MRS. OVERTHEWALL

Friday morning is here,very cool and I am not greeting it with much enthusiasm yet. But then the first hot dark drops of coffee have not passed my lips. I will be much more enthusiastic soon. I have not been to Blogland for a few days. So I will sip my cup of ambrosia and venture forth. I am hoping for a good trip.

Have you ever wondered if fiction could become reality? Words written so expressively that they literally came to life? Well I am not so sure this hasn't happened to me lately. Now hold on a minute before you rush to the phone to call "The Shady Tree Rest Home," again. I'm not saying for sure. I'm just saying maybe. Please just hear me out.

In the early 1900's there was an author that wrote a series of children's stories. Her name was, "Beatrix Potter." She was a much beloved writer. She had a list of characters in her books, both animal and human and spun delightful tales about them. Her books have been read for over a hundred years.

Then a few years ago an Author, Susan Wittig, a writer of Historical fiction started a series called, "The Cottage Tales," featuring Beatrix Potter. She has used a real person from history and has written fiction of her life in the Cottage, on the farm and with the animals. They are whimsical, and interesting. I was listening to one the other afternoon and it told of a woman called, "Mrs.Overthewall." She painted a vivid picture of this chubby little round woman, grey hair piled high on her head. Layers of clothing, a smile on her face and she carried fruit in a basket. The wind would pick her up and just sail her over the stone wall. I am enclosing a short excerpt from the book,

"Of course, we can't permit Lady Longford to have the last word on Emily, but it is ... she blew in on a gust of sudden wind that lifted her bodily over the .. the stile and the stone fence and the hillside beyond, Mrs. Overthewall."

Now after I finished listening for the day and put away my player, the picture stayed with me. The one that had been written with words as I was listening to the book on tape. The picture of Mrs. Overthewall. Don't laugh I do have an imagination.. Later though as I sat watching Television "I" started barking loudly, I didn't get up. She barks at the door at everything. The Emperor came in and looked out. "There's some old lady out there," he said. I got up and looked out.

Standing there at the gate was. Mrs. Overthewall. I swear to you its true. The only thing was that she didn't have the colored scarves. She had layers of clothes and grey hair piled up on her head. She didn't carry a basket of fruit. But you know what the first words she said to me was? "Do you like pears?"

I walked in disbelief to the fence. My very own Mrs.Overthewall had come to my house. I sort of stuttered, "Yes we like pears." She smiled, I had a bumper crop this year and wanted to give you some. " Mrs. Overthewall not only came ,she brought pears. Whoop, whoop.. Now I have to admit a magical wind didn't carry her out to her car, but I do think she sort of glided a little. She produced a bag of pears and brought them back to the gate. I was mentally trying to figure how many layers of clothes she did have on. "How much do you want for these," I asked? She smiled. "I'm doing this for a blessing from God." She walked back, got into her car and drove away. I struggled into the house with the bag. The Emperor stood watching. "

"Where did she come from?" he asked. I shook my head, I did not know. "She didn't go to any other houses," he said ."Only here." I muttered something. "What did you say," he asked. I shook my head. How could I explain it was Mrs.Overthewall to someone who already thinks I'm a nut. Now I grant you in the story she was walking, the wind juat blowing her along. And besides her layers of clothes she wore many bright scarfs. I can only guess she has lost the scarfs somewhere along the way. Nobody else on these blocks got pears. Nobody else had her come to their gate. But we did. The moral to this little story is to be very careful what you read. Because if fantasy is going to become reality I want it to be a nice little old lady with pears and not a crazed killer. I listen to so many of those mystery stories.

So whether you believe my story or not is up to you. And no I haven't been hitting the bottle. As I leave Blogland this morning I look around. Fiction lives here in Blogland too I know. I start walking just a little faster. I've read some of these Blogs, they are not all hearts and roses. Now I've started jogging, I'm outta here.