Old Paint

My cleaning urge continued into the next day. I still had not fully tackled the Spex wagon or the Supply wagons, but the slave wagons and Master's were spotless, arranged artfully, and smelling as fresh as the tantalizing breeze that wafted over the tips of budded grass. I had floated through most of my chores, simmered over the most minute of details with ease, caught myself staring off into the distance countless times. I neither had energy, nor was I tired. I simply was. Things were accomplished without effort, or at least my realization that I expended any.

I had not been by Asria's wagons in a few days, and it was certainly time to do so. I had heard that she had painted her wagon, and I could only imagine what might await me. Asria was one that seemed more concerned with the end result, than the splatter in the effort to get there. I always had fun trying to trace the breadcrumbs to figure out the path, and maybe find the prize at the end. I thought to take Red with me for extra hands, if I could find her. Taking care of three Master's wagons wasn't the easiest of tasks, and I grinned wondering if any of them had caught her.

I must have wandered past Asria's wagon at least twice before I realized I truly was in the right place. True to my thinking, the Mistress had painted things in her own unique way. Not only the canvas, the wheels, the wood of platform and railing, but the grass and surrounding earth were all part of the great picture. I almost didn't want to disturb it. The bright blue of sky, water, clouds, fish stood prickly and proud along shafts of grass. Oranges and reds, pinks and greens marched like the banners that had waved from the tops of wagons when we moved. Purples and yellows swam in a mossy stream that flowed constantly beneath the wagon bed. Scattered around the decorated bits and pieces were paint cans, brushes, cloths, bits of leather, squares of fuzzed wool, and a splattered bucket.

It seemed like such a shame to waste that carpet of painted tapestry. Once all the miscellaneous clutter had been cleaned up and put in place, I traced one of those open ended hearts I am fond of in a little bit of pink that clung to my fingertip on the underside of the railing. Then I carefully worked all that painted grass from the earth by the roots. I intended to make a grass weaving, with the painting already done. I was rather pleased with myself for the idea.