Door County NewsPixels™ & Wish Books & Brochures MAG. THE DREAMING ISSUE | Page 81

“Eek! Whoa! Whoops!” I felt a hand grab
my coat, as another hand pushed me
toward the edge of the ledge. I lurched
into my easel and grasped the trunk of a
nearby birch, narrowly avert- ing a tragic
and messy end to my life on the rocks
below. Slowly I turned around to see who
had so rudely plowed into me. I had to
look twice. It was a little old lady. She had
slid right past me and was now clinging to
the rocky ledge. I wasn’t smiling, but she
was. “Whew, that was close,” she said, for
the under- statement of the year. Slowly
she hauled herself up. Looking at me with
extremely bright blue eyes that belied her
advanced age, she added, “I am so sorry.
Did I ruin your painting?” I whirled
around to see the fate of my painting. It
was still secure on the easel which was
leaning against a splintered tree trunk,
thank heavens. I looked again. I had been
painting a swishy wave at the moment of
impact. The frothy white line now
squiggled across the width of the art
board. I sighed, but said, “No problem. I’ll
just turn the squiggle into a few seagulls
or something. Are you okay?” She nodded
as she stretched her neck, flexed her
fingers and hobbled over to me. “I’m okay.
My, that is one slippery slope.” We both
looked at the skid mark her fall had
created. It ran a good ten feet.
“What are you doing out here in a
blizzard?” she asked. “I might ask you the

same question,” I replied. “I’m plein-air
painting. And you are?” She started to
walk toward the edge. “I’m heading
home,” she answered, pointing vaguely in
the direction of the cave. “Uh-oh. A nut
case,” I thought. I warily eyed the path,
planning my escape route. “But she
doesn’t look all that crazy,” I argued with
myself, trying to calm down so I could
continue to interrogate her. I was driven
by overwhelming curiosity. She spoke.
“Want to come down and warm up with a
cup of tea in the cave? You look cold.”
“Oh, I’m not that cold,” I answered too
quickly. “Why don’t you go and I’ll just
continue painting. I want to get my basic
composition on paper before the snow
covers everything. Um, where did you say
you live?” “In that cave. The one on the
right,” she replied. “Tell you what, I’ll go
down and put the kettle on for tea. I can
heat up some scones, too. You should be
done by then and you can join me.” “Oh,
that’s a great idea,” I said, playing along.
“You call me when everything’s ready.” I
couldn’t help but smile as I bent down to
pick up a pastel. “See you in a little bit,”
she said. As I straightened up and readied
myself to reply I realized she was gone.
Like vanished. She wasn’t there. Did I
imagine this? I wondered. I wasn’t sure.
But I was certain that I was not going to
use temporary insan- it 䁅́