The crock of gold

Once upon a time, a long time ago, or it could have been the day
before yesterday, a woman looked out from her front step and
wondered,"Shall I dig for it now?" She checked with the moon
and watched the weather and decided it was time.

The flowers
were almost
done and the
leaves had
turned yellow
and wilted

and with the
turn of the
fork, which
was easier
said than done,
the buried
treasure was
revealed.

She carefully teased the soil from the roots and left them in the
sun to cure. The next day she sat by the pipe in the yard with a
scrubbing brush and a bucket of water and washed and scrubbed
and washed and scrubbed and washed and scrubbed some more.

By lunchtime all her golden nuggets were clean and shining.

With an aching back and a painful posterior, ('is how you sit on
the bucket' her lovely husband told her later) she settled
down on the floor upstairs in the little house, with a sharp knife and
a silver bowl, and began to chip, (just like Miss UG had taught her)

and chip and chip and chip and chip and chip and chip and chip.

Finally, her work
was done. She
put everything to
dry in the sun
next to the
cocoa beans
on the
veranda.












Naturally, despite scrubbing and soaping

she was left with the Midas touch and went to bed to dream of
Rumpelstiltskin.
To be continued...................