Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-50
This evening, I arrive home a little earlier than usual, and we decide to go for a walk, taking the circular route from our house to the village plaza, past Haley's old house, past Marnie's house, and up the back entrance to our farm. Near the little bridge close to 2 Willow Lane, we run into Penny taking Jas and Vincent home, and I suddenly get an idea and ask if we could borrow Vincent. Penny continues on down the path to escort Jas home, while Vincent stops and looks at me expectantly. "Take a look at these," I say, and pull out a pair of large snails from my pack. One is a shiny green, the other a little bit more yellow. Vincent perks up, "Ooh, can I hold them?" "Sure. Hold them steady and maybe one will come out of his shell. Hey Vincent. Let's have a snail race, and you get to keep the winner." Vincent loves this idea. The three of us decide that the race course will be once across the sidewalk. "You'll have to name the snails so that we can cheer them on," Haley tells Vincent. He thinks for a moment, and comes up with "Rocket" and "Speedy." Looking down, I see that Vincent has some marking pens from today's school exercises, so I suggest that we put a mark on the top of their shells. I carefully hold the snail while Vincent puts a small dot of red on top of Rocket. We do the same, but with a blue marking pen, for Speedy. Now it is time for the great race to begin.
At first, both snails stay in their shells, but then Speedy, and a few moments later Rocket, poke out their noses and antennae. As they begin to move, Haley and I line up behind the snails and start cheering. Vincent is ready and waiting at the finish line. Haley loudly chants, "Ricker Bracker, Fire Cracker. Sisss Boom Baa. Rocket! Rocket! Ra. Ra. Ra!" I'm not as talented as Haley, but I come up with, "Ra Ra Ree. Kick em in the knee. Ra Ra Rass. Kick em in the other knee. Go Speedy go!" (Yes . . . I know that snails don't have knees, but have you ever tried to motivate a snail?). Partway through the race, Willie while making his way to the saloon, hears our cheering, and stops out of curiosity. More worrisome is the arrival of Harvey, who absentmindedly would have stepped onto the race course if Vincent had not grabbed onto one of his legs. Harvey's "one giant step for mankind" would have prematurely ended the race. Penny returns from dropping off Jas, and also stops to watch. Hearing our racket, Jodi and Kent come out of their house to see what all the excitement is about. Rocket goes pretty much in a straight line, but Speedy wants to turn. We decide to help Speedy out by pointing him in the right direction. Just about that time, Rocket pauses to investigate a little patch of wet mud on the sidewalk. It's only a brief pause, before Rocket picks up steam and crosses the finish line first, in time for a huge cheer from Haley. No one is more excited than Vincent. He decides to reward Rocket by letting him go and keeping Speedy for himself. Rocket is carefully deposited under a nearby salmon berry bush. Speedy's fate is to be added to Vincent's terrarium. The great snail race event winds down. Jodi and Kent take Vincent back inside; their supper awaits.
We continue on our way home, taking the path towards Marnie's farm house. Haley compliments me on having a way with kids. I remind her that she's the biggest kid in the entire valley (and I love it), but that I do hope that both of us can stay forever young at heart. Haley kind of wistfully dreams, "Maybe someday we will have kids of our own. I can imagine you pushing the baby carriage along this very path." I come back with, "As long as the girls look like you, I hope that we have lots." She ponders, "I wonder how long we will have to wait?" I do my best to answer, "For a few, the first time is the charm (likely to their regret). For most, it can take as long as a year or more, so we're perfectly normal. This is our time together." Haley's arm, which had been around my waist, slipped down and she pinched my butt. "Ouch! What's that for?" "Let's walk faster so we can get home. We need to practice some more."
This evening, I arrive home a little earlier than usual, and we decide to go for a walk, taking the circular route from our house to the village plaza, past Haley's old house, past Marnie's house, and up the back entrance to our farm. Near the little bridge close to 2 Willow Lane, we run into Penny taking Jas and Vincent home, and I suddenly get an idea and ask if we could borrow Vincent. Penny continues on down the path to escort Jas home, while Vincent stops and looks at me expectantly. "Take a look at these," I say, and pull out a pair of large snails from my pack. One is a shiny green, the other a little bit more yellow. Vincent perks up, "Ooh, can I hold them?" "Sure. Hold them steady and maybe one will come out of his shell. Hey Vincent. Let's have a snail race, and you get to keep the winner." Vincent loves this idea. The three of us decide that the race course will be once across the sidewalk. "You'll have to name the snails so that we can cheer them on," Haley tells Vincent. He thinks for a moment, and comes up with "Rocket" and "Speedy." Looking down, I see that Vincent has some marking pens from today's school exercises, so I suggest that we put a mark on the top of their shells. I carefully hold the snail while Vincent puts a small dot of red on top of Rocket. We do the same, but with a blue marking pen, for Speedy. Now it is time for the great race to begin.
At first, both snails stay in their shells, but then Speedy, and a few moments later Rocket, poke out their noses and antennae. As they begin to move, Haley and I line up behind the snails and start cheering. Vincent is ready and waiting at the finish line. Haley loudly chants, "Ricker Bracker, Fire Cracker. Sisss Boom Baa. Rocket! Rocket! Ra. Ra. Ra!" I'm not as talented as Haley, but I come up with, "Ra Ra Ree. Kick em in the knee. Ra Ra Rass. Kick em in the other knee. Go Speedy go!" (Yes . . . I know that snails don't have knees, but have you ever tried to motivate a snail?). Partway through the race, Willie while making his way to the saloon, hears our cheering, and stops out of curiosity. More worrisome is the arrival of Harvey, who absentmindedly would have stepped onto the race course if Vincent had not grabbed onto one of his legs. Harvey's "one giant step for mankind" would have prematurely ended the race. Penny returns from dropping off Jas, and also stops to watch. Hearing our racket, Jodi and Kent come out of their house to see what all the excitement is about. Rocket goes pretty much in a straight line, but Speedy wants to turn. We decide to help Speedy out by pointing him in the right direction. Just about that time, Rocket pauses to investigate a little patch of wet mud on the sidewalk. It's only a brief pause, before Rocket picks up steam and crosses the finish line first, in time for a huge cheer from Haley. No one is more excited than Vincent. He decides to reward Rocket by letting him go and keeping Speedy for himself. Rocket is carefully deposited under a nearby salmon berry bush. Speedy's fate is to be added to Vincent's terrarium. The great snail race event winds down. Jodi and Kent take Vincent back inside; their supper awaits.
We continue on our way home, taking the path towards Marnie's farm house. Haley compliments me on having a way with kids. I remind her that she's the biggest kid in the entire valley (and I love it), but that I do hope that both of us can stay forever young at heart. Haley kind of wistfully dreams, "Maybe someday we will have kids of our own. I can imagine you pushing the baby carriage along this very path." I come back with, "As long as the girls look like you, I hope that we have lots." She ponders, "I wonder how long we will have to wait?" I do my best to answer, "For a few, the first time is the charm (likely to their regret). For most, it can take as long as a year or more, so we're perfectly normal. This is our time together." Haley's arm, which had been around my waist, slipped down and she pinched my butt. "Ouch! What's that for?" "Let's walk faster so we can get home. We need to practice some more."
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Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-51
Haley opens the screen door and yells, "Hey out there. Does my cute husband want lunch?" Duh. I drop my stuff, dust off, leave my shoes on the porch, and cruise on inside. "What's that good smell?" I ask. "Shrimp fried in butter. You get to help with the dessert, diced peaches with whipped cream," Haley responds. I chop up some peaches, and coat them with a little yogurt, before hesitating to hand the can of whipped cream over to Haley. "It's okay, you can trust me," she answers to my hesitation. Quickly she squirts the two bowls high with topping, crowns them with a cherry, and casually says, "There's only a little bit left. Open your mouth wide and I'll squirt the rest in." I open wide, and without hesitation, she blasts my nose with a big squirt. "Oops, missed," she giggles. "If I catch you, I won't miss," I growl, as I chase her up the bedroom stairs and halfway through the spare bedroom. As I sit down for a plate of shrimp, looking across the table at my "friend", I'm thinking of a line from the Jungle Book, where Kaa the snake, softly sings, "Trust in me, I'm your friend." But then that pretty face with bouncing blonde curls sticks her (forked) tongue out at me, and I have to laugh. It could be a lot worse. Yesterday, she grabbed the pruning shears out of our tool shed and chased me about the yard, laughing wickedly all the way. I needed zero hints to know exactly what part of my anatomy was in danger of being pruned.
As we munch, I tell Haley that Robin mentioned to me about helping to contribute to a secret project to replace Pam and Penny's trailer and build a real house for them. "You have such good thoughts, what do you think of the idea?" I ask. Haley counters with, "Will it be expensive?" "Not even close to the amount of the return scepter," I reply. "We have the money. I'm more interested in your opinion about how such a change would affect Pam and Penny." "Well, their whole trailer is smaller than our kitchen and dining room. I don't know how they manage. Penny grew up there, so she is probably used to it. And Pam uses Gus's as a second home." Haley continued, "Penny would be astonished. And Pam might be tempted to spend more time at home. I think that it's a wonderful idea." "Great." As usual, we're together on the same page. I'll give Robin the go-ahead the next time I see her."
Over the next two days, I do a little peeking, but the trailer is still there, and the only hint that something is happening is the sound of Robin's hammer. But on the third day, a charming little house has taken the place of the trailer. Outside, I see Robin looking at her handywork, and looking mighty proud. Over the doorway is a decorative circular window, and Robin explains how work on Willie's boat gave her the idea to install a similar window into Pam and Penny's house. She then asked me if I wanted to remain anonymous over funding the house. My first thought was to say yes, but secrets do not keep well in the valley, and besides, just how many locals can afford to donate 500,000g? I let her know that, "Sure, you can tell them it was me." Before Pam and Penny show up, Robin gives me a tour of the inside. It's a beautiful split-level home. Robin should be more than happy with how her design turned out. Already, all their belongings have been moved in, including a plentiful supply of beer cans for Pam's bedroom. Penny's bedroom has a nice bookcase, and a glance at the titles shows several books on the Solarium Chronicles game. I've never seen her in Sebastian's basement, and I wonder if Sam and Sebastian know that she studies the game. On her bed is an open book that's a study guide for second graders. Since Penny is not very tall in height, I thought that it was cute and thoughtful of Robin to make a small stepstool for Penny to stand on while working in the kitchen.
Back outside, Penny and Pam show up for the great unveiling. For both, there can be doubt that it's a dream come true (and I'm sure that in Stardew Valley the taxes will stay the same, even if the property has substantially increased in value). When Robin reveals the name of the donor, surprisingly, it is Pam who shows concern about either being indebted to me or having to swallow her pride to accept a gift. Penny is delighted and can accept that a gift is a gift, but Pam is leery of gifts, and can only think in terms of exchanges. This I can understand, for all her life she has put herself into situations where nothing is free, and even gifts come with hidden prices. I gently try to explain that what has taken place is an early version of the Secret Santa game, where gifts are given freely. If she would like to put a can of beer under the tree on the next Feast of the Winter Star for me, I would be more than happy to take it (I'm pretty sure that my pig would drink it). Beer is something that Pam can relate to, and distracted off of thoughts about pride and poverty, she can now easily say, "Thank you." They head on inside, and Robin and I can hear excited voices, amazed at what has to be the most momentous event in each of their lives.
Haley opens the screen door and yells, "Hey out there. Does my cute husband want lunch?" Duh. I drop my stuff, dust off, leave my shoes on the porch, and cruise on inside. "What's that good smell?" I ask. "Shrimp fried in butter. You get to help with the dessert, diced peaches with whipped cream," Haley responds. I chop up some peaches, and coat them with a little yogurt, before hesitating to hand the can of whipped cream over to Haley. "It's okay, you can trust me," she answers to my hesitation. Quickly she squirts the two bowls high with topping, crowns them with a cherry, and casually says, "There's only a little bit left. Open your mouth wide and I'll squirt the rest in." I open wide, and without hesitation, she blasts my nose with a big squirt. "Oops, missed," she giggles. "If I catch you, I won't miss," I growl, as I chase her up the bedroom stairs and halfway through the spare bedroom. As I sit down for a plate of shrimp, looking across the table at my "friend", I'm thinking of a line from the Jungle Book, where Kaa the snake, softly sings, "Trust in me, I'm your friend." But then that pretty face with bouncing blonde curls sticks her (forked) tongue out at me, and I have to laugh. It could be a lot worse. Yesterday, she grabbed the pruning shears out of our tool shed and chased me about the yard, laughing wickedly all the way. I needed zero hints to know exactly what part of my anatomy was in danger of being pruned.
As we munch, I tell Haley that Robin mentioned to me about helping to contribute to a secret project to replace Pam and Penny's trailer and build a real house for them. "You have such good thoughts, what do you think of the idea?" I ask. Haley counters with, "Will it be expensive?" "Not even close to the amount of the return scepter," I reply. "We have the money. I'm more interested in your opinion about how such a change would affect Pam and Penny." "Well, their whole trailer is smaller than our kitchen and dining room. I don't know how they manage. Penny grew up there, so she is probably used to it. And Pam uses Gus's as a second home." Haley continued, "Penny would be astonished. And Pam might be tempted to spend more time at home. I think that it's a wonderful idea." "Great." As usual, we're together on the same page. I'll give Robin the go-ahead the next time I see her."
Over the next two days, I do a little peeking, but the trailer is still there, and the only hint that something is happening is the sound of Robin's hammer. But on the third day, a charming little house has taken the place of the trailer. Outside, I see Robin looking at her handywork, and looking mighty proud. Over the doorway is a decorative circular window, and Robin explains how work on Willie's boat gave her the idea to install a similar window into Pam and Penny's house. She then asked me if I wanted to remain anonymous over funding the house. My first thought was to say yes, but secrets do not keep well in the valley, and besides, just how many locals can afford to donate 500,000g? I let her know that, "Sure, you can tell them it was me." Before Pam and Penny show up, Robin gives me a tour of the inside. It's a beautiful split-level home. Robin should be more than happy with how her design turned out. Already, all their belongings have been moved in, including a plentiful supply of beer cans for Pam's bedroom. Penny's bedroom has a nice bookcase, and a glance at the titles shows several books on the Solarium Chronicles game. I've never seen her in Sebastian's basement, and I wonder if Sam and Sebastian know that she studies the game. On her bed is an open book that's a study guide for second graders. Since Penny is not very tall in height, I thought that it was cute and thoughtful of Robin to make a small stepstool for Penny to stand on while working in the kitchen.
Back outside, Penny and Pam show up for the great unveiling. For both, there can be doubt that it's a dream come true (and I'm sure that in Stardew Valley the taxes will stay the same, even if the property has substantially increased in value). When Robin reveals the name of the donor, surprisingly, it is Pam who shows concern about either being indebted to me or having to swallow her pride to accept a gift. Penny is delighted and can accept that a gift is a gift, but Pam is leery of gifts, and can only think in terms of exchanges. This I can understand, for all her life she has put herself into situations where nothing is free, and even gifts come with hidden prices. I gently try to explain that what has taken place is an early version of the Secret Santa game, where gifts are given freely. If she would like to put a can of beer under the tree on the next Feast of the Winter Star for me, I would be more than happy to take it (I'm pretty sure that my pig would drink it). Beer is something that Pam can relate to, and distracted off of thoughts about pride and poverty, she can now easily say, "Thank you." They head on inside, and Robin and I can hear excited voices, amazed at what has to be the most momentous event in each of their lives.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-52
"Don't forget dear, tomorrow's the Fall Festival," Haley reminds me. "Right. It's our first one together. Let's make a day of it," I replied. Thus far, in our married life, we've had a lot of firsts, and this one promises to be a lot of fun. Just so I don't have to rush tomorrow, I pull out my list of potential grange items and run around for a bit to gather them up. This year, I'm going with a rabbit's foot, sturgeon aged roe, my only lava eel, a sunflower in the middle just for Haley, a chunk of dolomite, a pretty round pumpkin and a starfruit. My plan is to try for points in every category.
After a typical morning, I finish up the chores, go on inside the house, change clothes, and then patiently wait for Haley to beautify herself. When she's primped and proper, it's a short stroll hand in hand to the Fair. Right away, Haley says, "I'm hungry, let's get a survival burger." When Haley says she's hungry, she means now, not ten minutes from now, so we hustle up to the burgers. She quickly grabs one, but I'm not so fast. Even if a survival burger was dunked, bun and all, in Gus's secret sauce, I couldn't eat one, as egg-plant and cave carrots don't belong in any of my approved food groups. Fortunately for me, next to the survival burgers are turkey legs, and I grab one of these. Finishing up our pre-lunch snack, we go down to the main part of the Fair and set up our grange display. We're placed right in the middle between Pierre and Marni. Marni's cheese wheel is big enough to use on a farm tractor. Haley chats with Caroline, while a rather nervous looking Pierre sprays mists of water over some of his vegetables and fruit. I pull Haley away from Caroline, and we try smashing the stone game. Taking turns, neither of us are any good. Haley just misses hitting her foot, the bar doesn't move, and somehow still, she wins a prize of one token. Moving on to the fishing, this is one of my strengths, and I'm the easy winner. However, deadeye Haley kills me on the slingshot game, so after three games, she's the winner by one token and lets me know it.
Now, it is time for the judging, and Lewis makes a show of walking down the row of displays. The contestants gather around in the center of the square, and Lewis announces that, "Lee and Haley," are the winners. Our prize is more tokens to add to our already big pile, and the opportunity to see Pierre trying hard not to cry. There's a wheel for gambling the tokens, and I ask Haley what color she wants. Knowing that I like green, she laughs, and say, "Orange." I shove all our winnings out on orange, and bingo, we win. Now, there are so many tokens that we need a bag to carry them in. If I could ever get Haley out to Mr. Qi's creepy gambling pit, there is no doubt in my mind that she could clean him out in short order. Swimming in tokens, we look at the prize booth, and the only item that Haley really wants is the vase of dried sunflowers, remarkably the cheapest item for sale. As we go back to our display to pick up our items, I see a rather resigned Willie two booths down, also putting away his fish. Haley sees him too, and whispers an idea in my ear. I walk up to Willie and tell him, "Hey Willie. Lewis is running a little side contest and it's your turn to participate. If you can guess the name of Haley's favorite flower, you will win all the tokens in this bag. Willie looks at Haley holding the vase, and says, "Sunflowers." "We have a winner," I call out, as I hand him the bag. Haley and I look at each other and smile, as Willie is astonished at what just happened.
"Let's go visit the fortune teller," requests Haley. "Sure, I wonder what she will tell us," I respond eagerly. We make our way to Welwick's tent. She looks up and says, "Ah, the young married couple. Welcome, sit down. I'll give you a special - two for the price of one." I hand over 100 g. She looks closely at me and says, "I remember you. You were so kind to me, seems like, almost a year ago at the Casino." I nod yes. "Let me see both of your palms. Ah, such a happy couple. I see only one cloud. There are no children yet in your lives." "Well, we thought it would be easy, I said, "but maybe it's not." Welwick looks into her crystal ball, and then looks a lot closer. "Well, it's certainly not because of a lack of trying on your parts." "Hey!" I exclaim, and Haley turns a shade of bright pink. Welwick reluctantly looks up and says, "You're simply missing a little magic." She rummages in her clothes, and out of a hidden picket, produces a tiny bottle filled with what looks like recycled squid ink. Slowly, carefully, she opens the cap, and whatever was in the bottle definitely was not perfume, as a whiff floats in our direction. "Ew, Ew, that smells horrible," coughs Haley. If you can imagine a bloated sperm whale rotting on the beach for over two weeks, you are just getting warm in how to describe the stink. "It's not for you, my dear, it's for him." "Me? Why me?" "The valley is a very special place and to make a child here, you've got to have magic. You, Haley, were born here and already have plenty of it. But your husband was not, and he is missing something essential. Stick out your tongue, and I'll just add two drops." I had no idea what was going to happen. Was I really going to stick out my tongue? I really, really hoped that it did not taste as bad as it smelled. Plop. Plop! Well . . . . it was not terrible. The texture was sticky and buttery, and remotely the flavor reminded me of black licorice. Haley was looking at me more than a little concerned, and what could I do? I gulped and swallowed. Welwick smiled. "That will be 500 g please.
"Don't forget dear, tomorrow's the Fall Festival," Haley reminds me. "Right. It's our first one together. Let's make a day of it," I replied. Thus far, in our married life, we've had a lot of firsts, and this one promises to be a lot of fun. Just so I don't have to rush tomorrow, I pull out my list of potential grange items and run around for a bit to gather them up. This year, I'm going with a rabbit's foot, sturgeon aged roe, my only lava eel, a sunflower in the middle just for Haley, a chunk of dolomite, a pretty round pumpkin and a starfruit. My plan is to try for points in every category.
After a typical morning, I finish up the chores, go on inside the house, change clothes, and then patiently wait for Haley to beautify herself. When she's primped and proper, it's a short stroll hand in hand to the Fair. Right away, Haley says, "I'm hungry, let's get a survival burger." When Haley says she's hungry, she means now, not ten minutes from now, so we hustle up to the burgers. She quickly grabs one, but I'm not so fast. Even if a survival burger was dunked, bun and all, in Gus's secret sauce, I couldn't eat one, as egg-plant and cave carrots don't belong in any of my approved food groups. Fortunately for me, next to the survival burgers are turkey legs, and I grab one of these. Finishing up our pre-lunch snack, we go down to the main part of the Fair and set up our grange display. We're placed right in the middle between Pierre and Marni. Marni's cheese wheel is big enough to use on a farm tractor. Haley chats with Caroline, while a rather nervous looking Pierre sprays mists of water over some of his vegetables and fruit. I pull Haley away from Caroline, and we try smashing the stone game. Taking turns, neither of us are any good. Haley just misses hitting her foot, the bar doesn't move, and somehow still, she wins a prize of one token. Moving on to the fishing, this is one of my strengths, and I'm the easy winner. However, deadeye Haley kills me on the slingshot game, so after three games, she's the winner by one token and lets me know it.
Now, it is time for the judging, and Lewis makes a show of walking down the row of displays. The contestants gather around in the center of the square, and Lewis announces that, "Lee and Haley," are the winners. Our prize is more tokens to add to our already big pile, and the opportunity to see Pierre trying hard not to cry. There's a wheel for gambling the tokens, and I ask Haley what color she wants. Knowing that I like green, she laughs, and say, "Orange." I shove all our winnings out on orange, and bingo, we win. Now, there are so many tokens that we need a bag to carry them in. If I could ever get Haley out to Mr. Qi's creepy gambling pit, there is no doubt in my mind that she could clean him out in short order. Swimming in tokens, we look at the prize booth, and the only item that Haley really wants is the vase of dried sunflowers, remarkably the cheapest item for sale. As we go back to our display to pick up our items, I see a rather resigned Willie two booths down, also putting away his fish. Haley sees him too, and whispers an idea in my ear. I walk up to Willie and tell him, "Hey Willie. Lewis is running a little side contest and it's your turn to participate. If you can guess the name of Haley's favorite flower, you will win all the tokens in this bag. Willie looks at Haley holding the vase, and says, "Sunflowers." "We have a winner," I call out, as I hand him the bag. Haley and I look at each other and smile, as Willie is astonished at what just happened.
"Let's go visit the fortune teller," requests Haley. "Sure, I wonder what she will tell us," I respond eagerly. We make our way to Welwick's tent. She looks up and says, "Ah, the young married couple. Welcome, sit down. I'll give you a special - two for the price of one." I hand over 100 g. She looks closely at me and says, "I remember you. You were so kind to me, seems like, almost a year ago at the Casino." I nod yes. "Let me see both of your palms. Ah, such a happy couple. I see only one cloud. There are no children yet in your lives." "Well, we thought it would be easy, I said, "but maybe it's not." Welwick looks into her crystal ball, and then looks a lot closer. "Well, it's certainly not because of a lack of trying on your parts." "Hey!" I exclaim, and Haley turns a shade of bright pink. Welwick reluctantly looks up and says, "You're simply missing a little magic." She rummages in her clothes, and out of a hidden picket, produces a tiny bottle filled with what looks like recycled squid ink. Slowly, carefully, she opens the cap, and whatever was in the bottle definitely was not perfume, as a whiff floats in our direction. "Ew, Ew, that smells horrible," coughs Haley. If you can imagine a bloated sperm whale rotting on the beach for over two weeks, you are just getting warm in how to describe the stink. "It's not for you, my dear, it's for him." "Me? Why me?" "The valley is a very special place and to make a child here, you've got to have magic. You, Haley, were born here and already have plenty of it. But your husband was not, and he is missing something essential. Stick out your tongue, and I'll just add two drops." I had no idea what was going to happen. Was I really going to stick out my tongue? I really, really hoped that it did not taste as bad as it smelled. Plop. Plop! Well . . . . it was not terrible. The texture was sticky and buttery, and remotely the flavor reminded me of black licorice. Haley was looking at me more than a little concerned, and what could I do? I gulped and swallowed. Welwick smiled. "That will be 500 g please.
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Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-53
One afternoon, Haley and I walked to the library to return a book. Gunther greets us with a comment to Haley about how her husband was responsible for collecting and donating most of the items in the museum. He even points out the golden shovel award hanging on the wall, and says, "This was all thanks to Lee." This is news to Haley, and she then takes a quick eye-opening tour of the museum. Most of what she sees does not pique her interest, but she does pick up a doll, and is curious about the dwarf scrolls with their hidden messages. She also touches some of the glitterier rocks. Since the mine carts are nearby, we ride them back to the bus stop, and along the way, she asks, "I really didn't know that Gunther liked you so much. How did you collect all those artifacts?" My answer was, "One at a time. Nearly all came from the various old mining caves and tunnels throughout the valley." After we got home, I opened the chest full of gemstones, and showed the sparkling jewels to Haley. She reached in and ran her fingers through the handfuls of glowing and shining rocks, and said, "A pirate would have a heart attack if he saw all this treasure." "Probably," I replied, "But when's the last time you heard of or saw a pirate in Stardew Valley?" "You've been to and seen many places in the valley that I don't know about. What are some of them like?" she asked. "To be honest, most are dark, scary, and dangerous, and I've often been left with the bite marks to prove it," was my reply.
Now, I will confess that it is remarkably easy to scare Haley. More than once, I have snuck up behind her, catching her unawares, and making her jump out of her skin. I pay for it later, but it's all part of keeping my special brat partially in line. The golden ticket is seeing her run upstairs and having to change out her underpants. Now, scary is somewhat of a two-edged sword. Maybe your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but somehow it is irresistible to take just the smallest of peeks. Something she saw today, or something I said, got Haley to thinking, and now she starts prodding me to take her to some place (some scary place) that she has not seen before. She wanted to peek. I warned her that it could be the world's shortest adventure, but still she wanted to at least try it. Where to take her? The mines were first off my list of potential places. I was not in any way about to risk having my sweetheart get bit by some hungry dark thing. About this time, the perfect place popped up in my brain, and I said, "Tomorrow, I'll take you on a secret adventure." If I had said the same thing to either Jas or Vincent, I could not have elicited a more excited response.
The next day, I had Haley dress up in my clothes. We are pretty much the same size, and the dressed Haley certainly looked better than some of our scarecrows. Out in our shed, I picked out a sizable orange pumpkin, and said, "It's a gift." I also gave her one of my extra glow rings, just, "In case it gets too dark." We took the mine carts to town, and walked towards 2 Willow Lane. Coming up to the sewer gate, I took out my key and cracked open the lid. Although that gate had been twenty feet from Haley's house all her life, she had never seen anyone open it before, and peered down into the dark. She then jerked her head back, and said, "What's that horrid smell?" I told her that, "Right under your house lives a very special creature - so strange and unusual that you couldn't imagine it if you tried. But to see him, you'll have to block out and endure the smell." Haley squeezed her eyes tight, and took a few more breaths. I gave her time to see if she could adjust. Finally, she nodded her head. I descended the ladder first, and waited at the bottom. She came down one rung at a time, and I talked calmly to her to reassure her that I really was there, waiting for her. It wasn't too dark. Upon reaching the floor, she looked around at the sub terrain world, the walls, to the pools a short distance away. Without saying a word, she pointed upwards, and I let her climb back up the ladder. I followed. Outside, she was taking deep breaths, not so much to exchange foul air for fresh, but to calm her racing heart. Meanwhile, I was trying to steady her with, "Think of it as an underground cellar, just a smelly place with walls. You won't get hurt, and I will hold your hand tight the entire way. It's not very far to go." I'll say this for Haley, she can be very determined. Soon, we were at the bottom of the ladder again, and I took her hand and walked towards the water. The wall turned to her left, and then, as it ended, she saw Krobus. Krobus saw her, and for an instant, it was a contest to see who was frightened the most. I broke the ice by calling out, "Hi Krobus. Meet my wife, Haley. She's friendly and doesn't bite." Krobus answered back, "There's two of you. This is most unusual." Haley whispered (rather loudly in the quiet room) to me, "It looks like a talking shadow. You can see right through him. And he lives right under my old house!" I reached into my backpack, pulled out the pumpkin, and handed it to Haley. She needed two hands to hold it, so I let go, and told her to, "Offer him a pumpkin, and see what happens." She gingerly took two steps in the direction of Krobus and held out the pumpkin. Krobus lit up (if it can be said that a shadow person can light up), and said, "It is a great honor for me to receive this gift from you." Looking at Haley, he continued with, "Maybe you would like to shop. Care to see my wares?" At the magical word "shop," Haley somehow forgot all about the smell, the dripping water, the strange shadow creature, and scanned the offered list of items. Suddenly, two beings who were gingerly dancing about each other a moment ago, were now looking pretty happy. Krobus with his pumpkin and Haley shopping. Eventually, she settled on a rhubarb pie (for desert tonight). I piped up, "It's time to go. Krobus, we'll see you again another time." I then grabbed Haley's hand, and together we walked along the edge of the flowing stream of sewage towards the back exit. (I deliberately didn't point out the statue of uncertainty or the mutant bug lair). Once outside in the (wonderful) fresh air, we climbed the short set of stairs and together fell flat on our backs in the grass of Cindersap forest, and looked up at fluffy white clouds. For a while, we just aired out. Finally, Haley recovers her breath and composure enough to start talking. "Ugh, the smell was horrible, and the green bubbly goo gives me the shivers just to think about it, and for sure, I've never done or seen anything like that before. But Krobus was great! Emmy would never dream that he lives right under our house." I answer with, "Very few villagers know of his existence. You're the cutest, stinkiest, bravest girl to do so." Her reflective answer came back as, "Wow, that was something. You're my favorite husband. I think I'll keep you." And with that, she whispered in my ear, "I love you." I could not help but think that once we get all cleaned up, who knows, maybe that pie will keep for another night.
One afternoon, Haley and I walked to the library to return a book. Gunther greets us with a comment to Haley about how her husband was responsible for collecting and donating most of the items in the museum. He even points out the golden shovel award hanging on the wall, and says, "This was all thanks to Lee." This is news to Haley, and she then takes a quick eye-opening tour of the museum. Most of what she sees does not pique her interest, but she does pick up a doll, and is curious about the dwarf scrolls with their hidden messages. She also touches some of the glitterier rocks. Since the mine carts are nearby, we ride them back to the bus stop, and along the way, she asks, "I really didn't know that Gunther liked you so much. How did you collect all those artifacts?" My answer was, "One at a time. Nearly all came from the various old mining caves and tunnels throughout the valley." After we got home, I opened the chest full of gemstones, and showed the sparkling jewels to Haley. She reached in and ran her fingers through the handfuls of glowing and shining rocks, and said, "A pirate would have a heart attack if he saw all this treasure." "Probably," I replied, "But when's the last time you heard of or saw a pirate in Stardew Valley?" "You've been to and seen many places in the valley that I don't know about. What are some of them like?" she asked. "To be honest, most are dark, scary, and dangerous, and I've often been left with the bite marks to prove it," was my reply.
Now, I will confess that it is remarkably easy to scare Haley. More than once, I have snuck up behind her, catching her unawares, and making her jump out of her skin. I pay for it later, but it's all part of keeping my special brat partially in line. The golden ticket is seeing her run upstairs and having to change out her underpants. Now, scary is somewhat of a two-edged sword. Maybe your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, but somehow it is irresistible to take just the smallest of peeks. Something she saw today, or something I said, got Haley to thinking, and now she starts prodding me to take her to some place (some scary place) that she has not seen before. She wanted to peek. I warned her that it could be the world's shortest adventure, but still she wanted to at least try it. Where to take her? The mines were first off my list of potential places. I was not in any way about to risk having my sweetheart get bit by some hungry dark thing. About this time, the perfect place popped up in my brain, and I said, "Tomorrow, I'll take you on a secret adventure." If I had said the same thing to either Jas or Vincent, I could not have elicited a more excited response.
The next day, I had Haley dress up in my clothes. We are pretty much the same size, and the dressed Haley certainly looked better than some of our scarecrows. Out in our shed, I picked out a sizable orange pumpkin, and said, "It's a gift." I also gave her one of my extra glow rings, just, "In case it gets too dark." We took the mine carts to town, and walked towards 2 Willow Lane. Coming up to the sewer gate, I took out my key and cracked open the lid. Although that gate had been twenty feet from Haley's house all her life, she had never seen anyone open it before, and peered down into the dark. She then jerked her head back, and said, "What's that horrid smell?" I told her that, "Right under your house lives a very special creature - so strange and unusual that you couldn't imagine it if you tried. But to see him, you'll have to block out and endure the smell." Haley squeezed her eyes tight, and took a few more breaths. I gave her time to see if she could adjust. Finally, she nodded her head. I descended the ladder first, and waited at the bottom. She came down one rung at a time, and I talked calmly to her to reassure her that I really was there, waiting for her. It wasn't too dark. Upon reaching the floor, she looked around at the sub terrain world, the walls, to the pools a short distance away. Without saying a word, she pointed upwards, and I let her climb back up the ladder. I followed. Outside, she was taking deep breaths, not so much to exchange foul air for fresh, but to calm her racing heart. Meanwhile, I was trying to steady her with, "Think of it as an underground cellar, just a smelly place with walls. You won't get hurt, and I will hold your hand tight the entire way. It's not very far to go." I'll say this for Haley, she can be very determined. Soon, we were at the bottom of the ladder again, and I took her hand and walked towards the water. The wall turned to her left, and then, as it ended, she saw Krobus. Krobus saw her, and for an instant, it was a contest to see who was frightened the most. I broke the ice by calling out, "Hi Krobus. Meet my wife, Haley. She's friendly and doesn't bite." Krobus answered back, "There's two of you. This is most unusual." Haley whispered (rather loudly in the quiet room) to me, "It looks like a talking shadow. You can see right through him. And he lives right under my old house!" I reached into my backpack, pulled out the pumpkin, and handed it to Haley. She needed two hands to hold it, so I let go, and told her to, "Offer him a pumpkin, and see what happens." She gingerly took two steps in the direction of Krobus and held out the pumpkin. Krobus lit up (if it can be said that a shadow person can light up), and said, "It is a great honor for me to receive this gift from you." Looking at Haley, he continued with, "Maybe you would like to shop. Care to see my wares?" At the magical word "shop," Haley somehow forgot all about the smell, the dripping water, the strange shadow creature, and scanned the offered list of items. Suddenly, two beings who were gingerly dancing about each other a moment ago, were now looking pretty happy. Krobus with his pumpkin and Haley shopping. Eventually, she settled on a rhubarb pie (for desert tonight). I piped up, "It's time to go. Krobus, we'll see you again another time." I then grabbed Haley's hand, and together we walked along the edge of the flowing stream of sewage towards the back exit. (I deliberately didn't point out the statue of uncertainty or the mutant bug lair). Once outside in the (wonderful) fresh air, we climbed the short set of stairs and together fell flat on our backs in the grass of Cindersap forest, and looked up at fluffy white clouds. For a while, we just aired out. Finally, Haley recovers her breath and composure enough to start talking. "Ugh, the smell was horrible, and the green bubbly goo gives me the shivers just to think about it, and for sure, I've never done or seen anything like that before. But Krobus was great! Emmy would never dream that he lives right under our house." I answer with, "Very few villagers know of his existence. You're the cutest, stinkiest, bravest girl to do so." Her reflective answer came back as, "Wow, that was something. You're my favorite husband. I think I'll keep you." And with that, she whispered in my ear, "I love you." I could not help but think that once we get all cleaned up, who knows, maybe that pie will keep for another night.
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Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-54
Today was one of those days where Haley spends some time with Emily, and since I was also going that way, together we took the minecarts to town, and walked towards 2 Willow Lane. Passing a bulletin board, I saw a request for some bone fragments. Over the course of mining, I had collected some bone fragments, but never anything like the 100 that was requested. Never-the-less, I marked down that I would take on the challenge (if you don't take a challenge, it stays on the board forever). Dropping Haley off at Emily's, I headed for Willie's shack, and purchased a ticket for Ginger Island. This was my third trip out there, and a lot of time had passed since my last visit. On the way out to the island, I teased Willie about my adventures trying to catch a giant sea cucumber. It had to be the world' slipperiest, slimiest, yellowest creature, and it fought the fishing line like crazy. Finally, when I had Willie pushed right up to the edge of jealousy and excitement, I pulled the 'fish' out of my backpack and gave it to him as a gift.
Once I was dropped off, my eyes took in the usual intense blue sky and my ears could hear the usual squawky parrots. I headed for the treehouse to see if that little boy was still there and he was. Giving gifts is the best way to make friends in the valley, and this morning before I had left, I asked Haley what she thought that a parrot-boy would like as a gift. I suggested ice cream. She countered with a pretty green duck feather. Never one to bet against Haley, I picked out a good-looking duck feather. Today, rather than immediately disappearing, the little boy watched me, while still keeping his distance. I pulled the feather out of my backpack, and instantly he lit up and a little bell went off in my head, "Ding, Ding. Winner Winner, chicken dinner." I held it out, and he came forward and took it, and thanked me in perfect parrot-accented English with, "I'm going to take it back to my nest." Then he darted off into the trees. Climbing down from the treehouse, I noticed that the ground was covered with a lot of fiber plants. I never miss an opportunity to collect fiber, as it is easily converted into grass, the favorite consumable for farm animals. While whacking away, I accidentally discovered a hidden opening in the jungle that led to something that looked like a shrine. There were four columns, arranged like the ordinal points of a compass, and a cryptic message saying something about birds and rain. I looked up, but all I can see is a solid sheet of green leaves. It is a tropical island, and I do suppose that it must rain sometime, but on three visits, I had never even seen a tiny cloud. Not having much of an answer, I finished up with the scything, and headed out of the jungle for more things to discover.
Flowing out of a hole in the hillside, was a small pool and stream, and I crossed over using what was obviously a plank bridge to the other side. From there, I could make out a distinct voice asking for help. Examining the pile of rocks in front of me, it was clear that either a landslide or cave-in had blocked the exit. I yelled out, "Is anyone there?" and it wasn't an echo when I heard, "Help, I'm trapped in here." Down in the mines, I've broken more rocks than some chain-gang prisoners, and I thought that it would be easy to pickaxe my way through. Wrong. My best giant swing accomplished nothing more than a dented pickaxe and ringing in my ears. Hoe and sword were also useless. I felt stupid in even trying these, but I was quickly running out of options. It was only by sheer luck that I kept the answer stored in the bottom of my backpack, and after warning the trapped person to stand clear of the cave-in, managed to get him out. Immediately, I was introduced to Professor Snail, who was the sole occupant of the tent I had seen earlier. He gave me an enthusiastic, "Thank you for rescuing me. One more mushroom salad and I would have gone off the deep end." I knew what he was talking about, having tasted exactly one too many cave carrots. We walked back to his tent, and he explained that he was a biologist interested in studying the flora and fauna of the island. He would be delighted (and make it worth my while) if I could help him out, especially if on my explorations of the island I came upon some unusual bones or plants. He suggested that I start by returning to the cave-in site and collecting some of the rocks there.
Back across the bridge I went, and the Professor was right, there was a whole field of rocks, many with bones. I thought about the request for bone fragments back in the village, and started pounding away. In an hour and a half of hard work, I collected all kinds of good stuff, including a ton of bone fragments, and even a golden walnut. I probably could have accomplished even more, but the setting sun told me that Haley would be waiting for me and that it was time to use the scepter.
Whoosh! I'm back on our front porch. Inside the house, I can hear Haley in the kitchen happily singing away, some silly song that went, "If you're happy and you know it, fart in your pants! If you're happy and you know it, your pants will really show it . . . " I have to smile. I know that I once dreamed about marrying a girl who was loaded with enthusiasm and kid-like, but . . . I do shake my head and wonder. I open the door, and make a loud farty noise by blowing against my hand, and she laughs, "I knew you were outside. Supper's almost ready. Get on in here and help me." Nothing in the world could make me happier.
Today was one of those days where Haley spends some time with Emily, and since I was also going that way, together we took the minecarts to town, and walked towards 2 Willow Lane. Passing a bulletin board, I saw a request for some bone fragments. Over the course of mining, I had collected some bone fragments, but never anything like the 100 that was requested. Never-the-less, I marked down that I would take on the challenge (if you don't take a challenge, it stays on the board forever). Dropping Haley off at Emily's, I headed for Willie's shack, and purchased a ticket for Ginger Island. This was my third trip out there, and a lot of time had passed since my last visit. On the way out to the island, I teased Willie about my adventures trying to catch a giant sea cucumber. It had to be the world' slipperiest, slimiest, yellowest creature, and it fought the fishing line like crazy. Finally, when I had Willie pushed right up to the edge of jealousy and excitement, I pulled the 'fish' out of my backpack and gave it to him as a gift.
Once I was dropped off, my eyes took in the usual intense blue sky and my ears could hear the usual squawky parrots. I headed for the treehouse to see if that little boy was still there and he was. Giving gifts is the best way to make friends in the valley, and this morning before I had left, I asked Haley what she thought that a parrot-boy would like as a gift. I suggested ice cream. She countered with a pretty green duck feather. Never one to bet against Haley, I picked out a good-looking duck feather. Today, rather than immediately disappearing, the little boy watched me, while still keeping his distance. I pulled the feather out of my backpack, and instantly he lit up and a little bell went off in my head, "Ding, Ding. Winner Winner, chicken dinner." I held it out, and he came forward and took it, and thanked me in perfect parrot-accented English with, "I'm going to take it back to my nest." Then he darted off into the trees. Climbing down from the treehouse, I noticed that the ground was covered with a lot of fiber plants. I never miss an opportunity to collect fiber, as it is easily converted into grass, the favorite consumable for farm animals. While whacking away, I accidentally discovered a hidden opening in the jungle that led to something that looked like a shrine. There were four columns, arranged like the ordinal points of a compass, and a cryptic message saying something about birds and rain. I looked up, but all I can see is a solid sheet of green leaves. It is a tropical island, and I do suppose that it must rain sometime, but on three visits, I had never even seen a tiny cloud. Not having much of an answer, I finished up with the scything, and headed out of the jungle for more things to discover.
Flowing out of a hole in the hillside, was a small pool and stream, and I crossed over using what was obviously a plank bridge to the other side. From there, I could make out a distinct voice asking for help. Examining the pile of rocks in front of me, it was clear that either a landslide or cave-in had blocked the exit. I yelled out, "Is anyone there?" and it wasn't an echo when I heard, "Help, I'm trapped in here." Down in the mines, I've broken more rocks than some chain-gang prisoners, and I thought that it would be easy to pickaxe my way through. Wrong. My best giant swing accomplished nothing more than a dented pickaxe and ringing in my ears. Hoe and sword were also useless. I felt stupid in even trying these, but I was quickly running out of options. It was only by sheer luck that I kept the answer stored in the bottom of my backpack, and after warning the trapped person to stand clear of the cave-in, managed to get him out. Immediately, I was introduced to Professor Snail, who was the sole occupant of the tent I had seen earlier. He gave me an enthusiastic, "Thank you for rescuing me. One more mushroom salad and I would have gone off the deep end." I knew what he was talking about, having tasted exactly one too many cave carrots. We walked back to his tent, and he explained that he was a biologist interested in studying the flora and fauna of the island. He would be delighted (and make it worth my while) if I could help him out, especially if on my explorations of the island I came upon some unusual bones or plants. He suggested that I start by returning to the cave-in site and collecting some of the rocks there.
Back across the bridge I went, and the Professor was right, there was a whole field of rocks, many with bones. I thought about the request for bone fragments back in the village, and started pounding away. In an hour and a half of hard work, I collected all kinds of good stuff, including a ton of bone fragments, and even a golden walnut. I probably could have accomplished even more, but the setting sun told me that Haley would be waiting for me and that it was time to use the scepter.
Whoosh! I'm back on our front porch. Inside the house, I can hear Haley in the kitchen happily singing away, some silly song that went, "If you're happy and you know it, fart in your pants! If you're happy and you know it, your pants will really show it . . . " I have to smile. I know that I once dreamed about marrying a girl who was loaded with enthusiasm and kid-like, but . . . I do shake my head and wonder. I open the door, and make a loud farty noise by blowing against my hand, and she laughs, "I knew you were outside. Supper's almost ready. Get on in here and help me." Nothing in the world could make me happier.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-55
We're nearing the last few days of fall, and Haley has told me that this year she's going to go into the Wizard's maze with me. We'll see. She did pretty good with Krobus, but how far she'll go in a scary maze is another question entirely. Haley starts shaking just thinking about dark and scary. Getting her to go through the completely black tunnel to pick up the golden pumpkin will likely be impossible, unless I carry her through kicking and screaming.
Overall, the farm is pretty much shutdown. It's been chilly the last couple of nights, and I've already turned on the fireplaces. In another two weeks, I'll break out the Christmas decorations. The wood is stacked high, the silos are full, the animals are busy rooting out the last few patches of brown grass, and the only crop left is a field of summer corn. I'm hoping for one last harvest. Usually I don't plant much corn, as it is not a big money maker. But Haley loves the food from Mexico, and she's made me into a true convert. It's easy to make, and most everything takes corn. Almost on one day every week we have 'Fiesta Day'. The day begins with a breakfast burrito - eggs, potato, bacon, (and sometimes rice and beans if they are left over from the day before) all wrapped up in a tortilla. For lunch, it's fish tacos and a quesadilla (shredded cheese melted in a tortilla). I do the shredding, and Haley does the melting in the frying pan. For dinner, we each have a carne asada burrito. As Haley is frying up the carne asada, I chop up whatever greens and things that Haley pulls out of the cupboard that she uses to create a flavorful mix to go with the meat. Lastly, but not leastly, we add a big dollup of sour cream and wrap it all up in a tortilla. Over the course of a year, we go through a stack of tortillas.
Right now, we've just finished lunch, and Haley tells me, "I was looking at your farm computer today, and see what I found - Leah's website." As Haley scrolls down through the various sculptures and paintings, she suggests, "Let's buy one." I protest, "But Leah might think that its cheating in some way for someone she knows to purchase her art." "Oh Pooh," says Haley. "I really like this cute little mouse. Come on. Let's purchase it and I'll tell her myself that I just had to have it. She'll understand." "I do like the mouse," I agree. "We can hang it up in the guest bedroom. I'll place the order. Let's stop by the inn tonight and let her know that I'll come down and pick it up tomorrow so that she doesn't think that she has to do something silly like ship it in the mail," Haley adds.
The next morning dawns bright, blue, and cloud free. I can hear Haley moving about downstairs and Weasel letting her know that it's her breakfast time too. Pleasant smells are floating up from the kitchen. "Hey, where's my cute husband," a voice calls from the kitchen. "On my way," I respond, as I head for the bathroom. I turn on the new electric toothbrush that I've discovered I really like. Its only drawback is that somehow the vibrations always stimulate the urge to go pee. It's so much easier to get a thorough brushing than using that old hand brush. Let's see, what's on my list today. Oh yeah. I've got to add fresh caulking to hold in those glass panes of the greenhouse, so that the strong cold winds of winter cannot wiggle them loose or find a hole and cool the place down.
We sit at the little table, and Haley has really outdone herself this morning. Blueberry pancakes topped with extra berries and whipped topping. Alright! After taking a few bites of her pancake, Haley suddenly turns noticeably pale and vomits all over her breakfast, my breakfast, and me. "Ugh. I'm so sorry," she groans. "No! It's okay." I quickly get up and hand her a towel, and while she wipes her mouth, I hand her my glass of milk. "Here, take a drink to get rid of that awful taste." Haley nods, and takes a sip. "How do you feel? Can I help you to the bathroom?" I ask. Haley shakes her head no, and then says, "I feel better now. Ugh, look at the mess." "Don't worry, I'm a cleanup specialist. You still look a little pale and dizzy to me. Let me help you to the couch where you can lie down for a minute." Haley lets me guide her, and pretty soon breakfast is either in the garbage or in the sink. I came back from changing my clothes, and ask, "What do you think happened?" "I don't know. It came on so suddenly. I have been tired lately. Maybe I have the stomach flu." Looking at Haley without her ever-present sparkles was very disconcerting to me, and I felt really worried. Neither one of us had ever been sick before. When Haley said that she was up for it, we took a slow walk to Doc Harvey's clinic. I sat in the waiting room talking to Maru while Haley and the Doc were in the back. After twenty minutes, Haley came out, put her arms around me and gave me a reassuring kiss. "Guess what? I don't have the flu, and I'm not contagious. I'm pregnant! Lee, we're going to have a baby!!" My eyes go big, and I felt such an out-pouring of love for Haley. All I could say was, "You wonderful, wonderful girl. Maybe it will be twins!" Doc Harvey and Maru were both standing to one side beaming (and clapping at our mutual excitement. I mouthed a big WOW to them, and pointed at Haley, and everyone laughed. I told the doctor and Maru, "We'll be visiting you two again in about eight months." On our way out the door, Haley asks, "You know, we're right next to Pierre's and I wonder if we could stop and get a jar of pickles and maybe some ice cream too? I'm starving." It seems like a million years have gone by since that day when I first managed to open that jar of pickles for Haley. There was magic in that moment, magic between now and then that left behind a trail of fairy dust that only now I could see so clearly, as soon as Haley spoke the word, "Pickles."
We're nearing the last few days of fall, and Haley has told me that this year she's going to go into the Wizard's maze with me. We'll see. She did pretty good with Krobus, but how far she'll go in a scary maze is another question entirely. Haley starts shaking just thinking about dark and scary. Getting her to go through the completely black tunnel to pick up the golden pumpkin will likely be impossible, unless I carry her through kicking and screaming.
Overall, the farm is pretty much shutdown. It's been chilly the last couple of nights, and I've already turned on the fireplaces. In another two weeks, I'll break out the Christmas decorations. The wood is stacked high, the silos are full, the animals are busy rooting out the last few patches of brown grass, and the only crop left is a field of summer corn. I'm hoping for one last harvest. Usually I don't plant much corn, as it is not a big money maker. But Haley loves the food from Mexico, and she's made me into a true convert. It's easy to make, and most everything takes corn. Almost on one day every week we have 'Fiesta Day'. The day begins with a breakfast burrito - eggs, potato, bacon, (and sometimes rice and beans if they are left over from the day before) all wrapped up in a tortilla. For lunch, it's fish tacos and a quesadilla (shredded cheese melted in a tortilla). I do the shredding, and Haley does the melting in the frying pan. For dinner, we each have a carne asada burrito. As Haley is frying up the carne asada, I chop up whatever greens and things that Haley pulls out of the cupboard that she uses to create a flavorful mix to go with the meat. Lastly, but not leastly, we add a big dollup of sour cream and wrap it all up in a tortilla. Over the course of a year, we go through a stack of tortillas.
Right now, we've just finished lunch, and Haley tells me, "I was looking at your farm computer today, and see what I found - Leah's website." As Haley scrolls down through the various sculptures and paintings, she suggests, "Let's buy one." I protest, "But Leah might think that its cheating in some way for someone she knows to purchase her art." "Oh Pooh," says Haley. "I really like this cute little mouse. Come on. Let's purchase it and I'll tell her myself that I just had to have it. She'll understand." "I do like the mouse," I agree. "We can hang it up in the guest bedroom. I'll place the order. Let's stop by the inn tonight and let her know that I'll come down and pick it up tomorrow so that she doesn't think that she has to do something silly like ship it in the mail," Haley adds.
The next morning dawns bright, blue, and cloud free. I can hear Haley moving about downstairs and Weasel letting her know that it's her breakfast time too. Pleasant smells are floating up from the kitchen. "Hey, where's my cute husband," a voice calls from the kitchen. "On my way," I respond, as I head for the bathroom. I turn on the new electric toothbrush that I've discovered I really like. Its only drawback is that somehow the vibrations always stimulate the urge to go pee. It's so much easier to get a thorough brushing than using that old hand brush. Let's see, what's on my list today. Oh yeah. I've got to add fresh caulking to hold in those glass panes of the greenhouse, so that the strong cold winds of winter cannot wiggle them loose or find a hole and cool the place down.
We sit at the little table, and Haley has really outdone herself this morning. Blueberry pancakes topped with extra berries and whipped topping. Alright! After taking a few bites of her pancake, Haley suddenly turns noticeably pale and vomits all over her breakfast, my breakfast, and me. "Ugh. I'm so sorry," she groans. "No! It's okay." I quickly get up and hand her a towel, and while she wipes her mouth, I hand her my glass of milk. "Here, take a drink to get rid of that awful taste." Haley nods, and takes a sip. "How do you feel? Can I help you to the bathroom?" I ask. Haley shakes her head no, and then says, "I feel better now. Ugh, look at the mess." "Don't worry, I'm a cleanup specialist. You still look a little pale and dizzy to me. Let me help you to the couch where you can lie down for a minute." Haley lets me guide her, and pretty soon breakfast is either in the garbage or in the sink. I came back from changing my clothes, and ask, "What do you think happened?" "I don't know. It came on so suddenly. I have been tired lately. Maybe I have the stomach flu." Looking at Haley without her ever-present sparkles was very disconcerting to me, and I felt really worried. Neither one of us had ever been sick before. When Haley said that she was up for it, we took a slow walk to Doc Harvey's clinic. I sat in the waiting room talking to Maru while Haley and the Doc were in the back. After twenty minutes, Haley came out, put her arms around me and gave me a reassuring kiss. "Guess what? I don't have the flu, and I'm not contagious. I'm pregnant! Lee, we're going to have a baby!!" My eyes go big, and I felt such an out-pouring of love for Haley. All I could say was, "You wonderful, wonderful girl. Maybe it will be twins!" Doc Harvey and Maru were both standing to one side beaming (and clapping at our mutual excitement. I mouthed a big WOW to them, and pointed at Haley, and everyone laughed. I told the doctor and Maru, "We'll be visiting you two again in about eight months." On our way out the door, Haley asks, "You know, we're right next to Pierre's and I wonder if we could stop and get a jar of pickles and maybe some ice cream too? I'm starving." It seems like a million years have gone by since that day when I first managed to open that jar of pickles for Haley. There was magic in that moment, magic between now and then that left behind a trail of fairy dust that only now I could see so clearly, as soon as Haley spoke the word, "Pickles."
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-56
It would be so nice to say that Haley's pregnancy was a special time in our lives, filled with a growing sense of wonder at the changes taking place in her body. But no. No! Noooo! A vortex of the darkest clouds descended over our little farmhouse. In her first trimester, Haley was beset on all sides by either the dreaded nausea and vomiting, or to the shedding of unexplainable gallons of tears. Apparently, the hormones surging through her body were the exact opposite of the normal chemical balance that made her so delightful. Haley never had a lot of patience to begin with, and much like the child who asks, "Are we there yet," five minutes into a nine-our car ride, she was already done and over with the idea of being pregnant. It was like all the rules of life that had made our lives so rich and happy were either thrown out the window or turned inside out. So much of our daily silly banter around who was the strongest, the weakest, the smartest, the fastest, with all the freshness, discovery, and spontaneity of a pair of ten-year-olds disappeared, and now, physical comments were taboo. All my jokes that she used to laugh at a hundred times a day, now fell flatter than road-kill. It didn't help that it was also the dead of winter, without a lot of daily life-giving sunlight, and Haley had no-where to go. The barnyard animals started to miss her, as many mornings, she simply didn't feel like going out. I couldn't share her burden, and if I persisted in trying to be too helpful too much, she only found me annoying. For both of us, it was a time of torture and troubles. I also had this nagging worry that some of Haley's troubles could be all my fault, that maybe I should have taken more of Welwick's magic drops. Almost overnight, Haley became a shadow person, and somewhere deep inside, the real Haley was sleeping. For a lot of ladies, being pregnant is a great time for eating. All those previous dieting worries no longer exist, and every day is a buffet of eating for two. Not for Haley. Her diet now consisted of soups, crackers, puddings, jellos, some occasional fruit and ice cream, somewhat supplemented with an occasional craved item. I really supported her cravings, as I imagined that somehow those food items contained some essential nutrient that the baby was calling for. It gave me a great excuse to suddenly feel needed, to get out of the house, and head down to Pierre's to pick up her wishes. On truly "bad" days, I would call for backup and Emily would come by for a few hours. On her few "good" days, she liked to be held, and together we would try and imagine all the traits inherited from us that our child was going to have. It was such a relief to see her momentarily smile when we took all the worst traits, we could possibly imagine from each of us to create a very strange-looking and acting hybrid human.
Today is one of those days when I'm driving Haley nuts, and she points to the door and says, "Out!" With a whole day on my hands, I walk down to the docks and pay Willie to take me out to Ginger Island. As the boat points its nose out to sea, Willie turns to me and asks, "What's up, Matey? Looking to warm up out in the islands? What about your young wife?" "My pregnant sweetie is sick and sad and doesn't want to see my face for a while." "Too bad. Too bad, " Willie replies. He continues with, "I never got married, so I wouldn't know about the ups and downs of pretty lassies. When I was your age, I was a good lookin young man and from a distance, quite a few of the lassies gave me the eye. But I couldn't rid myself of the smell of fish, and as soon as some pretty birds would get close enough to land on me, off they would fly away." Without thinking, I broke out singing a few lines about Mr. Snow from the show Carousel, "The first time he kissed me the whiff from his clothes knocked me flat on the floor of the room. But now that I love him, my hearts in my nose. And fish is my favorite perfume." Willie replied, "Don't know the song. Sounds like I'm not the only one with a fish problem, but he had better luck than I." I told Willie that I've learned a thing or two about female noses. "Haley just about buried me out behind the chicken coop after I went inside that volcano. Rest assured; I'm steering clear of that smelly hazard." Willie nodded, "These days, I always sit by the door at Gus's, just to maintain a little airy ventilation. Otherwise, even Emily wouldn't be able to make it to my table and take an order." "Stop with these stories, Willy. My heart is breaking for you." "Don't be too sad on my account, young fella. I've given me heart to the sea, and the sea has been good to me.
The Sea Bass Pulled into the harbor pier and I hopped off. "Don't wait for me. I'll use some valley magic to get home." Willie waved, and gunned the engines. Remembering my luck on the last visit at fishing, I tried a few casts and managed to catch a couple of lionfish. "Sorry fish. You're supposed to be bad for the coral reefs. I'm sending you off to your new home in Willie's display case. The one labelled, "Catch of the Day." I had finally collected enough golden walnuts to bribe the oversized turtle. After being a resident in Stardew Valley for a while, one becomes accustomed to seeing the unexpected, so when the turtle vanished in a poof, I simply walked through the new opening. Of course, I was intensely curious to see what it was hiding (I also had one hand on my sword). And the answer is . . . a lot of what looks like pretty good farmland, currently growing a goodly collection of fiber. I start whacking away, taking care not to dent my scythe on the plentiful rocks, and gradually chop my way to a small creek, crossed in different places by plank bridges. I then look up and am surprised to see the wreckage of an ancient sailing vessel just off shore. Obviously, I was so engrossed in fiber collecting that I paid no attention to my surroundings. It's worth taking a closer look and it's near enough to shore that I was able to make my way on board without getting too wet. I go inside the still rather intact Captain's cabin, hoping for treasure or secrets, but I can only feel and hear the eerie creaking of the ship. All this is more than interesting, and I wish that I had the time to return to the island far more often than I do, but here I am having a blast while a pretty girl that I know is sitting at home, miserable and probably wailing. Maybe I can distract her with a table game. I pull out the scepter and . . . whoosh.
It would be so nice to say that Haley's pregnancy was a special time in our lives, filled with a growing sense of wonder at the changes taking place in her body. But no. No! Noooo! A vortex of the darkest clouds descended over our little farmhouse. In her first trimester, Haley was beset on all sides by either the dreaded nausea and vomiting, or to the shedding of unexplainable gallons of tears. Apparently, the hormones surging through her body were the exact opposite of the normal chemical balance that made her so delightful. Haley never had a lot of patience to begin with, and much like the child who asks, "Are we there yet," five minutes into a nine-our car ride, she was already done and over with the idea of being pregnant. It was like all the rules of life that had made our lives so rich and happy were either thrown out the window or turned inside out. So much of our daily silly banter around who was the strongest, the weakest, the smartest, the fastest, with all the freshness, discovery, and spontaneity of a pair of ten-year-olds disappeared, and now, physical comments were taboo. All my jokes that she used to laugh at a hundred times a day, now fell flatter than road-kill. It didn't help that it was also the dead of winter, without a lot of daily life-giving sunlight, and Haley had no-where to go. The barnyard animals started to miss her, as many mornings, she simply didn't feel like going out. I couldn't share her burden, and if I persisted in trying to be too helpful too much, she only found me annoying. For both of us, it was a time of torture and troubles. I also had this nagging worry that some of Haley's troubles could be all my fault, that maybe I should have taken more of Welwick's magic drops. Almost overnight, Haley became a shadow person, and somewhere deep inside, the real Haley was sleeping. For a lot of ladies, being pregnant is a great time for eating. All those previous dieting worries no longer exist, and every day is a buffet of eating for two. Not for Haley. Her diet now consisted of soups, crackers, puddings, jellos, some occasional fruit and ice cream, somewhat supplemented with an occasional craved item. I really supported her cravings, as I imagined that somehow those food items contained some essential nutrient that the baby was calling for. It gave me a great excuse to suddenly feel needed, to get out of the house, and head down to Pierre's to pick up her wishes. On truly "bad" days, I would call for backup and Emily would come by for a few hours. On her few "good" days, she liked to be held, and together we would try and imagine all the traits inherited from us that our child was going to have. It was such a relief to see her momentarily smile when we took all the worst traits, we could possibly imagine from each of us to create a very strange-looking and acting hybrid human.
Today is one of those days when I'm driving Haley nuts, and she points to the door and says, "Out!" With a whole day on my hands, I walk down to the docks and pay Willie to take me out to Ginger Island. As the boat points its nose out to sea, Willie turns to me and asks, "What's up, Matey? Looking to warm up out in the islands? What about your young wife?" "My pregnant sweetie is sick and sad and doesn't want to see my face for a while." "Too bad. Too bad, " Willie replies. He continues with, "I never got married, so I wouldn't know about the ups and downs of pretty lassies. When I was your age, I was a good lookin young man and from a distance, quite a few of the lassies gave me the eye. But I couldn't rid myself of the smell of fish, and as soon as some pretty birds would get close enough to land on me, off they would fly away." Without thinking, I broke out singing a few lines about Mr. Snow from the show Carousel, "The first time he kissed me the whiff from his clothes knocked me flat on the floor of the room. But now that I love him, my hearts in my nose. And fish is my favorite perfume." Willie replied, "Don't know the song. Sounds like I'm not the only one with a fish problem, but he had better luck than I." I told Willie that I've learned a thing or two about female noses. "Haley just about buried me out behind the chicken coop after I went inside that volcano. Rest assured; I'm steering clear of that smelly hazard." Willie nodded, "These days, I always sit by the door at Gus's, just to maintain a little airy ventilation. Otherwise, even Emily wouldn't be able to make it to my table and take an order." "Stop with these stories, Willy. My heart is breaking for you." "Don't be too sad on my account, young fella. I've given me heart to the sea, and the sea has been good to me.
The Sea Bass Pulled into the harbor pier and I hopped off. "Don't wait for me. I'll use some valley magic to get home." Willie waved, and gunned the engines. Remembering my luck on the last visit at fishing, I tried a few casts and managed to catch a couple of lionfish. "Sorry fish. You're supposed to be bad for the coral reefs. I'm sending you off to your new home in Willie's display case. The one labelled, "Catch of the Day." I had finally collected enough golden walnuts to bribe the oversized turtle. After being a resident in Stardew Valley for a while, one becomes accustomed to seeing the unexpected, so when the turtle vanished in a poof, I simply walked through the new opening. Of course, I was intensely curious to see what it was hiding (I also had one hand on my sword). And the answer is . . . a lot of what looks like pretty good farmland, currently growing a goodly collection of fiber. I start whacking away, taking care not to dent my scythe on the plentiful rocks, and gradually chop my way to a small creek, crossed in different places by plank bridges. I then look up and am surprised to see the wreckage of an ancient sailing vessel just off shore. Obviously, I was so engrossed in fiber collecting that I paid no attention to my surroundings. It's worth taking a closer look and it's near enough to shore that I was able to make my way on board without getting too wet. I go inside the still rather intact Captain's cabin, hoping for treasure or secrets, but I can only feel and hear the eerie creaking of the ship. All this is more than interesting, and I wish that I had the time to return to the island far more often than I do, but here I am having a blast while a pretty girl that I know is sitting at home, miserable and probably wailing. Maybe I can distract her with a table game. I pull out the scepter and . . . whoosh.
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-57
After clearing the farm of wood, stones and detritus collected over the winter, I accumulate a pile of 999 wood, and early one afternoon, head for Robin's house to cash in the surplus. Of course, she is full of excited questions about Haley and the baby, and it is hard to be polite without revealing too much of our troubles. In a tactful way of retreating, I look to my right, spot Demetrius in his laboratory, and head that way. It has been years since I was last in the laboratory, giving a hand to Maru, and I still distinctly recall Demetrius warning me about getting too close to Maru. Of course, by now, I am no threat to steal away his daughter, and he has likely long forgotten that incident. I'm thinking that here in Stardew Valley he must be feeling rather isolated, a feeling reinforced by the occasional note that he sends me expressing his thanks over my taking an interest in his work. It's hard to remember the last time I talked with him - seems like several seasons ago when I gave him (at the time) my only pufferfish. Hearing footsteps, he looks up from his microscope, and say, "Hi Lee. How is the farming business going? And how is Haley doing?" I reply, "The farm is blooming in the spring, but Haley has had better days." "I'm sorry to hear that. It's hard to keep wives happy. Robin has a hot temper and I know what it feels like when the lady of the house is out of sorts." Trying to change the subject, I ask him about is current project.
"Here, take a look." Demetrius backs away from the microscope and I peer into the instrument. Apparently, his eyes are wider apart than mine, because I have to make an adjustment with the eyepieces before I can see anything. But in the bright light below my eyes, an entire world opens up. there are long cables of bright green that can only be algae. Smaller brown boats glide by, looking like something out of the Nile River. These must be diatoms. Most prominent of all are big hairy copepods chugging merrily through the scene. They sport pairs of long antennae out in front, and a variety of different tails. A few females are even carrying packets of eggs near their tails. No wonder Demetrius is always talking about copepods. It's a hidden wonder world, and everything looks so bright and clean. Standing behind me, Demetrius comments that, "I got this water sample out of the lake this morning." "To me, it looks impressively healthy," I reply. "It is. The melted snow has percolated down through the mines, which function as a giant filter to remove contaminants. At the same time, the ore in the mine slightly acidifies the pH of the water, forming an environment that favors the copepods," he adds. "What do the copepods eat?" I ask. Demetrius answers with, "They eat phytoplankton. You can easily see the large green algae. But if you look closer, you can see smaller specks of green and brown algae swimming about." Now that I know what I'm looking for, I do see different shapes of green moving rather sedately, propelled (some pushed, some pulled) by long whiplike flagella. I stand up and comment, "There's a lot to see here." "You're right." Demetrius smiles at my interest and starts to point out some of the purposes for the instruments in his lab. "This is a spectrophotometer. In order to test for sulfates, phosphates, iron, copper, nickel, cadmium, I make many chemical reactions that result in the formation of a color, which this instrument can measure. This instrument here measures water turbidity. It's an indirect measure of how many particles are in the water. Left of the microscope is a standard pH meter. It tells me whether the water is acid or alkaline. This is a colorimeter. Those tubes you see are standards used to compare against the actual color of the water." Suddenly, I'm struck by a thought that I'm feeling what Leah was feeling at the Feast of the winter Star when Gus was explaining how he made candy canes. "Does the water ever change?" I ask. "Well, it certainly did when the earthquake opened up the new outlet to the left of the mine opening," he answered. "The mineral content of the water underwent a sharp increase." "And what about my new-found buddies the copepods?" "Oh, they fared perfectly well. The extra iron in the water only served to increase the number of algae present. With more food, the copepods ate well."
I had never looked very closely in the laboratory before, so I was surprised to see a picture of myself fishing from the lake posted on a small bulletin board. "It looks as if I'm on your most wanted list," I observed. Demetrius chuckled, "Not really. I have trail cameras posted all around the lake in order to survey the wildlife and other denizens that might visit the area." Next to my picture was one of Linus bending over to gather something off of the ground. And to my surprise, there was another picture of the cave dwarf out fishing. I pointed to that one, and Demetrius explained, "He only comes out of the cave at night, and probably jumped halfway out of his skin when the flash went off." There were no pictures of monsters or unrecognizable creatures, and when I ask Demetrius about that he replies that, "Down in the mines there are plenty of nasty creatures, but they never seem to leave the mines." It then dawns on me that I told Haley that I would only be gone for a few minutes, and the distraction of the laboratory has taken a lot longer. I hurriedly tell Demetrius that his work seems very interesting and valuable, but that I've got to return home. Once outside their house, I use the scepter to make up time, and instantly arrive on our front porch. Inside, in the kitchen, an ever-growing-larger Haley is working hard with colored pencils at filling in one of those coloring books for adults. I watch her for a few minutes, and then tell her that it looks really colorful. In the pre-pregnant days, I would have teased her about staying inside the lines (not today). As I take some of her pencils to the sharpener, I can feel my own relief that for just a few moments, Haley is doing okay.
After clearing the farm of wood, stones and detritus collected over the winter, I accumulate a pile of 999 wood, and early one afternoon, head for Robin's house to cash in the surplus. Of course, she is full of excited questions about Haley and the baby, and it is hard to be polite without revealing too much of our troubles. In a tactful way of retreating, I look to my right, spot Demetrius in his laboratory, and head that way. It has been years since I was last in the laboratory, giving a hand to Maru, and I still distinctly recall Demetrius warning me about getting too close to Maru. Of course, by now, I am no threat to steal away his daughter, and he has likely long forgotten that incident. I'm thinking that here in Stardew Valley he must be feeling rather isolated, a feeling reinforced by the occasional note that he sends me expressing his thanks over my taking an interest in his work. It's hard to remember the last time I talked with him - seems like several seasons ago when I gave him (at the time) my only pufferfish. Hearing footsteps, he looks up from his microscope, and say, "Hi Lee. How is the farming business going? And how is Haley doing?" I reply, "The farm is blooming in the spring, but Haley has had better days." "I'm sorry to hear that. It's hard to keep wives happy. Robin has a hot temper and I know what it feels like when the lady of the house is out of sorts." Trying to change the subject, I ask him about is current project.
"Here, take a look." Demetrius backs away from the microscope and I peer into the instrument. Apparently, his eyes are wider apart than mine, because I have to make an adjustment with the eyepieces before I can see anything. But in the bright light below my eyes, an entire world opens up. there are long cables of bright green that can only be algae. Smaller brown boats glide by, looking like something out of the Nile River. These must be diatoms. Most prominent of all are big hairy copepods chugging merrily through the scene. They sport pairs of long antennae out in front, and a variety of different tails. A few females are even carrying packets of eggs near their tails. No wonder Demetrius is always talking about copepods. It's a hidden wonder world, and everything looks so bright and clean. Standing behind me, Demetrius comments that, "I got this water sample out of the lake this morning." "To me, it looks impressively healthy," I reply. "It is. The melted snow has percolated down through the mines, which function as a giant filter to remove contaminants. At the same time, the ore in the mine slightly acidifies the pH of the water, forming an environment that favors the copepods," he adds. "What do the copepods eat?" I ask. Demetrius answers with, "They eat phytoplankton. You can easily see the large green algae. But if you look closer, you can see smaller specks of green and brown algae swimming about." Now that I know what I'm looking for, I do see different shapes of green moving rather sedately, propelled (some pushed, some pulled) by long whiplike flagella. I stand up and comment, "There's a lot to see here." "You're right." Demetrius smiles at my interest and starts to point out some of the purposes for the instruments in his lab. "This is a spectrophotometer. In order to test for sulfates, phosphates, iron, copper, nickel, cadmium, I make many chemical reactions that result in the formation of a color, which this instrument can measure. This instrument here measures water turbidity. It's an indirect measure of how many particles are in the water. Left of the microscope is a standard pH meter. It tells me whether the water is acid or alkaline. This is a colorimeter. Those tubes you see are standards used to compare against the actual color of the water." Suddenly, I'm struck by a thought that I'm feeling what Leah was feeling at the Feast of the winter Star when Gus was explaining how he made candy canes. "Does the water ever change?" I ask. "Well, it certainly did when the earthquake opened up the new outlet to the left of the mine opening," he answered. "The mineral content of the water underwent a sharp increase." "And what about my new-found buddies the copepods?" "Oh, they fared perfectly well. The extra iron in the water only served to increase the number of algae present. With more food, the copepods ate well."
I had never looked very closely in the laboratory before, so I was surprised to see a picture of myself fishing from the lake posted on a small bulletin board. "It looks as if I'm on your most wanted list," I observed. Demetrius chuckled, "Not really. I have trail cameras posted all around the lake in order to survey the wildlife and other denizens that might visit the area." Next to my picture was one of Linus bending over to gather something off of the ground. And to my surprise, there was another picture of the cave dwarf out fishing. I pointed to that one, and Demetrius explained, "He only comes out of the cave at night, and probably jumped halfway out of his skin when the flash went off." There were no pictures of monsters or unrecognizable creatures, and when I ask Demetrius about that he replies that, "Down in the mines there are plenty of nasty creatures, but they never seem to leave the mines." It then dawns on me that I told Haley that I would only be gone for a few minutes, and the distraction of the laboratory has taken a lot longer. I hurriedly tell Demetrius that his work seems very interesting and valuable, but that I've got to return home. Once outside their house, I use the scepter to make up time, and instantly arrive on our front porch. Inside, in the kitchen, an ever-growing-larger Haley is working hard with colored pencils at filling in one of those coloring books for adults. I watch her for a few minutes, and then tell her that it looks really colorful. In the pre-pregnant days, I would have teased her about staying inside the lines (not today). As I take some of her pencils to the sharpener, I can feel my own relief that for just a few moments, Haley is doing okay.
Lunaria Tsukano
Tiller
Awwwww how sweet!!!
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-58
Normally outgoing and social, Haley didn't want people to see her pregnant. She also didn't want me to take any pictures of her. At twenty weeks, we had Doc Harvey do an ultrasound, and found out that we were going to have a little girl. There are a couple of blurry pictures in the photo album of little Cassie at that time. It had not taken us long to pick out a name. The valley already had an Abigale, and Zuzu City was full of Brittany's (spelled in various ways). We both liked Cassie because the name sounded bright and happy, a young lady full of spunk and excitement.
As the days passed, Haley no longer seemed to be asking, "Are we there yet?" Instead, she grew more and more resigned to her fate, knowing that counting the days only made each and every one stretch out longer. Thinking of stretching, some ladies gain weight everywhere and take on a lot of water. Not Haley. As far as I could tell, her body was unchanged, with the single exception of a growing (now huge) round watermelon under her skin where her belly button was (formerly an inny, now an outy). We kept Emily busy modifying (and ever enlarging) Haley's maternity clothes. Still, there were a few moments to treasure. I was with Haley when Cassie gave her that first good kick in the stomach. Haley's eyes opened wide, and just for a second, I caught a glimpse of the real Haley experiencing firsthand the joy of new life. We began walking more. Whenever we came to a hill, she'd stop and then I would get behind her and push her butt up the hill. If you saw us, you would laugh, and even Haley would give out a tiny smile as I boosted her up the hill.
The days of spring melted away, one by one, and at about eight months along, Emily hosted a baby shower. Haley didn't want to go. In the pre-baby-on-board days, I would have thrown an empty pillowcase at her and told her to, "Wear it over your head." And Haley would have laughed and hit me back with something twice as sassy. Not today. I walked her down. Sadly, mine carts and ponies are off limits these days. All the ladies in the valley attended, and as much as she didn't want to be there, Haley was the center of attention. I have one pirated picture of the event with a sitting Haley looking very much like the Ugly Duckling in a hen house. She was so relieved when I came to retrieve her and to help push her home. Almost home, her fake face of stoicness melted away, and she started to cry, not in an angry or frustrated way, but much like a little girl who is depressed and lost.
Once inside, I parked her next to the fireplace and even though it was late spring, I lit the fire. Looking at her feeling so dejected, I felt an intuitive idea coming on and I had to act on it. First, I made her a hot chocolate, and told her that I'd be gone for a short while to pick up supper at Gus's. I ran down to the saloon and ordered a pizza, and while it was cooking, headed over to Emily's. She was still busy cleaning up after the party, and I asked her, "What kind of essential oil does she have that Haley both likes, and would find relaxing." She picked out a bottle of lavender oil from her collection. After a quick thanks, I grabbed some of Haley's shower gifts, headed back to Gus's to pick up the pizza and raced back for home. Haley hadn't moved, but the hot chocolate was half empty. Moving very determinedly, I retrieved a bottle of truffle oil, mixed it together with the entire contents of Emily's bottle of lavender oil, and heated the concoction until it felt warm to the touch. I then announced that a World-Famous massage therapist was supposed to come from Zuzu City tonight, but had gotten lost and couldn't find Stardew Valley, and as a result, the great Swami Lee had been chosen to take her place as a substitute. So please move to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Of course, Haley knew that I was lying like a pig, but she did as I instructed. I took our blankets off of the bed and had her lay down on her left side on the top sheet. Standing over her, I started rubbing the oil in, beginning at the neck. The feeling of the warm oil caught her by surprise, as did the soothing odor of Emily's lavender. At first, her eyes were open, and she was as stiff as a board, but gradually, I could feel her relax. How was I feeling? A sense of determination had taken hold of me, and I was intently focused on trying to relieve some of Haley's discomfort. I rubbed oil into every inch of her, every muscle, every crack and crevice, between the fingers and toes. I flexed her wrists and ankles. Since she couldn't lay on her stomach, I was at an awkward angle, but she could lean away from me, giving me access to her back. I ran my thumbs and heel of my hand up and down her backbone. As I rubbed, I talked to her about a story that I continually made up as I went along, "Imagining that she was lying on the beach by her old house, resting on the towels, the world's cutest girl without a care in the world . . . . " Gradually, her eyes started to close. I imagined that my hands were conduits, taking health and energy from me and pouring it into Haley. Because my hands were so slippery, I could use considerable strength, especially on the long muscles of her thighs and calves, and every once in a while, I could elicit a little, "Ooh", out of her. Clearly, some of my own frustrations were oozing away through my fingertips. After one side was well oiled and rubbed, I had her shift to the other side, giving me access to her uppermost butt cheek and leg. I moved to the other side of the bed, and the whole process began as before. She could lay on her back, so her front side was easier to reach, and I spent lots of time there. When I was finished, she could have slept right then and there, but I took off my clothes, made her get up, and I walked her to the shower. Once there, under the rather warm water, I soaped down every inch that had been oiled, and the water helped to maintain her feeling of warmth. While she toweled down, I quickly removed the two sheets and mattress cover, and remade the bed, making it look fresh and inviting. Haley reappeared wearing her nightgown, and I pulled back the covers and invited her to do her best to get back into bed. I tucked her in, gave her a good night kiss on the forehead, and exactly like a little girl who has just had a story read to her, she closed her eyes and was asleep in seconds.
Cleanup consisted of putting the bedclothes into the laundry washer with extra soap. There was also a trail of oil from the bed to the shower, which I wiped up. At last, I sat down alone in the kitchen, ate a slice of cold pizza, and wondered, "How much longer?" Actually, I really didn't care how much longer, because Haley was worth it. But still . . . "How much longer?"
Normally outgoing and social, Haley didn't want people to see her pregnant. She also didn't want me to take any pictures of her. At twenty weeks, we had Doc Harvey do an ultrasound, and found out that we were going to have a little girl. There are a couple of blurry pictures in the photo album of little Cassie at that time. It had not taken us long to pick out a name. The valley already had an Abigale, and Zuzu City was full of Brittany's (spelled in various ways). We both liked Cassie because the name sounded bright and happy, a young lady full of spunk and excitement.
As the days passed, Haley no longer seemed to be asking, "Are we there yet?" Instead, she grew more and more resigned to her fate, knowing that counting the days only made each and every one stretch out longer. Thinking of stretching, some ladies gain weight everywhere and take on a lot of water. Not Haley. As far as I could tell, her body was unchanged, with the single exception of a growing (now huge) round watermelon under her skin where her belly button was (formerly an inny, now an outy). We kept Emily busy modifying (and ever enlarging) Haley's maternity clothes. Still, there were a few moments to treasure. I was with Haley when Cassie gave her that first good kick in the stomach. Haley's eyes opened wide, and just for a second, I caught a glimpse of the real Haley experiencing firsthand the joy of new life. We began walking more. Whenever we came to a hill, she'd stop and then I would get behind her and push her butt up the hill. If you saw us, you would laugh, and even Haley would give out a tiny smile as I boosted her up the hill.
The days of spring melted away, one by one, and at about eight months along, Emily hosted a baby shower. Haley didn't want to go. In the pre-baby-on-board days, I would have thrown an empty pillowcase at her and told her to, "Wear it over your head." And Haley would have laughed and hit me back with something twice as sassy. Not today. I walked her down. Sadly, mine carts and ponies are off limits these days. All the ladies in the valley attended, and as much as she didn't want to be there, Haley was the center of attention. I have one pirated picture of the event with a sitting Haley looking very much like the Ugly Duckling in a hen house. She was so relieved when I came to retrieve her and to help push her home. Almost home, her fake face of stoicness melted away, and she started to cry, not in an angry or frustrated way, but much like a little girl who is depressed and lost.
Once inside, I parked her next to the fireplace and even though it was late spring, I lit the fire. Looking at her feeling so dejected, I felt an intuitive idea coming on and I had to act on it. First, I made her a hot chocolate, and told her that I'd be gone for a short while to pick up supper at Gus's. I ran down to the saloon and ordered a pizza, and while it was cooking, headed over to Emily's. She was still busy cleaning up after the party, and I asked her, "What kind of essential oil does she have that Haley both likes, and would find relaxing." She picked out a bottle of lavender oil from her collection. After a quick thanks, I grabbed some of Haley's shower gifts, headed back to Gus's to pick up the pizza and raced back for home. Haley hadn't moved, but the hot chocolate was half empty. Moving very determinedly, I retrieved a bottle of truffle oil, mixed it together with the entire contents of Emily's bottle of lavender oil, and heated the concoction until it felt warm to the touch. I then announced that a World-Famous massage therapist was supposed to come from Zuzu City tonight, but had gotten lost and couldn't find Stardew Valley, and as a result, the great Swami Lee had been chosen to take her place as a substitute. So please move to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Of course, Haley knew that I was lying like a pig, but she did as I instructed. I took our blankets off of the bed and had her lay down on her left side on the top sheet. Standing over her, I started rubbing the oil in, beginning at the neck. The feeling of the warm oil caught her by surprise, as did the soothing odor of Emily's lavender. At first, her eyes were open, and she was as stiff as a board, but gradually, I could feel her relax. How was I feeling? A sense of determination had taken hold of me, and I was intently focused on trying to relieve some of Haley's discomfort. I rubbed oil into every inch of her, every muscle, every crack and crevice, between the fingers and toes. I flexed her wrists and ankles. Since she couldn't lay on her stomach, I was at an awkward angle, but she could lean away from me, giving me access to her back. I ran my thumbs and heel of my hand up and down her backbone. As I rubbed, I talked to her about a story that I continually made up as I went along, "Imagining that she was lying on the beach by her old house, resting on the towels, the world's cutest girl without a care in the world . . . . " Gradually, her eyes started to close. I imagined that my hands were conduits, taking health and energy from me and pouring it into Haley. Because my hands were so slippery, I could use considerable strength, especially on the long muscles of her thighs and calves, and every once in a while, I could elicit a little, "Ooh", out of her. Clearly, some of my own frustrations were oozing away through my fingertips. After one side was well oiled and rubbed, I had her shift to the other side, giving me access to her uppermost butt cheek and leg. I moved to the other side of the bed, and the whole process began as before. She could lay on her back, so her front side was easier to reach, and I spent lots of time there. When I was finished, she could have slept right then and there, but I took off my clothes, made her get up, and I walked her to the shower. Once there, under the rather warm water, I soaped down every inch that had been oiled, and the water helped to maintain her feeling of warmth. While she toweled down, I quickly removed the two sheets and mattress cover, and remade the bed, making it look fresh and inviting. Haley reappeared wearing her nightgown, and I pulled back the covers and invited her to do her best to get back into bed. I tucked her in, gave her a good night kiss on the forehead, and exactly like a little girl who has just had a story read to her, she closed her eyes and was asleep in seconds.
Cleanup consisted of putting the bedclothes into the laundry washer with extra soap. There was also a trail of oil from the bed to the shower, which I wiped up. At last, I sat down alone in the kitchen, ate a slice of cold pizza, and wondered, "How much longer?" Actually, I really didn't care how much longer, because Haley was worth it. But still . . . "How much longer?"
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-59
Now in early summer, as Haley's due date approached, we made sure that Doc Harvey and Maru were not planning on being absent for the next week or so. Around noon on the eleventh, Haley was standing in the kitchen when her water broke. While she changed underwear, I cleaned up and retrieved our prepared little kit of supplies to take to the clinic. We then began the slow walk to the clinic. I felt like a cheerful little tugboat escorting a giant ocean liner into the harbor. Once inside, Haley switched into a loose-fitting hospital gown, and sat on the bed while first Doc Harvey and then Maru examined her. When you are having a baby, all modesty is thrown out the window. Both concluded that Haley still had quite a way to go. Haley had read a lot about natural childbirth, had seriously considered the possibility, and had practiced some breathing techniques. She was connected to a chart recorder that measured each contraction and I could see the needle moving before Haley could feel one coming on. It took exactly one serious mountain sized contraction for Haley to forget all about natural childbirth, and to request the epidural. Fortunately, Doc Harvey got everything right for placing the injection, and after taking a few more major hits, Haley was woozy but no longer gritting her teeth and freaking out. The hands on the clock moved ever so slowly, and after midnight, Maru was the only one giving Haley an hourly check, as Harvey had gone to bed. Very little had changed. My role was simply to hold Haley's hand, feeling her squeeze as a contraction passed through her, to give her little sips of ice water, and to apply lip balm as requested. All I could do was to helplessly watch closeup, every wince of pain, definitely mental torture. Around the lit room, fans whirred, instrument lights blinked, and the clock ticked. By eight the next morning, Harvey was back, but there was nothing to report on Haley. By now, the poor girl had been up for twenty-four hours, and was starting to get worried. At first, it had been all excitement and adrenaline, but now both those feelings and the accompanying energy were long gone. I don't think that I had ever stayed up all night before, but surprisingly, I was wide awake. Sure, I was calmer than Haley, but had I been in her shoes, I would be worried too. At noon, there was a little conference between the four of us. Apparently, progress was measured in terms of "dilation" and while Haley was progressing, it was incremental at best. Her slender little girl hips were not well suited as an exit path for a baby, and as a first-time mother, slow progress was normal. An hour later, the chart recording contractions gradually picked up speed and intensity, and our little team knew that the end was near. Around two-thirty, Doc Harvey told Haley to start pushing. Of course, Haley was exhausted, and the epidural didn't help matters, but she was young and strong and pushed. I watched, as first the top of a little head became visible, and then rather quickly, a whole head came out, followed by a tiny tadpole-like body, a cord, and reddish placenta. Not for the faint hearted. I imagined that babies came out pink, but grey would be more like it. But little Cassie gave out a squawk, and as Maru washed her off, the pink became brighter and brighter. She handed Cassie to Haley, who mustered up the strength to hold her. Ten fingers and toes, all parts attached and looking fine at seven and a half pounds. Haley was safe. The baby was safe. How do you spell relief? After a few minutes, the hustle and bustle quieted down, and Harvey said, "There's no need for you to hang around here. Haley and the baby will be sleeping soon, and we'll keep her here for at least one day, maybe two, to check on both of them, and to allow Haley to get some rest." So, I kissed the sleepy-eyed Haley on the forehead and told her, "Great job, wonderful mother. Now you are a summer star too. I'll be back again tomorrow morning."
Heading home, my backpack felt like it was filled with 300 stones. I paused on the doorstep and turned around. Our poor farm. Of course, nearly everything was automated, but I still felt like Micky Mouse in the Sorcerer's Apprentice with my many out-of-control automated brooms collecting endless piles of eggs, milk, fruit, crops, and kegs, everywhere. I went inside and collapsed on the bed, clothes and all.
I slept all afternoon, evening, and through the night. On waking up the next morning, I knew that if I felt terrible, Haley felt worse. I got cleaned up, and realized that the only food that I had eaten in two days, were a few snacks from Haley's hospital package. I was starving. After a huge bowl of breakfast cereal and milk, I went out and surveyed the damage. The only thing to do was to pretend that it was just like a normal morning. The only drawback to this plan was that everything was taking three times longer than usual, and that I had to continually go back and forth to unload my overburdened backpack. The supply of grass was critically low for both the barnyard and the cow/pig yard, and I had to burn a ton of fiber and plant fresh grass. By then, it was pushing eight, and I had flower prep time to do. I grabbed ten sturdy vases, strong enough to hold sunflowers, and went out and started cutting. Sunflowers are huge, and even a bunch of five is a handful. I went for fifty. Now at nine, it was time to run down to the clinic. The place was quiet when I arrived. After peeking in on a sleeping Cassie, and a sleeping Haley, quiet as a mouse, I set the vases up in a long row along the window's ledge. Using my sprinkling can, I filled each about half full and started adding flowers. Each was backlit beautifully by light streaming through the window. I then sat and waited in the lobby. After an hour and a half of tapping my foot, and watching the hands on the clock tick, Maru came out and said that both were now awake and that I could visit. It was Cassie's post breakfast, pre-lunch feeding time, and she was looking pretty energetic. Haley, in contrast, looked wan and worn out, and everybody was happy to hear that Doc Harvey decided to keep her here for another day. After Maru gathered up Cassie, Haley quietly thanked me for the flowers, closed her eyes, and was asleep in seconds.
Now in early summer, as Haley's due date approached, we made sure that Doc Harvey and Maru were not planning on being absent for the next week or so. Around noon on the eleventh, Haley was standing in the kitchen when her water broke. While she changed underwear, I cleaned up and retrieved our prepared little kit of supplies to take to the clinic. We then began the slow walk to the clinic. I felt like a cheerful little tugboat escorting a giant ocean liner into the harbor. Once inside, Haley switched into a loose-fitting hospital gown, and sat on the bed while first Doc Harvey and then Maru examined her. When you are having a baby, all modesty is thrown out the window. Both concluded that Haley still had quite a way to go. Haley had read a lot about natural childbirth, had seriously considered the possibility, and had practiced some breathing techniques. She was connected to a chart recorder that measured each contraction and I could see the needle moving before Haley could feel one coming on. It took exactly one serious mountain sized contraction for Haley to forget all about natural childbirth, and to request the epidural. Fortunately, Doc Harvey got everything right for placing the injection, and after taking a few more major hits, Haley was woozy but no longer gritting her teeth and freaking out. The hands on the clock moved ever so slowly, and after midnight, Maru was the only one giving Haley an hourly check, as Harvey had gone to bed. Very little had changed. My role was simply to hold Haley's hand, feeling her squeeze as a contraction passed through her, to give her little sips of ice water, and to apply lip balm as requested. All I could do was to helplessly watch closeup, every wince of pain, definitely mental torture. Around the lit room, fans whirred, instrument lights blinked, and the clock ticked. By eight the next morning, Harvey was back, but there was nothing to report on Haley. By now, the poor girl had been up for twenty-four hours, and was starting to get worried. At first, it had been all excitement and adrenaline, but now both those feelings and the accompanying energy were long gone. I don't think that I had ever stayed up all night before, but surprisingly, I was wide awake. Sure, I was calmer than Haley, but had I been in her shoes, I would be worried too. At noon, there was a little conference between the four of us. Apparently, progress was measured in terms of "dilation" and while Haley was progressing, it was incremental at best. Her slender little girl hips were not well suited as an exit path for a baby, and as a first-time mother, slow progress was normal. An hour later, the chart recording contractions gradually picked up speed and intensity, and our little team knew that the end was near. Around two-thirty, Doc Harvey told Haley to start pushing. Of course, Haley was exhausted, and the epidural didn't help matters, but she was young and strong and pushed. I watched, as first the top of a little head became visible, and then rather quickly, a whole head came out, followed by a tiny tadpole-like body, a cord, and reddish placenta. Not for the faint hearted. I imagined that babies came out pink, but grey would be more like it. But little Cassie gave out a squawk, and as Maru washed her off, the pink became brighter and brighter. She handed Cassie to Haley, who mustered up the strength to hold her. Ten fingers and toes, all parts attached and looking fine at seven and a half pounds. Haley was safe. The baby was safe. How do you spell relief? After a few minutes, the hustle and bustle quieted down, and Harvey said, "There's no need for you to hang around here. Haley and the baby will be sleeping soon, and we'll keep her here for at least one day, maybe two, to check on both of them, and to allow Haley to get some rest." So, I kissed the sleepy-eyed Haley on the forehead and told her, "Great job, wonderful mother. Now you are a summer star too. I'll be back again tomorrow morning."
Heading home, my backpack felt like it was filled with 300 stones. I paused on the doorstep and turned around. Our poor farm. Of course, nearly everything was automated, but I still felt like Micky Mouse in the Sorcerer's Apprentice with my many out-of-control automated brooms collecting endless piles of eggs, milk, fruit, crops, and kegs, everywhere. I went inside and collapsed on the bed, clothes and all.
I slept all afternoon, evening, and through the night. On waking up the next morning, I knew that if I felt terrible, Haley felt worse. I got cleaned up, and realized that the only food that I had eaten in two days, were a few snacks from Haley's hospital package. I was starving. After a huge bowl of breakfast cereal and milk, I went out and surveyed the damage. The only thing to do was to pretend that it was just like a normal morning. The only drawback to this plan was that everything was taking three times longer than usual, and that I had to continually go back and forth to unload my overburdened backpack. The supply of grass was critically low for both the barnyard and the cow/pig yard, and I had to burn a ton of fiber and plant fresh grass. By then, it was pushing eight, and I had flower prep time to do. I grabbed ten sturdy vases, strong enough to hold sunflowers, and went out and started cutting. Sunflowers are huge, and even a bunch of five is a handful. I went for fifty. Now at nine, it was time to run down to the clinic. The place was quiet when I arrived. After peeking in on a sleeping Cassie, and a sleeping Haley, quiet as a mouse, I set the vases up in a long row along the window's ledge. Using my sprinkling can, I filled each about half full and started adding flowers. Each was backlit beautifully by light streaming through the window. I then sat and waited in the lobby. After an hour and a half of tapping my foot, and watching the hands on the clock tick, Maru came out and said that both were now awake and that I could visit. It was Cassie's post breakfast, pre-lunch feeding time, and she was looking pretty energetic. Haley, in contrast, looked wan and worn out, and everybody was happy to hear that Doc Harvey decided to keep her here for another day. After Maru gathered up Cassie, Haley quietly thanked me for the flowers, closed her eyes, and was asleep in seconds.
WhiteEagle12
Farmer
WhiteEagle12
Farmer
I have now read up to Middlewalk #10. I'm really enjoying it! Thanks for posting such a great story here Dr. eeL!
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-60
The next morning, it was time for Haley and Cassie to come home. Before they woke up, I had finished off all the paperwork and paid the bill, but now, how to get them home? Walking for Haley was inching one foot six inches in front and then slowly inching the other foot even up to the first. At that rate, we wouldn't be home before winter. Pre-pregnancy, she used to jump on my back and I'd run around the house giving her a wild pony ride. But then she was hanging on, and there's no way that I can carry her home. I should have known about the easy answer, as Doc Harvey came into Haley's room with a wheelchair. We loaded the two of them up, and I easily got them to our doorstep. After putting Cassie in her crib, I picked up Haley, climbed the steps of our porch, climbed the steps to our bedroom and deposited the sleepy Haley in bed.
Somehow, I imagined that getting the two of them home would be step one in life returning to the happy days. I could not have been more wrong. The horrid black cloud hovering over our little farm house only got darker, with lightning flashes. It was equal opportunity time for everything and anything that could go wrong, to go wrong. Haley was having trouble breast-feeding. Since Cassie didn't get her stomach full, she woke up every two hours for another attempt. This meant that no-one in the house was sleeping for longer than two hours, a schedule that was murder on me, and equally rough on Haley. Physically, poor Haley's bottom was a traumatic mess. Just before Cassie had popped out, Doc Harvey had sliced a cut on Haley's bottom, so that all that stretching wouldn't roughly tear. He had sewed her back up, but after her epidural wore off, it was still cut human tissue, and quite painful, looking purple and green. Haley couldn't keep any pain medication down. Tem minutes after taking a pill, back up it came. All that pushing had given Haley hemorrhoid's, angry looking red protrusions that flip flopped between being itchy, painful, or both. Every couple of hours, I tenderly rubbed some prescription cream along their length. Haley's hip bones were shifting, doing their best to return to their normal places, but it was not a pleasant process. I had no idea what was going on inside Haley, but I'm sure that her internal plumbing was just as messed up as our farm outside. Luckily, she wasn't bleeding. Her pain seemed more intense in the middle of the night, and it ripped at my heart when I could hear her whimper as I left her side to go and pick up the hungry squawking baby. No, I did not feel physically hurt, but on the inside, I was bleeding gallons of blood watching her suffer just inches away from me. Through it all, there were no cross words exchanged between us. We were simply both sad and exhausted. On two hours of sleep, everything is exhausting. Getting Haley to the bathroom was a thirty-minute affair, with me doing most of the work. Once, I got her to stand in the shower, but all she would do was cry. She wasn't eating, but was putting out thousands of calories every day in the form of milk. On the fourth day, she wasn't getting better. If anything, she was getting worse. I felt her forehead, and she was on fire. I quickly rang up Doc Harvey and begged for a house call. He willingly came out, and was surprisingly calm (not me, I was in a state of near panic). He diagnosed a breast infection, and gave her some antibiotics. He said that it was not uncommon. I tried to explain how difficult the breast-feeding was going, and he said that first-time mothers always seemed to struggle, and to keep trying. The only winner during this time of troubles was Cassie, who was turning out to be a fairly quiet happy baby. I called up Emily, who came out with a huge set of baby clothes. She sat with Haley, patiently giving her fluids, and I collapsed asleep in the guest bedroom. Later, the three of us discussed the feeding issue, and we decided to compromise with a half-formula, half-breast milk plan. I'm glad that we did, for either Cassie's tummy was getting bigger, or she was getting fuller, because she then shifted to a three-hour feeding schedule. And that one hour made a world of difference. Gradually, the stitches fell out, the hemorrhoids retracted, and we had going to the bathroom down to a fifteen-minute challenge. Often, during feeding time, we formed a little impromptu circle with Cassie working hard on getting fed, me holding onto Haley's hand, and a tiny hand grasping my finger. As I picked up Cassie to carry her back to her crib, looking from Cassie's huge blue eyes to Haley's was in a strange way like looking in a mirror.
One morning, almost two weeks to the day that Cassie had been born, I came back into the house after a quick dash outside to feed some hungry neglected animals. It was then that I saw Haley in the kitchen. A weak and wobbly ghost of a Haley, but she was up! I guided her to a chair, and quickly rustled up a blueberry pancake slathered with butter and a little syrup. She was eating solid food! I added some fresh squeezed orange juice and sat across from her. She looked up at me and in the exact same way that baby Cassie was learning how to generate a smile, she offered a similar attempt at a smile. Instantly, at that moment, I could see the shadow Haley departing (good riddance) and that the real Haley was starting on the road to recovery. For Cassie, one could not see any changes from day to day, but from week to week, changes were obvious. It was the same with Haley on her road to recovery. The most striking change was in our relationship. When we were married, to be sure, Haley loved her cute husband. But her love for me was like a candle to my bonfire of love for Haley. Now, a year and a half later, the love connection has reversed itself. Somehow, during our ordeal, I had passed the, "for better or worse" test, and now it was Haley who stared at me with her eyes filled with love. It was irrelevant to me. I simply wanted the real Haley to come alive again and to be herself in a family of three.
The next morning, it was time for Haley and Cassie to come home. Before they woke up, I had finished off all the paperwork and paid the bill, but now, how to get them home? Walking for Haley was inching one foot six inches in front and then slowly inching the other foot even up to the first. At that rate, we wouldn't be home before winter. Pre-pregnancy, she used to jump on my back and I'd run around the house giving her a wild pony ride. But then she was hanging on, and there's no way that I can carry her home. I should have known about the easy answer, as Doc Harvey came into Haley's room with a wheelchair. We loaded the two of them up, and I easily got them to our doorstep. After putting Cassie in her crib, I picked up Haley, climbed the steps of our porch, climbed the steps to our bedroom and deposited the sleepy Haley in bed.
Somehow, I imagined that getting the two of them home would be step one in life returning to the happy days. I could not have been more wrong. The horrid black cloud hovering over our little farm house only got darker, with lightning flashes. It was equal opportunity time for everything and anything that could go wrong, to go wrong. Haley was having trouble breast-feeding. Since Cassie didn't get her stomach full, she woke up every two hours for another attempt. This meant that no-one in the house was sleeping for longer than two hours, a schedule that was murder on me, and equally rough on Haley. Physically, poor Haley's bottom was a traumatic mess. Just before Cassie had popped out, Doc Harvey had sliced a cut on Haley's bottom, so that all that stretching wouldn't roughly tear. He had sewed her back up, but after her epidural wore off, it was still cut human tissue, and quite painful, looking purple and green. Haley couldn't keep any pain medication down. Tem minutes after taking a pill, back up it came. All that pushing had given Haley hemorrhoid's, angry looking red protrusions that flip flopped between being itchy, painful, or both. Every couple of hours, I tenderly rubbed some prescription cream along their length. Haley's hip bones were shifting, doing their best to return to their normal places, but it was not a pleasant process. I had no idea what was going on inside Haley, but I'm sure that her internal plumbing was just as messed up as our farm outside. Luckily, she wasn't bleeding. Her pain seemed more intense in the middle of the night, and it ripped at my heart when I could hear her whimper as I left her side to go and pick up the hungry squawking baby. No, I did not feel physically hurt, but on the inside, I was bleeding gallons of blood watching her suffer just inches away from me. Through it all, there were no cross words exchanged between us. We were simply both sad and exhausted. On two hours of sleep, everything is exhausting. Getting Haley to the bathroom was a thirty-minute affair, with me doing most of the work. Once, I got her to stand in the shower, but all she would do was cry. She wasn't eating, but was putting out thousands of calories every day in the form of milk. On the fourth day, she wasn't getting better. If anything, she was getting worse. I felt her forehead, and she was on fire. I quickly rang up Doc Harvey and begged for a house call. He willingly came out, and was surprisingly calm (not me, I was in a state of near panic). He diagnosed a breast infection, and gave her some antibiotics. He said that it was not uncommon. I tried to explain how difficult the breast-feeding was going, and he said that first-time mothers always seemed to struggle, and to keep trying. The only winner during this time of troubles was Cassie, who was turning out to be a fairly quiet happy baby. I called up Emily, who came out with a huge set of baby clothes. She sat with Haley, patiently giving her fluids, and I collapsed asleep in the guest bedroom. Later, the three of us discussed the feeding issue, and we decided to compromise with a half-formula, half-breast milk plan. I'm glad that we did, for either Cassie's tummy was getting bigger, or she was getting fuller, because she then shifted to a three-hour feeding schedule. And that one hour made a world of difference. Gradually, the stitches fell out, the hemorrhoids retracted, and we had going to the bathroom down to a fifteen-minute challenge. Often, during feeding time, we formed a little impromptu circle with Cassie working hard on getting fed, me holding onto Haley's hand, and a tiny hand grasping my finger. As I picked up Cassie to carry her back to her crib, looking from Cassie's huge blue eyes to Haley's was in a strange way like looking in a mirror.
One morning, almost two weeks to the day that Cassie had been born, I came back into the house after a quick dash outside to feed some hungry neglected animals. It was then that I saw Haley in the kitchen. A weak and wobbly ghost of a Haley, but she was up! I guided her to a chair, and quickly rustled up a blueberry pancake slathered with butter and a little syrup. She was eating solid food! I added some fresh squeezed orange juice and sat across from her. She looked up at me and in the exact same way that baby Cassie was learning how to generate a smile, she offered a similar attempt at a smile. Instantly, at that moment, I could see the shadow Haley departing (good riddance) and that the real Haley was starting on the road to recovery. For Cassie, one could not see any changes from day to day, but from week to week, changes were obvious. It was the same with Haley on her road to recovery. The most striking change was in our relationship. When we were married, to be sure, Haley loved her cute husband. But her love for me was like a candle to my bonfire of love for Haley. Now, a year and a half later, the love connection has reversed itself. Somehow, during our ordeal, I had passed the, "for better or worse" test, and now it was Haley who stared at me with her eyes filled with love. It was irrelevant to me. I simply wanted the real Haley to come alive again and to be herself in a family of three.
WhiteEagle12
Farmer
I'm up to #20 now. (still enjoying the story quite a lot)
Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-61
Physically, Haley was becoming the incredibly shrinking human. She was hardly eating, and just listlessly looked at the food I fixed for her. Not only was all her baby weight gain completely gone, but now the clothes that she wore pre-pregnancy just hung on her. Our scarecrows outside looked healthier. I tried to tease her that she was rapidly looking like some of those underweight so-called famous models, but I quickly learned that you simply cannot tease a depressed mother. It was more than depression. There was some kind of anxiety in her too. Anxious depression. If you had to give a diagnosis, that would be it. It's like she believed that she was responsible for Cassie's breathing, that if she didn't pay attention, that suddenly something terrible would happen or would go wrong. Even the Greek hero Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders had it easy compared to Haley. I certainly did not know what to do. I loaded the family up and went down to the clinic, where Doc Harvey took a blood sample, looked at her tongue, poked and prodded her, and said that other than being a little underweight, she was healthy. I read everything I could find on the internet on post-partum depression. I tried changing her diet. Maybe her intestinal microflora was off. I ordered and had delivered various healing herbs. Pre-pregnancy, our lives were filled with a constant chatter from Haley, maybe annoying for some husbands, but music to my ears. Now, great gaps of silence ruled the days. More and more, I was no longer a farmer, but instead was the caretaker for two. One was a happy eating and pooping machine. The other was a mystery. I asked her to explain what she felt, and she said that it was like walking in the woods, knowing that hidden behind one of the trees up ahead a tiger was there, out to get her. With every step, she could feel her body getting worked up, a clash of adrenaline and depression that left her unable to function. Her pride and joy camera gathered dust. Even putting on her makeup and fixing her hair became too much of a burden to Haley, something that I would never have believed possible.
She really did not want me to leave her. If I was gone for just a few minutes, her symptoms would rapidly intensify. The physical pain of a couple of weeks ago was now replaced by an even worse invisible mental pain. I hated every second of seeing her suffer. What can I do? I filled the days by laying down on the bed next to her and reading out loud stories from her favorite books. I will admit that I'm kind of a dramatic reader, with plenty of inflection in my voice to capture the traits of the different characters and to set the mood. Something about either me, my reading, or the story seemed to pull Haley's attention away from her hyper nervousness, and I could feel moments when the anxiety symptoms would ease off. I could hear it in her breathing. When I wasn't reading, I talked. I talked, talked, and talked. I've always been a far better listener than a talker, so you can have some idea of how desperate I was to try and make it from day to day. Wherever she was, walking through the woods, at least she could hear my voice and know that she was not alone. Anxiety filled Haley with a constant barrage of repetitive thoughts, none of which were true, and all of which were self-defeating. How can you convince someone who is seeing ghosts that ghosts do not exist? We lived completely in the present tense. Tomorrow was not just a day away, tomorrow didn't exist.
I kept a clipboard nearby to write down when Haley felt horrible, and when she felt a little less horrible. Mornings were the worst, followed by another peak in the afternoon, with a gradual easing around dark. Such a pattern suggested to me that hormones were in some way responsible. I honestly don't know, but perhaps they were, because after three months of torture, a change occurred. Without my doing anything special or different, Haley began to feel better in the evenings. It's not like she was laughing again, but the depressive anxious symptoms lifted at night. In another two weeks, the window of normalcy was opening wider, and now she was symptom free from after three in the afternoon, for the rest of the evening. Every hour gained was a cause for celebration and a major victory. Haley was alive again when little Cassie started lifting her head and figured out how to roll over. Haley also now understood that Cassie was a powerful independent little being in her own right and didn't need her mother (or father) to watch for every breath. Faster and faster, Haley pulled away from whatever had captured her, and started talking and eating. The sparkle wasn't quite there yet. In fact, in some strange ways her maternal behavior reminded me more of Emily than that of Haley, but I'll take it.
Importantly, we began walking again. Nearly every evening, I push the baby carriage along the paths and walkways of the valley, while Haley rediscovered that this is her favorite part of the day. Cassie definitely loves a rocking motion. In our front room we have a wind-up swing, and during those bad days when Cassie was awake and Haley needed my attention, I would wind it up and have Cassie rock. The carriage gave a similar motion. Now and then, we stop to talk with villagers who are usually heading home, and all seem to want to peek in on the baby. Cassie is growing hair, dreamy blonde in color, and there is not the slightest doubt in the world over who is her mother. It makes me feel wonderful, to watch and listen as Haley talks again to the people of the village. She is looking so much healthier, with a glow that promises even more gains in the future. Now that we're both 'parents', some of our child-like spontaneity seems to have taken a hit. We no longer can just run off and go to the spa for a midnight swim. Inside, I still want to go, and I hope that when Cassie gets big enough, that all three of us can be kids together. Hurry up Haley and Cassie, I'm ready.
Physically, Haley was becoming the incredibly shrinking human. She was hardly eating, and just listlessly looked at the food I fixed for her. Not only was all her baby weight gain completely gone, but now the clothes that she wore pre-pregnancy just hung on her. Our scarecrows outside looked healthier. I tried to tease her that she was rapidly looking like some of those underweight so-called famous models, but I quickly learned that you simply cannot tease a depressed mother. It was more than depression. There was some kind of anxiety in her too. Anxious depression. If you had to give a diagnosis, that would be it. It's like she believed that she was responsible for Cassie's breathing, that if she didn't pay attention, that suddenly something terrible would happen or would go wrong. Even the Greek hero Atlas carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders had it easy compared to Haley. I certainly did not know what to do. I loaded the family up and went down to the clinic, where Doc Harvey took a blood sample, looked at her tongue, poked and prodded her, and said that other than being a little underweight, she was healthy. I read everything I could find on the internet on post-partum depression. I tried changing her diet. Maybe her intestinal microflora was off. I ordered and had delivered various healing herbs. Pre-pregnancy, our lives were filled with a constant chatter from Haley, maybe annoying for some husbands, but music to my ears. Now, great gaps of silence ruled the days. More and more, I was no longer a farmer, but instead was the caretaker for two. One was a happy eating and pooping machine. The other was a mystery. I asked her to explain what she felt, and she said that it was like walking in the woods, knowing that hidden behind one of the trees up ahead a tiger was there, out to get her. With every step, she could feel her body getting worked up, a clash of adrenaline and depression that left her unable to function. Her pride and joy camera gathered dust. Even putting on her makeup and fixing her hair became too much of a burden to Haley, something that I would never have believed possible.
She really did not want me to leave her. If I was gone for just a few minutes, her symptoms would rapidly intensify. The physical pain of a couple of weeks ago was now replaced by an even worse invisible mental pain. I hated every second of seeing her suffer. What can I do? I filled the days by laying down on the bed next to her and reading out loud stories from her favorite books. I will admit that I'm kind of a dramatic reader, with plenty of inflection in my voice to capture the traits of the different characters and to set the mood. Something about either me, my reading, or the story seemed to pull Haley's attention away from her hyper nervousness, and I could feel moments when the anxiety symptoms would ease off. I could hear it in her breathing. When I wasn't reading, I talked. I talked, talked, and talked. I've always been a far better listener than a talker, so you can have some idea of how desperate I was to try and make it from day to day. Wherever she was, walking through the woods, at least she could hear my voice and know that she was not alone. Anxiety filled Haley with a constant barrage of repetitive thoughts, none of which were true, and all of which were self-defeating. How can you convince someone who is seeing ghosts that ghosts do not exist? We lived completely in the present tense. Tomorrow was not just a day away, tomorrow didn't exist.
I kept a clipboard nearby to write down when Haley felt horrible, and when she felt a little less horrible. Mornings were the worst, followed by another peak in the afternoon, with a gradual easing around dark. Such a pattern suggested to me that hormones were in some way responsible. I honestly don't know, but perhaps they were, because after three months of torture, a change occurred. Without my doing anything special or different, Haley began to feel better in the evenings. It's not like she was laughing again, but the depressive anxious symptoms lifted at night. In another two weeks, the window of normalcy was opening wider, and now she was symptom free from after three in the afternoon, for the rest of the evening. Every hour gained was a cause for celebration and a major victory. Haley was alive again when little Cassie started lifting her head and figured out how to roll over. Haley also now understood that Cassie was a powerful independent little being in her own right and didn't need her mother (or father) to watch for every breath. Faster and faster, Haley pulled away from whatever had captured her, and started talking and eating. The sparkle wasn't quite there yet. In fact, in some strange ways her maternal behavior reminded me more of Emily than that of Haley, but I'll take it.
Importantly, we began walking again. Nearly every evening, I push the baby carriage along the paths and walkways of the valley, while Haley rediscovered that this is her favorite part of the day. Cassie definitely loves a rocking motion. In our front room we have a wind-up swing, and during those bad days when Cassie was awake and Haley needed my attention, I would wind it up and have Cassie rock. The carriage gave a similar motion. Now and then, we stop to talk with villagers who are usually heading home, and all seem to want to peek in on the baby. Cassie is growing hair, dreamy blonde in color, and there is not the slightest doubt in the world over who is her mother. It makes me feel wonderful, to watch and listen as Haley talks again to the people of the village. She is looking so much healthier, with a glow that promises even more gains in the future. Now that we're both 'parents', some of our child-like spontaneity seems to have taken a hit. We no longer can just run off and go to the spa for a midnight swim. Inside, I still want to go, and I hope that when Cassie gets big enough, that all three of us can be kids together. Hurry up Haley and Cassie, I'm ready.
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Dr. eeL
Farmer
MIDDLEWALK-62
One day at a time, it has been an entire week now, since Lynnsie the woodpecker flew off on her own and headed West. Having raised twin boys last year, it was quite an adjustment for Woody and Wilma to fledge a bright and vivacious lady this season. All that feeding, training, and teaching, had consumed their lives throughout spring and summer, and now both felt the impact of empty nest syndrome. Under the circumstances, the best antidote is to keep busy, and fortunately for Woody, this was the time of the year when he did his annual survey of Stardew Valley. After a quick breakfast for two, he reminded Wilma not to expect him for the rest of the day.
He flew for the Northern Forest, in the general direction of the human's oversized wooden nest. Here, the old-growth forest was at its best, with tall ancient trees talking among themselves, surrounded by rustling smaller versions of youth and childhood. The fall colors were amazing, starting with plenty of green from the pines. The yellows of the maples were fading, but the oranges and reds were on full prominent display. Woody knew that in a week or two the brown would show up just before all the leaves would be knocked off by the falling winter snow. This part of the forest ended abruptly, as the human farmer religiously patrolled the perimeter and collected all the fallen seeds. Woody coasted over a field bright with fat pumpkins, and a structure made of glass, through which he could see little red dots of strawberries. Veering to the right, he passed over a small stand of woods bordered on one side by a smoother rather long flat straight strip of black. Here, the trees were skimpier, no new seeds littered the ground, and to Woody's eyes, these were the last survivors of what was once a true forest. The land gradually rose up, and Woody flapped a couple of times to gain altitude. Now he was out of his normal patrolling territory, but he was well aware of the smoking noisy dark monster that occasionally would howl as it snaked its way from hole to hole in the mountains. It had probably eaten all the trees, as only a few tiny patches were left behind. Few humans ventured here, so they likely were afraid of the monster too. Far more to his liking was the nearby mountain lake, and on the other side of a dry riverbed, a fresh forest. Although not as majestic as his old-growth forest, babies were visible, sprouting up amidst the numerous rocks. Woody stopped here for lunch and was able to hammer out a few grubs from the older oaks.
After his rest, Woody headed South, following the lazy river towards the sea. Sadly, all the trees were gone, with only a few stumps left behind to remind him of what once was a happier time. The humans were voracious nest builders and had left no surviving trees. Just before the river reached the sea, he turned, and now followed the river to the West. Out in the ocean, a small flock of pelicans paralleled his movement, followed by some noisy circling gulls. Listening in on their conversations, Woody was startled by a different voice, that of a parrot squawking alone. The sound came from a nearby human nest, and Woody dropped down and lightly landed on the sill of an open window. Peering inside, he could see a red-crested green parrot standing on a small perch, singing (if the sound parrots make can actually be called singing) away. It took a while for Woody to comprehend what was being said, because parrots speak with such a peculiar and thick accent, but he could just make out the words, "Awk! Sing for your supper and you'll get breakfast, songbirds never starve." Not one to be shy, Woody said, "Hi there. Are you lost?" The parrot looked a bit startled (probably not used to having any visitors) and replied, "No, I live here." Woody observed that, "I'm just so surprised because I've never met a bird living in a human nest before." "A long time ago, I ran into a window, broke my wing, and a blue-crested human picked me up and took care of me. Awk. Now, although my wing is better, I still cannot fly, but the human cares and talks to me." Woody noted that, "You're so lucky. Birds in similar situations have had bad experiences with humans." The parrot responded with, "Not me. I'm so full of treats, awk, that I couldn't fly even with two healthy wings in a hurricane." The bird fluffed his feathers a bit to give his statement an exclamation mark. "I'm trying to teach her how to speak parrot, but it isn't easy. She tries so hard, but just doesn't seem to get it," continued the parrot. "Where were you born?" continued Woody. The parrot answered, "I was born on an island where parrots are everywhere. After visiting the valley, I was flying home with my parents when I broke my wing. Awk. You look like a strong flyer. If you would like to do me a favor, perhaps you could fly to the island and let my parents know that I'm okay." Woody considered the possibility, "I have never been to or seen your island. It must be quite far off. I'm probably not in good enough shape to be a long-distance flyer. But I'll tell you what. If I ever see another parrot, I will spread your story." "Well, if you ever change your mind, the sea gulls also know the way. Fly high and look for clouds off to the South."
Springing lightly off the sill, Woody soared higher and higher over the roof tops, until he could see the entire expanse of Stardew Valley. Woody seldom flew higher than the tree-tops, and looking down, it seemed as if he was looking at a tiny three-dimensional map. Looking South over the ocean, all he could see was where the dark blue below melted into the lighter blue above. "Even if I bulked up with 100-yard sprints for a month, I'd never be able to fly that far," thought Woody. He turned and executed a perfect envelope curve glide down to his tree nest and a waiting Wilma.
One day at a time, it has been an entire week now, since Lynnsie the woodpecker flew off on her own and headed West. Having raised twin boys last year, it was quite an adjustment for Woody and Wilma to fledge a bright and vivacious lady this season. All that feeding, training, and teaching, had consumed their lives throughout spring and summer, and now both felt the impact of empty nest syndrome. Under the circumstances, the best antidote is to keep busy, and fortunately for Woody, this was the time of the year when he did his annual survey of Stardew Valley. After a quick breakfast for two, he reminded Wilma not to expect him for the rest of the day.
He flew for the Northern Forest, in the general direction of the human's oversized wooden nest. Here, the old-growth forest was at its best, with tall ancient trees talking among themselves, surrounded by rustling smaller versions of youth and childhood. The fall colors were amazing, starting with plenty of green from the pines. The yellows of the maples were fading, but the oranges and reds were on full prominent display. Woody knew that in a week or two the brown would show up just before all the leaves would be knocked off by the falling winter snow. This part of the forest ended abruptly, as the human farmer religiously patrolled the perimeter and collected all the fallen seeds. Woody coasted over a field bright with fat pumpkins, and a structure made of glass, through which he could see little red dots of strawberries. Veering to the right, he passed over a small stand of woods bordered on one side by a smoother rather long flat straight strip of black. Here, the trees were skimpier, no new seeds littered the ground, and to Woody's eyes, these were the last survivors of what was once a true forest. The land gradually rose up, and Woody flapped a couple of times to gain altitude. Now he was out of his normal patrolling territory, but he was well aware of the smoking noisy dark monster that occasionally would howl as it snaked its way from hole to hole in the mountains. It had probably eaten all the trees, as only a few tiny patches were left behind. Few humans ventured here, so they likely were afraid of the monster too. Far more to his liking was the nearby mountain lake, and on the other side of a dry riverbed, a fresh forest. Although not as majestic as his old-growth forest, babies were visible, sprouting up amidst the numerous rocks. Woody stopped here for lunch and was able to hammer out a few grubs from the older oaks.
After his rest, Woody headed South, following the lazy river towards the sea. Sadly, all the trees were gone, with only a few stumps left behind to remind him of what once was a happier time. The humans were voracious nest builders and had left no surviving trees. Just before the river reached the sea, he turned, and now followed the river to the West. Out in the ocean, a small flock of pelicans paralleled his movement, followed by some noisy circling gulls. Listening in on their conversations, Woody was startled by a different voice, that of a parrot squawking alone. The sound came from a nearby human nest, and Woody dropped down and lightly landed on the sill of an open window. Peering inside, he could see a red-crested green parrot standing on a small perch, singing (if the sound parrots make can actually be called singing) away. It took a while for Woody to comprehend what was being said, because parrots speak with such a peculiar and thick accent, but he could just make out the words, "Awk! Sing for your supper and you'll get breakfast, songbirds never starve." Not one to be shy, Woody said, "Hi there. Are you lost?" The parrot looked a bit startled (probably not used to having any visitors) and replied, "No, I live here." Woody observed that, "I'm just so surprised because I've never met a bird living in a human nest before." "A long time ago, I ran into a window, broke my wing, and a blue-crested human picked me up and took care of me. Awk. Now, although my wing is better, I still cannot fly, but the human cares and talks to me." Woody noted that, "You're so lucky. Birds in similar situations have had bad experiences with humans." The parrot responded with, "Not me. I'm so full of treats, awk, that I couldn't fly even with two healthy wings in a hurricane." The bird fluffed his feathers a bit to give his statement an exclamation mark. "I'm trying to teach her how to speak parrot, but it isn't easy. She tries so hard, but just doesn't seem to get it," continued the parrot. "Where were you born?" continued Woody. The parrot answered, "I was born on an island where parrots are everywhere. After visiting the valley, I was flying home with my parents when I broke my wing. Awk. You look like a strong flyer. If you would like to do me a favor, perhaps you could fly to the island and let my parents know that I'm okay." Woody considered the possibility, "I have never been to or seen your island. It must be quite far off. I'm probably not in good enough shape to be a long-distance flyer. But I'll tell you what. If I ever see another parrot, I will spread your story." "Well, if you ever change your mind, the sea gulls also know the way. Fly high and look for clouds off to the South."
Springing lightly off the sill, Woody soared higher and higher over the roof tops, until he could see the entire expanse of Stardew Valley. Woody seldom flew higher than the tree-tops, and looking down, it seemed as if he was looking at a tiny three-dimensional map. Looking South over the ocean, all he could see was where the dark blue below melted into the lighter blue above. "Even if I bulked up with 100-yard sprints for a month, I'd never be able to fly that far," thought Woody. He turned and executed a perfect envelope curve glide down to his tree nest and a waiting Wilma.