With our gardens established (though I still haven't mulched!)
and ideas just bubbling over the top...
I thought that it might be fun (bordering on insanity) to start-up
a new blog dedicated solely to a cyber-story format.
In our travels several years ago, around the Delaware River Valley...
we drove by a sign that simply said: "Nonesuch Creek"
I filed the name in the back of my brain and remember thinking:
"What a delightful spot that must be... can you imagine what a colorful cast of characters might live a place called Nonesuch Creek!"
Well, after percolating on the back-burner for a few years... it is time.
The stories will center around three sisters; the Stanton sisters:
Etta, Eloise and Emma... and their younger brother: Woodruff.
Some of the other "locals" will include: Sebastian, Oglethorpe, Ellsworth,
and (dark background music) Wigmarr Wormwood.
There is some conversation on the pages of the story line already about
someone referred to simply as: "Ancient Ecc'arg"... (shrouded in mystery).
Here are some cameo shots of a few of the long lost folks, taken directly from the vignette stage of Nonesuch Creek.
(left-to-right) Eloise, Etta and Woodruff
Eloise... eccentric middle child who is pulled around in her wheelchair
by a pet goat. (her little goat is camera shy!)
Etta... oldest of the three sisters. She never allows that key
around her neck to leave her sight.
Woodruff... the "baby" of the family! Tenderhearted,
adventurous... a "collector" of just about anything!
(from-sticks-to-bird-feathers, as you can see!)
Emma... youngest of the Stanton sisters and the "other" long forgotten folk of Nonesuch Creek are all on my worktable in different stages of the creative process... they are "becoming"! This is how they all started out:
Some cotton batting, paper clay, wooden dowels
and black jasper beads... set against a shadow box stage!
I hope you'll consider following the story... it was written long, long ago.
Not far from Woodstown Whimsies… lies a place called Nonesuch Creek. Our story begins there on a damp, drear morning in late,
late April… the 30th to be exact! The wind was driving the rain like a puppet-master; the emerging spring
leaves were dancing without restraint, stately trillium bowed their crimson and white heads while the barely-visible fiddlehead fronds of the bracken fern
quaked at the clap of thunder.
Mud underfoot as she trudged alone in the shadows of the swamp maples, one of the Stanton sisters emerged. Etta stood shivering in the rain (soaked like a wet muskrat) along the banks of the now overflowing creek.
youngest Stanton sibling, Woodruff… waited patiently for his sister to get into his little red
boat. The murky waters continued to rise; Woodruff remained steadfast. He had been gathering acorns; leftovers found underneath the decaying leaves of the Great Oak (few would have even ventured there).
Young Woodruff delighted in his boat-load of treasures! The rain persisted as they pushed off from the shoreline, unsure as to where the current might take them.