What a week. Four funerals attended, done nothing but rain. But come Saturday week I don’t care if the sun does hide. For then strong-limbed young Bridget becomes my flame-headed Bride.
Oops, not Rams Island, not even Northern Ireland.
My take is set in Wicklow, just south of Dublin. Why? Cos I once knew a guy from there who lamented an entire summer school holiday (2 months, no less) of non-stop rain. He said that’s what Ireland’s so green.
Wrotten for What Pegman Saw
crispina kemp 
People who live in places that are known for the inclement weather, have to possess something that allows them to rise above. This made me think of that. I guess that has a bit to do with why I have chosen to go to Alaska. Whatever they’ve got. I want it.
Thank you, Crispina for taking me there this morning.
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My delight 🙂
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Although Great Britain isn’t exactly desert. I recall on my 3-week trip in 1993 that it rained at least once every day except the first three.
My mother took my father with her to visit her native Scotland in the mid-1980s. They were on the Isle of Skye, and the tourist guide pointed over to the mountains and began saying, “If it wasn’t overcast or raining, you could see . . . ” He turned around, only to realize that it was a clear day. In shock, he went on, “Hey, you know, you really CAN see . . .”
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Yea, I know what you mean. But note, when you visited me, Norfolk was dry. Elsewhere might be deeply lush and green from the perpetual mists and rain, but once away from the rivers and Broads, Norfolk is more often a slightly crisped brown., not helped by the exceedingly fast-draining sand over chalk subsoil
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I could sure use some green right now instead of this cold, damp, snow. 🙂
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I feel for you. I complain when we get crisped by a sharp wind. Call me a weather-wimp, you’d be right.
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I always say to fellow Canadians You’re know you’re a true Canadian because all you do is complain about the weather 🙂
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No-no, you inherited that from us Brits! It’s too hot, too cold, too wet, too windy, the mist is cod, when will it rain … defintely a British trait. 🙂
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I beleive you 🙂
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Great short take!!
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Micro … it’s become my specialty 🙂
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There’s passion beneath those words, a fine future amid the death and dreary weather. Wondering if he’s being particularly unlucky with death in his family- or a gravedigger! Great little tale
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I thank you, Lynn.
I have to admit, in chosing the name of his soon-to-be wife, I particularly wanted it to be the flame-headed Brdget, a female saint, in answer to it being St Patrick’s day. As to the funerals … well, they go well with the rain. 🙂
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I have a real love of flame haired heroines – many of my strong females end up red heads. And you’re right, very fitting she should be named after a female saint – now, whether she’s a saint in action as well as name … Love a funeral in the rain. Very tempted to write a story about a gravedigger now – they’re up there with blacksmiths for fascinating historical occupations.
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Yea, gravediggers, an essential occupation, even today when they use mechanical diggers, someone must operate them. And I can imagine, was with the smith, the gravedigger knew everything that passed in the village/town/parish.
My initial reason for the bride’s name is that Bridget is shortened to Bride; I liked that double meaning. And flame-headed because St Bride’s pagan predecessor was said to keep a sacred fire. Likewise, strong-limbed was a common epithet for Celtic women. So it all ties together. And the funerals cos, well, you can’t have rain without a funeral. Though most people would say it the other way round.
Thanks for reading, and liking. 🙂
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Love the sound of this. Such a beautiful cadence in your words!
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My thanks. I enjoy micro-fiction (I’ve discovered). 🙂
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