha was Maeve’s favorite granddaughter. Next stop was the weight/height pool. Most of the family bet for large and long.

“Any suggestions?” Roxanne asked as she pulled a couple of bills from her large leather handbag.

Several of their adult children and grandchildren paused to hear the response. Maeve just smiled and gave her best friend a wink. Roxanne laughed as she selected a leaner child. They both turned then to look towards the beach. They smiled at everyone else’s inquisitiveness. Smiles framed by bright red lips still livened their fair faces as they turned to watch the children play and admire the incredible skyline. Shep, the father to be at any moment, saw his mother and mother-in-law smiling at him. He adored his mother. Everyone adored his mother-in-law Roxanne. His giddiness might be attributed to the wine on an empty stomach, but everyone who knew Shep knew it was just excitement about the baby, delight in being around the whole family and love for his very pregnant wife. With his usual wide toothy grin he strutted over to the two best friends his broad shoulders sway with each step. His blonde brother’s fond gaze followed him.

“Hi mom.” He announced to everyone with a big beaming smile.

He grabbed Maeve up in his muscular hairy arms crushing her crisp unwrinkled blouse and lifted her off her feet and kissed her squarely on her blood red lips. She pretended to hate that, much to everyone else’s delight. Roxanne hugged her son-in-law with just as much as enthusiasm and left heavy lipstick on his cheek.

“What was that for?” Maeve asked as she shook her straight black hair into place and whipped the tears of laughter from her glacial cheeks.

“I just wanted to give you a kiss and tell you both how wonderful you are.” Maeve black eyes and her best friend’s green ones glanced towards Shep’s father to see if he’d instigated this as he often did when the boys were little. Their suspicion didn’t faze the handsome young man at all. “You are wonderful grandmothers to our children and wonderful mothers to all of us.” He said with a wave of his palm up open hand that indicated his wife, brothers, and sister-in-laws. Then he simple stood smiling. “Mom, my wife and I” he glanced into the interior of the pavilion where Roxanne’s very pregnant stepdaughter sat. She pulled her sisters closer in around her. Shep’s brother stepped up behind him and laid a hairy hand on his shoulder for moral support. Shep’s broad shoulder visibly fell in relief. He started again softy, “We are thinking about not using family names for the baby. Would dad be disappointed? ” He bite his lower lip and stepped back into his brothers arms.

Maeve and Roxanne exchanged a pleasant look. The red-head nodded for black haired Maeve to proceed. “I know your father would like that idea. “

“Really!” Shep gasped with a drop of his jaw and a stumble backward, so his blonde brother actually had to hold him up.

“Yes, dear!”

The two brothers nodded reassurances to their wives and after kissing their mother and mother-in-law again hurried off to them

“Okay everyone.” Roxanne announced loudly. “Maeve is going to scry the sex of the baby. “

Roxanne and her step-daughters gathered up blankets and their bed folks helped the lady of the hour to lay down in comfort.

“Dearie, Maeve will need your wedding band.”

Maeve pulled a length of tread from her bag. With Roxanne’s aid she secured the ring to it.

Maeve stretched her arm over her daughter-in-law and started the ring moving in a circle above the younger woman. The extended family gathered around and once they all quieted down, Maeve explained that if the ring started swinging lengthwise it would be a boy, crosswise a girl. From the corner of her dark eyes she could see money being pulled out of wallets. A breeze blew in from the glacier opposite the park. But the day remained warm and the crowd hot with excitement. The breeze elongated the circling ring long ways; a mumble came from the crowd. The breeze eventually led the ring to swing back and forth from head to toe. Cries of “A boy!”, “A boy!” erupted from the kinfolk. Money exchanged hands.

“Wait!” she called pleasantly

The pendulum began to make smaller sweeps and elongated crosswise, until it was moving from one hip to the other. Some suggested it didn’t work. Everyone was looking at the family matriarch when she looked up from her work.

“Sure it worked. Twins, one of each.”

Everyone one screamed. Cries of “What are their names? What are their names?”

Shep joyously helped his wife up. Nome came to his side.

“Augustus and Joanna”

The crowd gasped. Repeating the names to themselves and those around them. Then the laughter and applause began. John A. Sienna beamed.