The adventures of a knitting grandmother

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She spins, she knits, she blogs about it all.

Friday, June 16, 2006

LittleLace of the Desert

Chapter Two

At first, Momma LittleLace was very happy to be back at the Grand Canyon. It had been a number of years since she had last seen it, and there were a lot more tourists now than back in the old days, but after all was said and done, it really was like coming back home.

Momma and Poppa LittleLace had met at the Canyon. Momma had made her way out there to work as a Harvey Girl. She had been pretty young at the time, but had learned her job quickly. She had lived in a small house with several other girls, all of whom were busy husband-hunting. Momma was not sure she was interested in any of the young men working there, and she certainly wasn't interested in any of the adventurous types passing through on their way west.

Then she met Poppa. She saw him for the first time early one morning, feeding the mules that were taking the tourists into the Canyon. Talll, slender, dark-haired and handsome, he had come out West to find his fortune. Momma began to walk to work each day by the mule corrals. It wasn't long before Poppa noticed her, too, and soon they were spending all their evenings together, sitting out on the rim, watching the sun go down. Not too many months later, they boarded the train one early September morning and rode in to Williams, where they found a preacher and got married.

But that had been a long time ago. Now, however, the difficult years of trying to make a home in the southern Arizona desert seemed to fade away as Momma looked out over the Canyon again. She had come back to find that a number of her old friends were still working in the hotels on the rim, and they quickly made a place for her at the El Tovar. Momma was quite happy to spend her days showing the tourists the large collection of Indian jewelry that the hotel had for sale.

And Poppa? It took a bit longer, but soon he was working as a sales clerk in one of the many shops that were springing up along the canyon's edge. The days were long, but they both were busy working now, and the necessities of life were no longer a matter for worry in the middle of the night.

Then why was Momma now finding herself concerned? Not for where the next meal was coming from, but for what each day might now hold in store for her girls. Moira was spending her days as she always did, caring for the little cabin that they had found to live in, preparing the meals for the family, and watching over Megan and Baby Lace. Baby Lace was still fragile, and growing very slowly. Momma knew that without Moira, life at the Canyon with both her and Poppa working, would not be possible. Yet Momma was concerned that Moira didn't seem at all interested in finding any friends of her own age. Especially any young male friends. Moira was getting to that age where she really ought to be thinking about her own future, and who she would be spending it with. But no young men sought out Moira to walking with them to see the sunset.

Magda, however, was another story. She had never helped out much, and now at the Canyon she was seldom to be found at their cabin. Momma had noticed how many of the men who traveled through the hotels would glance at Magda as she passed by. This made Momma nervous, and she had quietly talked to Poppa about this last night. They had both decided that it would be best to get Magda a job in El Tovar or one of the other hotels, working all day someplace where she would not be out much in the public eye. Momma would talk to some of her friends later today, and see what could be done.

Momma did not have to be at work for another hour yet. She took Megan with her and went out to sit on the rim. The Canyon was still cool in the early morning. The birds were singing, and lizards scurried in the rocks. The sight of the Canyon, as always, brought a momentary peace to Momma's worried thoughts. Megan sat in her lap and cuddled her quilt. Momma had no worries about Megan. She stroked Megan's soft, wispy hair. The worries would come back, all too quickly, but for this moment all was well with the world.

***Author's Note***

As part of the Challenge of writing a Serial Adventure, the staff of The Amazing Lace has seen fit to request a photo depicting "Extreme Knitting", as if Momma LittleLace would be so irresponsible as to run off and dangle one of her children over the edge of the precipice. However, I propose to you, dear reader, that the photo of Momma and Megan at the Canyon's Edge reveals an extremity that most of you cannot imagine. Picture yourself, if you would, at one of the most popular tourist destinations in the world, in June, dressed in an outlandish costume, making yourself finger-pointing, photo-taking fodder for flocks of friendly foreigners who are also present that day.

As if that were not enough, find yourself a local child who is willing to accompany you and take pictures of said outlandishly-dressed individual. Said child having disguised herself with a large sweatshirt and even larger hat, hoping that no one she knows has chosen to visit the Canyon today.

'Nuff said, dear reader.


Anonymous Kelly said...

I'm really enjoying your Amazing Lace posts. You're a terrific writer!

12:01 PM  
Anonymous Debby said...

Your story is so well-written and you have put a lot of time and effort into it! Good luck!

2:14 PM  
Blogger JennyRaye said...

Your posts are great! Particularly like the authors note at the end.

5:11 AM  
Blogger Roxie said...

Oh, bravo! I am so wound up in this yarn! Mama Littlelace is so heroic, and concerns for the girls just snarls my skein. How will this all block out?

7:01 AM  
Blogger Kathy said...

Oh you are too funny. My family thinks Im nuts for asking people to guest blog! YOU win the prize PAT!!!!!!!!!! I love the bonnet photo for Little lace. YOU SHOULDA WON!

4:59 PM  
Blogger Bliss said...

I'm really loving this story, and your photos are great. You are so creative!

12:29 PM  
Blogger Theresa said...

This is a great serial. Fabulous. Thanks for the smile on my face.

9:03 PM  

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