Once upon a time

Once upon a time, there was a land of greeny covered hills and rolling fields, blue strewn lakes and fields filled with baaing white clouds. In this land dwelled a people of beauty, honor, loyalty, and tongue twisting musical aptitude. In a small village, much like any other village there dwelt a little girl who went by the name of Angela. She was a little girl much like any other little girl you would expect to encounter in this land.

Unfortunately for her, the village Angela dwelt in lay approximately 5000 miles to the North of this land, in another land whose people were very much unlike her. It is no wonder she always felt a little out of place.

Still, Angela had her friends .. well, her friend : Another little girl who was much like her in many ways. Ways such as that they both had two arms with hands at the end; two feet with legs at the top; two eyes which often spied mischief to get into; and little tongues which were wagging far too often, but which were wreathed about with darling teeth and rosebud lips, and so did not spend as much time getting their mistress' in trouble as one might first suspect.

If the truth be known, the small village had many such inhabitants, not just two. But, these two have been singled out for this tale because of a peculiarity, a something not often possessed by adults, much less an item of humanity expected to be found on such small scaled beings. To wit, they had, as well as all the appendages and other fleshly accoutrement expected of such creatures, including a heart made of flesh, another heart made of love, and joy, and innocent mirth. It was their hearts which brought the two lasses together in friendship and, alas, it was their hearts which lead them into trouble.

Picture the day : Cold and crisp, frost covering over everything,the sound of crackling to be heard with each drawn breath. Yet, high in the sky, there is a beautiful bit of yellow which shines down, capriciously, upon the masses huddled together, for warmth, below. And as that yellowness shines down, strange things begin to happen over at the McLaughlin place. Here, on the window, what is that? It's some sort of a smudge, is it not ... a bit of blue daubed there? But, no .. look at it grow! Why, it's .. why .. And so the sun melts away the frost from the greenhouse windows. Much to the delight of two little girls who have been waiting patiently (sometimes) all winter for this event.

For it was in the autumn when Sara McLaughlin's mother, tired from cleaning up after all the help the girls had given her in the garden, had announced : "Now Sarah, now Elizabeth .. if all goes well with Mr. McLaughlin on the North Slope this winter, I will let you begin your own garden next spring.