Friday, July 23, 2010

A Sad story and Karl returns..




Some days I get so darn frustrated with computers.  I work on a PC at work, and a Mac at home and often my brain is in cyber space somewhere between the two.

There was a story from our local newspaper I wanted to share with you.  For the past hour or so I have been fighting with this dumb machine to get the link on this post.  You wouldn't think it would be so difficult, but apparently today it is.  So I am going to try one more time, and if I can't get it right I am going to forget the whole thing and just give you Winter Wheat.

Okay, here goes.....  
More than it can bear - Winnipeg Free Press


Of course when you do a draft, and then preview, you can't tell if the link will work, so I'll have to try it out once I actually Publish this post...


Bear with me, please....


No pun intended... really!






And now, Karl returns... 


By the time Karl returned home it was early evening.  Over excited from a busy day of decorating, and an abundance of anticipation for the following day, had prompted Emilie to encourage the children to their beds much earlier than usual.  She was taking advantage of the quiet house to finish last-minute touches to all the gifts she had collected and made for the children and Karl.  As she tied little pieces of leftover ribbon to the packages of plain brown paper wrapped gifts, her thoughts switched from the excited children to the absent Karl.  He was much later getting home than he had said he would be, and she was beginning to worry that something bad had happened to him on the road between here and town.
As if her psyche had conjured him up; the door opened and Karl walked though it.  Emilie turned slowly and their eyes met for first time since the evening before.
Karl quickly closed the door and removed his winter clothes then slowly walked toward her.  “You’re still up; the house looked dark, I thought everyone would be asleep,” his deep voice rumbled through the quiet room.
“You’re late, Karl.  I was beginning to think something had happened to you,” she said softly in return, her breath coming in shallow little puffs the closer he got to where she stood.
He stopped in front of her, and regarded her solemnly in the soft warm glow from the fireplace.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help you today,” he said in a whisper.
“We missed you . . . the children and I . . .”
“I know.”
His hand reached forward and lightly brushed her cheek.  The softness of her skin drew and held his hand like a magnet.  His eyes traveled the map of her face - her eyes, her nose, her lips . . .
“Emilie . . .” his breath heated her face, as he lowered his lips to touch her own.  She tasted like sugar cookies and the strong green tea that she loved so much.  Her taste surprised him, but not as much as the sigh that escaped her lips when their mouths met.  
He lingered a moment too long, and was lost.  Never again would a simple kiss be enough from this spunky little woman who had invaded his life.  His strong arms came around her waist, and he pulled her closer into his embrace.  He touched his tongue to her lips and she opened to him, her actions as natural to him as the breath that he took.  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back with a passion that had his body wishing that there were no children or circumstances to prevent him from loving her the way a man loves his woman.
His thoughts surprised him, and he left her lips and eased her arms from around his neck.  With hands that were shaking he set her away from him.  He took a deep breath to slow his heart, and smiled down into her beautifully confused expression.
“I have wanted to do that for a very long time . . . ”
She teased him with a grin;  “Perhaps you should not have waited so long then.”  
He acknowledged her words with a smile and then his face sobered.
“Emilie, about yesterday . . .”
“No Karl, please let’s not talk about that right now,” she interrupted him.  “Can’t we forget about that letter until after Christmas is over, if not for us, then please Karl, for the children,” she pleaded.
“I can’t forget that letter, Emilie.  It’s all I thought about all day.  I need to know what you intend to do.”
She turned away from him and returned back to the stack of packages she had been working on when he came in.  Because George had consented to sleep upstairs with the other children for one night, the sofa was now empty.  She placed her packages on one end of the sofa, and lowered herself to the other. 
“I can’t tell you what I will do Karl, because I don’t know what to do.”  She told him miserably.  
Karl moved to join her on the sofa,  “Would life here be so bad, Emilie?  I thought you were beginning to like farm life, and I had hoped that once spring was upon us, you would really take to this new way of life.”
She regarded him sadly;  “It’s not that, Karl.  I love it here, truly I do.  But I don’t know if I have much of a future here, that’s all.”
“You have as much future here as anywhere,” he remembered her butter money that lay in his pocket.  He pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her.  “You even have your own business going here,” he joked half-heartily.
“It’s not my money, Karl; it’s yours.”  She pushed his fist full of money away from her.
“You’re wrong about that.  This money is all yours to do with it what you like.  You make the butter, you get the money!”
She took the money this time and regarded him closely.  “I can’t explain to you how I feel.  I like being here with you and the children, but I also long for my own family.  The only family I have left are so far away, that sometimes I feel like I belong to no one.”
“Is that what you want; to belong to someone?”  He asked his voice little more than a whisper.  
“Yes,” she whispered so softly that he almost could not hear her,  “I want that more than anything.”
Karl placed his big hand under her chin, and gently raised it so he could look into her eyes.  Never had words meant so much as the words that followed his actions.
“You belong here, Emilie.  You belong to Raymond, and Anne-Marie, to Charles, Sue, Richard and George.  If you need a reason to stay, those are just a few.”
He had not included himself in the lineup of names that professed to love her, and that thought filled Emilie with a profound sadness. 
“Thank you for saying that, Karl.  You have given me much to think about, and I promise I will make the right decision,” she rose from the sofa, collected the packages from the other end of the sofa, and bent to place them under the tree.  




Before I go here is the conclusion to the bear story...

Wannabe Winnie gone and jar left behind - Winnipeg Free Press



TORONTO -- An elusive black bear that had its head stuck in a pickle jar for the last two weeks is no longer in a pickle and will likely make a full recovery, wildlife officials said Thursday.

Conservation officers near Thunder Bay, Ont., said an empty jar found on the shores of Lake Superior is the same one the bear had been struggling with.
Officials said the jar, which was found with a large clump of black fur inside, is the same style, size and shape as the jar seen on the bear's head in a photo taken this week.
The jar had scratches on it, and a hole consistent with a claw mark, officials said. A canoeist found it about a kilometre away from where the bear was last spotted.
"I'm hoping that he pulled it off. The worst would be that he tried to swim and the jug would fill up with water, and he'd drown," said Ross Johnston, a conservation officer with Ontario's Ministry of Natural Resources.


"I don't expect we'll hear from mister bear again."


It was a storybook ending that some likened to A.A. Milne's famous tale of Winnie-the-Pooh, about a bear who got his head stuck in a jar while trying to slurp up the last drophoney inside.


Sharon Cole-Paterson, whose husband Rob took the photo of the bear, said the positive outcome is an opportunity to increase public education about reporting animals in distress, as well as the need for proper recycling.


Recycling officials said Wednesday that if the jar had been recycled instead of ending up at a garbage dump, the bear would not have been in this dilemma.




-- The Canadian Press






Republished from the Winnipeg Free Press print edition July 23, 2010 A20


A nice way to end the week...






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