FairyRing
Farmer
I am definitely a fan of Middlewalk and am enjoying the depth to which you dive into your narratives. I like the side of Haley you've uncovered for me as well. thanks
Dr. eeL
Farmer
As soon as I read this comment, I received a strong mental picture of a FairyRing's drawing of Captain Hoppy on the starship bridge looking out his viewscreen at the blue planet below. Maybe I should ask FairyRing to illustrate all of the Middlewalk chapters.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
Wow! I wish that Hoppy was aware of this recipe before he wrote all that stuff about chicken manure feeding the algae in his pond. Of course Rana set him straight right away. She knew.
Lew Zealand
Helper
Just curious, do you primarily use Life Elixirs when you do a Skull Cavern run, or is this restricted to the Middlewalk Cinematic Universe?
Dr. eeL
Farmer
Reading Middlewalk, you will get a lot of Haley. Having married her, farmer Lee can tell you that she's quite a handful, and all too real.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
Everyone has their favorite buff against taking too many hits. I do like the life elixirs, because I always go with the mushroom cave early on, and as a result end up with tons of cheap mushrooms of all sorts. Others, who are racing to complete the community center fast, choose fruit bats, but I figure that I can always plant fruit trees. Without the mushroom cave, finding the right sets of mushrooms while cruising about the valley becomes far more difficult.
FairyRing
Farmer
Good
today at the docs office with my mom, they were having hard time getting an IV into her to rehydrate. I escaped into Middlewalk so I wouldn't worry too much as they poked and prodded and failed.
Lew Zealand
Helper
Oh no! I hope your Mom's OK! Maybe she could use a life elixir, though being 100% mushroom there's probably not a ton of water in there...Good
FairyRing
Farmer
She is just ok, on the path to recovery. I'll find the equivalent to a life elixir with more hydration.
thanks
FairyRing
Farmer
Very lovely wedding. Loved the pieces of music
they did add a nice level of immersion.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
Thank you for listening. Gus can really play. That wedding went by way too fast for me. Had you been there, we would gladly have sat down with you at your table. Meeting Haley face to face and seeing that mischievous sparkle in those blue eyes might have signaled instant friendship between you two.
FairyRing
Farmer
No doubt! Us mischief makers gotta stick together. In a way I was there
(I thought mischievium was a word.)
FairyRing
Farmer
Haley wrestling. Abby
likes to wrestle too, imagine that.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-84
Now that Cassie is older, Haley has resumed her weekly visits to Emily. Whenever Haley is gone, my morning list of things to do is shortened, as I still have to watch our daughter. Today is one of those "visit days" and while I got the animals fed, the mushrooms picked, and the casks emptied and refilled, outside I can see that the blueberry bushes are ripe for picking. But it looks like picking will have to wait until tomorrow, as I see Haley taking off and I'm out of time. Now, it's later in the afternoon, and Cassie's busy entertaining herself by giving a tea party to some of her stuffed animals. I'm relaxed, looking out the window while sipping my own cup of green tea, when some circling crows catch my eye. This is odd. I look closer and Yikes! Apparently, the wind has blown down one of the scarecrows, and its crow feast time on blueberries. I rush out of the house and can now see that there's a whole flock of them, chomping away and making a mess of everything. As I approach, they all take off at once, with a swirl of black wings and caws, and I get to survey the damage. The whole quadrant is a mess of partially chewed berries. Grrrrr. I dig a new hole to reset the lady scarecrow and get out my hoe to bury most of the mess so that I'm not next attacked by a hoard of hungry ants and bugs looking for leftovers. Probably it takes me a full forty-five minutes to rectify the damage, and when I return to the farmhouse Cassie's tea party is long over.
"What the . . . " Cassie is in Haley's powder room, sitting excitedly next to her stuffed rabbit, intently powdering its face with a small brush. She looks up at me and is all excited. "Look daddy. I'm beautiful, just like mommy." A strange combination of bright lipstick (of different colors), dark eye shadow, and face powder have all found their way to her face, as well as to her hair and clothes. I'm still standing in the doorway, when as fate would have it decreed, here comes Haley. She's all happy and excited, and greets me with a, "Hi Hon. I'm back from Emily's Did you miss me?" I squeak out a, "Yes." Haley responds with a, "Does that mean you have to kiss me?" I gulp, "Well, you weren't gone very long." She laughs and says, "Look what Emily gave us, cheesy cauliflower from her own special recipe. We'll eat good tonight." Haley bounces through the doorway and instantly catches sight of our daughter. I take the dish from her hands and say, "Ha, Ha. Laugh at the little damage. Laughing fools the brain. When you are in pain, laugh. That's why pirates are always laughing." Haley gives me a look that would turn Frosty the snowman into a puddle of water in under five seconds. "And . . . " "You see, the wind blew down one of our scarecrows, and . . . " "And let's see. Who in your mind has the higher priority, your scarecrow or our daughter? Don't take too long to answer. You might get it wrong.
Our runway model's walkway led straight to the bathtub, with Haley supervising, while I did cleanup duty at Haley's parlor. The countertop was also well decorated and various items were in a stage of being sampled and partially spilled. It's so hard to know which cap goes with which tube. Fortunately, the rabbit was only in the beginning stages of its makeover and only needed a good fluffing. Most of the colored dust disappeared into the vacuum cleaner.
Supper that night was a good deal quieter than usual, perhaps because Emily substituted rubber for cheese in her cauliflower dish. Haley and Cassie were talking as usual, but I might as well be an invisible ghost sitting at the table. The ghost needed a miracle, and then it came to me. While cleaning up and putting away the dishes, I suggested that tonight Haley and I could use our farm computer and go on-line together, especially since Sephora was having a super sale on makeup. The combination of Sephora, sale, and makeup suddenly perked up Haley's interest, and for the next hour I sat by her and watched as Haley painstakingly examined in detail everything (and I do mean everything) in their on-line store. Looking at the prices, I have no idea how the average young lady can afford to visit that store (I had made up that part about a sale), but tonight Haley was the winner of a pick what you want shopping spree. Suddenly, I could hear her singing again, as I typed out the payment details and added next day shipping. Just before climbing into bed with Haley, better late than never, I turned on Welwick's channel and sure enough, she warned, "Don't bother looking for luck today. It's not going to happen."
Oh yeah. Just another day in paradise.
Now that Cassie is older, Haley has resumed her weekly visits to Emily. Whenever Haley is gone, my morning list of things to do is shortened, as I still have to watch our daughter. Today is one of those "visit days" and while I got the animals fed, the mushrooms picked, and the casks emptied and refilled, outside I can see that the blueberry bushes are ripe for picking. But it looks like picking will have to wait until tomorrow, as I see Haley taking off and I'm out of time. Now, it's later in the afternoon, and Cassie's busy entertaining herself by giving a tea party to some of her stuffed animals. I'm relaxed, looking out the window while sipping my own cup of green tea, when some circling crows catch my eye. This is odd. I look closer and Yikes! Apparently, the wind has blown down one of the scarecrows, and its crow feast time on blueberries. I rush out of the house and can now see that there's a whole flock of them, chomping away and making a mess of everything. As I approach, they all take off at once, with a swirl of black wings and caws, and I get to survey the damage. The whole quadrant is a mess of partially chewed berries. Grrrrr. I dig a new hole to reset the lady scarecrow and get out my hoe to bury most of the mess so that I'm not next attacked by a hoard of hungry ants and bugs looking for leftovers. Probably it takes me a full forty-five minutes to rectify the damage, and when I return to the farmhouse Cassie's tea party is long over.
"What the . . . " Cassie is in Haley's powder room, sitting excitedly next to her stuffed rabbit, intently powdering its face with a small brush. She looks up at me and is all excited. "Look daddy. I'm beautiful, just like mommy." A strange combination of bright lipstick (of different colors), dark eye shadow, and face powder have all found their way to her face, as well as to her hair and clothes. I'm still standing in the doorway, when as fate would have it decreed, here comes Haley. She's all happy and excited, and greets me with a, "Hi Hon. I'm back from Emily's Did you miss me?" I squeak out a, "Yes." Haley responds with a, "Does that mean you have to kiss me?" I gulp, "Well, you weren't gone very long." She laughs and says, "Look what Emily gave us, cheesy cauliflower from her own special recipe. We'll eat good tonight." Haley bounces through the doorway and instantly catches sight of our daughter. I take the dish from her hands and say, "Ha, Ha. Laugh at the little damage. Laughing fools the brain. When you are in pain, laugh. That's why pirates are always laughing." Haley gives me a look that would turn Frosty the snowman into a puddle of water in under five seconds. "And . . . " "You see, the wind blew down one of our scarecrows, and . . . " "And let's see. Who in your mind has the higher priority, your scarecrow or our daughter? Don't take too long to answer. You might get it wrong.
Our runway model's walkway led straight to the bathtub, with Haley supervising, while I did cleanup duty at Haley's parlor. The countertop was also well decorated and various items were in a stage of being sampled and partially spilled. It's so hard to know which cap goes with which tube. Fortunately, the rabbit was only in the beginning stages of its makeover and only needed a good fluffing. Most of the colored dust disappeared into the vacuum cleaner.
Supper that night was a good deal quieter than usual, perhaps because Emily substituted rubber for cheese in her cauliflower dish. Haley and Cassie were talking as usual, but I might as well be an invisible ghost sitting at the table. The ghost needed a miracle, and then it came to me. While cleaning up and putting away the dishes, I suggested that tonight Haley and I could use our farm computer and go on-line together, especially since Sephora was having a super sale on makeup. The combination of Sephora, sale, and makeup suddenly perked up Haley's interest, and for the next hour I sat by her and watched as Haley painstakingly examined in detail everything (and I do mean everything) in their on-line store. Looking at the prices, I have no idea how the average young lady can afford to visit that store (I had made up that part about a sale), but tonight Haley was the winner of a pick what you want shopping spree. Suddenly, I could hear her singing again, as I typed out the payment details and added next day shipping. Just before climbing into bed with Haley, better late than never, I turned on Welwick's channel and sure enough, she warned, "Don't bother looking for luck today. It's not going to happen."
Oh yeah. Just another day in paradise.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-85
Clang. Clang. Clang. Ouch! Clint muttered a few words that did nothing to take away the pain of some red sparks that had somehow sneaked under his long shirt sleeves and burned a little skin and hairs. Their brief red flickering life was instantly quenched by sweat pouring out from everywhere. Although the forge made his home toastily warm in the winter, on any day in the rest of the year it was a blast furnace straight from the sun. Clang. Clang. Clang. The metal was taking shape. His eyes focused carefully, as this project was a special gift. To the unobservant, it looked as if Clint was making a set of window frames. But these were no ordinary window frames. Six would go on the back side of Emily's house and the larger one that he was currently working on would be for her front window. Lying next to the completed window frames was a yellow metal sun decoration to replace the corroded one over her doorway. The salty sea air that blew in on the two houses on Willow Lane was tough on metal, and without constant care, anything made out of metal would soon disappear. This frame had to cool, and while waiting, Clint went into his back room to turn up the Blues song that was currently playing. Clint had two favorite genres of music - Blues, and anything that was playing on the saloon jukebox that Emily liked. Ouch! Even one dancing thought that accidentally slipped in about Emily caused Clint to momentarily blink his eyes from a different kind of pain. Emily. No girl on earth has ever been under a microscope as much as Emily has before Clint's eyes. And no girl has ever been more elusive. The unsolvable problem was . . . that Emily was just . . . nice. If he paused momentarily in the doorway of the saloon at night, she greeted him with a wonderful welcoming smile. Ordinarily, that would be a source of infinite encouragement, except . . . that anyone else coming in also got that smile. Both sisters had blue eyes, but Emily's were a darker shade of blue, much closer to matching the shade of her magical hair. Each night, when taking Clint's supper order, those eyes spoke of her acceptance of everything about him, making him everywhere invisible except for his heart. She saw and knew the loneliness there, but somehow when it was expressed in words it sounded exactly like, "Pepperoni, with a side salad. And what would you like to drink?" And every night, after dinner, Clint would find his way home, try to think of wonderful things to say to Emily, try to write them down, fail, and throw the paper into the corner of his room.
One of the issues with having a crush on a girl is that it makes one so over eager to see her, to try to do something to please her, puppy dog style, anything in an attempt to elicit a favorable response back. This is exactly how Clint ended up volunteering to replace the window frames on 2 Willow Lane. He didn't mind the work, of course. No set of steely knife masterpieces hammered out for the Grange display received the attention that Clint showered on these window frames. The replacement sun decoration was his own idea, and he blended and shaped copper and gold bars together to make it glisten and sparkle when hit by rays from the morning rising light. Best of all, even though Emily would not be there, he would be able to spend several hours in her house, luxuriating in her invisible presence, seeing real items that she saw and touched every day, enriching his imagination for future dreams. That afternoon, using his ladder, he removed out the old, corroded frames, taking care not to let any of the glass fall. The new frames fit perfectly, and Clint sealed them in from the outside. Now, it was time to go into the house, to seal up the new frames from the inside. No sooner was he through the doorway than his nose was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh cupcakes from the oven. Sure enough, there was a stack of them in the kitchen with a note of thanks. He looked at the note with X-ray eyes, noting tiny details in how her handwriting captured his name, "Clint." He looked about the room. Such a contrast with its colorful cloths everywhere, each shouting out the name, "Emily." Such a contrast with his soot filled existence of grays and blacks. Clint gave out a long sigh.
Maybe opposites do attract, but Clint couldn't see how. His life was filled with the sound of blowers and burning coal, hers was filled with constant cheery conversation. Her every move betrayed a love of life, with flowers and butterflies, colors and thoughts of magic. All he knew was metal, how it melted, blended, how it grew shape and form under his heavy hammer. His hands were coarse and scarred; her skin was soft and perfect. He wasn't insensitive. He could feel her hand softly on his shoulder when taking his supper order. In his dreams, he would ask her to dance at some of the special events held in the Valley, except that he had never danced with a girl before and was clueless at knowing how. Clueless. Emily could alter his existence to utter happiness simply by being herself. But he had nothing to offer her in return that would make her happy. That was the crux of his problem. In retrospect, he realized that he probably should have spent more time learning to socialize in school, partaking in the give and take of understanding how relationships work. Instead, he had spent his time working next to his father, learning the ins, outs, and secrets of copper, silver, and gold. Back then, he never knew the effects of having a crush on someone. Now he was a certified expert.
That evening, Emily spent extra time with Clint, thanking him for the work on her house. When it came time to pay the bill, she said that it was on the house, and not to worry. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Emily likely paid the bill herself, and Clint felt melancholy that his gift had somehow to be paid for. Walking home, he felt more alone than ever, and he kept asking himself what kind of change could he make that would make a difference. What suddenly popped into his brain was an answer that seemingly came out of no-where. He trembled as if shook by an internal earthquake at the thought. Every afternoon, exactly at 3:30 P.M. Emily walks from her house to the saloon. Starting tomorrow, he would be by her door, and kindly ask if she would like to walk with him. The only question that remained was, could he do it?
Clang. Clang. Clang. Ouch! Clint muttered a few words that did nothing to take away the pain of some red sparks that had somehow sneaked under his long shirt sleeves and burned a little skin and hairs. Their brief red flickering life was instantly quenched by sweat pouring out from everywhere. Although the forge made his home toastily warm in the winter, on any day in the rest of the year it was a blast furnace straight from the sun. Clang. Clang. Clang. The metal was taking shape. His eyes focused carefully, as this project was a special gift. To the unobservant, it looked as if Clint was making a set of window frames. But these were no ordinary window frames. Six would go on the back side of Emily's house and the larger one that he was currently working on would be for her front window. Lying next to the completed window frames was a yellow metal sun decoration to replace the corroded one over her doorway. The salty sea air that blew in on the two houses on Willow Lane was tough on metal, and without constant care, anything made out of metal would soon disappear. This frame had to cool, and while waiting, Clint went into his back room to turn up the Blues song that was currently playing. Clint had two favorite genres of music - Blues, and anything that was playing on the saloon jukebox that Emily liked. Ouch! Even one dancing thought that accidentally slipped in about Emily caused Clint to momentarily blink his eyes from a different kind of pain. Emily. No girl on earth has ever been under a microscope as much as Emily has before Clint's eyes. And no girl has ever been more elusive. The unsolvable problem was . . . that Emily was just . . . nice. If he paused momentarily in the doorway of the saloon at night, she greeted him with a wonderful welcoming smile. Ordinarily, that would be a source of infinite encouragement, except . . . that anyone else coming in also got that smile. Both sisters had blue eyes, but Emily's were a darker shade of blue, much closer to matching the shade of her magical hair. Each night, when taking Clint's supper order, those eyes spoke of her acceptance of everything about him, making him everywhere invisible except for his heart. She saw and knew the loneliness there, but somehow when it was expressed in words it sounded exactly like, "Pepperoni, with a side salad. And what would you like to drink?" And every night, after dinner, Clint would find his way home, try to think of wonderful things to say to Emily, try to write them down, fail, and throw the paper into the corner of his room.
One of the issues with having a crush on a girl is that it makes one so over eager to see her, to try to do something to please her, puppy dog style, anything in an attempt to elicit a favorable response back. This is exactly how Clint ended up volunteering to replace the window frames on 2 Willow Lane. He didn't mind the work, of course. No set of steely knife masterpieces hammered out for the Grange display received the attention that Clint showered on these window frames. The replacement sun decoration was his own idea, and he blended and shaped copper and gold bars together to make it glisten and sparkle when hit by rays from the morning rising light. Best of all, even though Emily would not be there, he would be able to spend several hours in her house, luxuriating in her invisible presence, seeing real items that she saw and touched every day, enriching his imagination for future dreams. That afternoon, using his ladder, he removed out the old, corroded frames, taking care not to let any of the glass fall. The new frames fit perfectly, and Clint sealed them in from the outside. Now, it was time to go into the house, to seal up the new frames from the inside. No sooner was he through the doorway than his nose was overwhelmed by the smell of fresh cupcakes from the oven. Sure enough, there was a stack of them in the kitchen with a note of thanks. He looked at the note with X-ray eyes, noting tiny details in how her handwriting captured his name, "Clint." He looked about the room. Such a contrast with its colorful cloths everywhere, each shouting out the name, "Emily." Such a contrast with his soot filled existence of grays and blacks. Clint gave out a long sigh.
Maybe opposites do attract, but Clint couldn't see how. His life was filled with the sound of blowers and burning coal, hers was filled with constant cheery conversation. Her every move betrayed a love of life, with flowers and butterflies, colors and thoughts of magic. All he knew was metal, how it melted, blended, how it grew shape and form under his heavy hammer. His hands were coarse and scarred; her skin was soft and perfect. He wasn't insensitive. He could feel her hand softly on his shoulder when taking his supper order. In his dreams, he would ask her to dance at some of the special events held in the Valley, except that he had never danced with a girl before and was clueless at knowing how. Clueless. Emily could alter his existence to utter happiness simply by being herself. But he had nothing to offer her in return that would make her happy. That was the crux of his problem. In retrospect, he realized that he probably should have spent more time learning to socialize in school, partaking in the give and take of understanding how relationships work. Instead, he had spent his time working next to his father, learning the ins, outs, and secrets of copper, silver, and gold. Back then, he never knew the effects of having a crush on someone. Now he was a certified expert.
That evening, Emily spent extra time with Clint, thanking him for the work on her house. When it came time to pay the bill, she said that it was on the house, and not to worry. It didn't take a rocket scientist to realize that Emily likely paid the bill herself, and Clint felt melancholy that his gift had somehow to be paid for. Walking home, he felt more alone than ever, and he kept asking himself what kind of change could he make that would make a difference. What suddenly popped into his brain was an answer that seemingly came out of no-where. He trembled as if shook by an internal earthquake at the thought. Every afternoon, exactly at 3:30 P.M. Emily walks from her house to the saloon. Starting tomorrow, he would be by her door, and kindly ask if she would like to walk with him. The only question that remained was, could he do it?
FairyRing
Farmer
To me this is true magic. Child like joy, fun and laughter. Goofing and playing and pretending. Holding hands, watching clouds and listening to water.
Adulthood? No thanks I'm trying to quit.
FairyRing
Farmer
I sit looking intensely at all this picture says- Happy, wild, alive, free, bright. I start reflecting on your tale of your Stardew Valley. And I am moved to tears. Good tears at being apart of a beautiful world you've invited me into. Thank you