Now that she had to get her outfit ready for tomorrow she was thinking of footwear.
Her mind wandered back to distant childhood summers into the countryside when she could walk around barefoot.
The dirt road worn itself from yellow argyle clods and grooves into a flat, hard and even surface. A dust so thick and fine covered it, that if touched it felt like the finest powder - flour or cement. Only hot.
It was wonderful to walk on it. Her feet were covered in that silky powder to their ankles. She ran on it and nothing hurt the sole of her feet. No matter how fast she ran. A golden cloud followed her like an autumnal cape. She was the princess, the fairy of clods, dust and bare feet.
One late afternoon the city girl was sitting on the bench by the gate of Grandma’s house.
A bunch of children came from the fields behind a small herd of cows.
It was so hot that week .The dust on the road became even thicker and more velvety than ever.
The cows walked slowly, ruminating lazily. Their big, beautiful eyes were half closed and idly. One by one they were lifting their tails sideways, leaving behind their droppings. The dung was splattered in the dust with a muffled sound and got instantly coated by the fine powder of the road.
The children were playing a game they named “Who gets the biggest slippers”.
It went like this: they guided their feet from a guessed dust-covered dung to another, leaping on it like frogs on a pond from a water lily leaf to another. They did that until their feet became wrapped in thick “slippers” painted golden by dust. Who had the thickest slippers for the next five steps, won.
The winner did not have to round up the eventual stray cows until they passed the next 10 houses.
The city girl knew the children; they were play pals. She thought the game was great, so she joined in. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Later, Grandma disagreed, but that was another story.
The dung was mushy and warm. It smelled like mowed grass, only more pungent.
The city girl managed to build herself a pair of boots. She was declared a winner. She felt proud.
She helped her friends round up the cows in the stable and then the whole group went back to play on the road. Everyone was wearing a pair of dung slippers. Now they were paying “Catch me if you can”. Soon, the dust on the sleepers absorbed the moisture; the slippers cracked and then fell off. The children’s feet were covered now in thin but firm dust socks. If you scratched the sock off with a stick, the skin underneath was green and smelly.
That did not matter much to the city girl for that moment. Playing was far too much fun to leave room for any concerns of any kind.
Later that night it mattered though. She blamed the chooks for it. As soon as she entered the pen, they made a terrible noise. When Grandma rushed to the pen with a broom in her hand to chase away any eventual ferret, she found only her grand daughter there. The girl was trying to wash off the green on her feet in the chooks' water bowl.
Her mind wandered back to distant childhood summers into the countryside when she could walk around barefoot.
The dirt road worn itself from yellow argyle clods and grooves into a flat, hard and even surface. A dust so thick and fine covered it, that if touched it felt like the finest powder - flour or cement. Only hot.
It was wonderful to walk on it. Her feet were covered in that silky powder to their ankles. She ran on it and nothing hurt the sole of her feet. No matter how fast she ran. A golden cloud followed her like an autumnal cape. She was the princess, the fairy of clods, dust and bare feet.
One late afternoon the city girl was sitting on the bench by the gate of Grandma’s house.
A bunch of children came from the fields behind a small herd of cows.
It was so hot that week .The dust on the road became even thicker and more velvety than ever.
The cows walked slowly, ruminating lazily. Their big, beautiful eyes were half closed and idly. One by one they were lifting their tails sideways, leaving behind their droppings. The dung was splattered in the dust with a muffled sound and got instantly coated by the fine powder of the road.
The children were playing a game they named “Who gets the biggest slippers”.
It went like this: they guided their feet from a guessed dust-covered dung to another, leaping on it like frogs on a pond from a water lily leaf to another. They did that until their feet became wrapped in thick “slippers” painted golden by dust. Who had the thickest slippers for the next five steps, won.
The winner did not have to round up the eventual stray cows until they passed the next 10 houses.
The city girl knew the children; they were play pals. She thought the game was great, so she joined in. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Later, Grandma disagreed, but that was another story.
The dung was mushy and warm. It smelled like mowed grass, only more pungent.
The city girl managed to build herself a pair of boots. She was declared a winner. She felt proud.
She helped her friends round up the cows in the stable and then the whole group went back to play on the road. Everyone was wearing a pair of dung slippers. Now they were paying “Catch me if you can”. Soon, the dust on the sleepers absorbed the moisture; the slippers cracked and then fell off. The children’s feet were covered now in thin but firm dust socks. If you scratched the sock off with a stick, the skin underneath was green and smelly.
That did not matter much to the city girl for that moment. Playing was far too much fun to leave room for any concerns of any kind.
Later that night it mattered though. She blamed the chooks for it. As soon as she entered the pen, they made a terrible noise. When Grandma rushed to the pen with a broom in her hand to chase away any eventual ferret, she found only her grand daughter there. The girl was trying to wash off the green on her feet in the chooks' water bowl.
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