By the By

Walking today part way down the pasture along the blackberry hedge I glanced over to see if anyone was watching from the carefully crafted arch that leads to Mr. Beachy's house. I'd forgoten to tell you when discussing Mr. Beachy, that he had moved from Ohio to the Northwest around the same time I did! On one of my first walks along the blackberry hedge last year I ran into him. Well, I only saw him for a moment. When he saw me looking, he ducked inside. He's a little shy, you know.

There are several little tunnels that emerge from the blackberry hedge and the grass near these tunnels is carefully groomed, so you know a rabbit or critter of some kind lives in there. One of these tunnels is very well-kept, and that is where I learned that Mr. Beachy had moved with his lovely youngest daughter, Peaches. Yes, Peachy Beachy. On this occassion he was wearing a grey, boiled-wool jacket. As I said, he stepped inside when he saw me seeing him. He stepped just to his left so he could still watch me as I continued down the hill. He's quite elderly now, but still spry. His little daughter dotes on him, making sure his tea is just right and mending his clothes. She was born with a speach impediment and never utters a word. That is perhaps why she has stayed at home with her father all these years. Let me tell you, she is so beautiful; quite slender, and still wears the traditional dress of her homeland. She bows deeply in greeting and her shy smile melts your heart. I have yet to meet her, but have heard all this in just the same way you hear everything from nature. If you're not sure what I mean, you can read about it in The Singing Creek Where the Willows Grow: The Mystical Nature Diary of Opal Whiteley.