Par hasard à un rêve

Whew!  Here’s to the end of another long day.  I got my hair cut, which to tell you the truth, I didn’t want to do. But my hair was useless. I could never do anything with it. So it’s short, it’s curly, it’s shiny and pretty. I wanted to take a picture but my digital camera ran out of juice. I need to find some batteries. And I know I have some around the house.

Well anyways, I want to try to get some writing in today. I haven’t really been writing anything concrete. I’ve been writing scenes and things that pop up my head.

Today’s scene is brought to you by something new I learned today. Flowers have meanings!

Meanings of Flowers

“The garden is beautiful this morning.”
“Is it, now? I believed it to be beautiful every morning.”
“Only on some days, it is pretty. Those are the days when the sun is barely in the sky. But when the dew drops kiss the petals, just as they do today, that is when the garden is beautiful.”
“Then I suppose we should stop to admire the beauty. Not everything beautiful is meant to last.”
“Yes, that is very true, Mr. Crane. Perhaps we shall stay a little longer.”
“Miss Smith…”
“Yes, Mr. Crane?”
He pauses, his lips parted as if he were going to speak. Catherine can see a glimmer in his eyes, but it is only for a moment, for he looks away. They continue to walk through the garden. There are seas of yellows and pinks and violets, ahead of them. Catherine inhales their scent, becoming overwhelmed with the sweet fragrances. Mr. Crane stops suddenly, and then turns to look at her, his gaze unfathomable.
“These tulips are certainly a fine shade of red this morning, do not you agree?”
“Yes, they are their finest.” Catherine replied, looking down.
“Catherine, I…” he starts.
“Yes?”
“Excuse me, Miss Smith, I must…return to my studies.
“Very well. Shall I see you this evening?”
“I am afraid not.”
“Then I will bid you farewell.” Catherine says, curtsying.
“Farewell, Miss Smith.” Mr. Crane bows his head and then he is off, disappearing round the bend.
When Catherine returns to her chambers that evening, she finds a vase on her side-table, and it is filled with tulips. Their petals a beautiful crimson.

I’m starting to like Catherine the more I think about her. I just don’t know how I would start her story off, though.  Hehe, but Mr.  Crane is so shy!

Off to write more!