by Shelley Dunlop
I woke up to a splendid sunrise just beginning to peek through my window, gently beckoning me to up and face the day. I drew the blind, greeted the morning before me, washed up and went downstairs to find Marilla in the kitchen, boiling tea.
I know Marilla sleeps, but I rarely find evidence of it, for she is always up and about before I am. I made porridge for the two of us and we sat and ate together before I began gathering my things for another day of teaching. I brought in some apple blossoms from outside and placed them on the kitchen table. There was a time, not so long ago, when Marilla would have thought this frivolous and told me so, but she was quite pleased as I placed them in my favourite vase.
I gathered my lunch, my pile of students’ work and a delicious novel for lunch hour, and set out into what was becoming a positively resplendent morning. The sun smiled through the trees at me as I took my usual walk past the Haunted Wood that terrified Diana and I so, through Violet Vale and down the Birch Path, with the Lake of Shining Waters twinkling in the distance. I greeted my pupils and we made our way inside.
The school day was a fairly uneventful one. Paul Irving wrote me a charming piece about his rock people who live by the shore. Barbara Shaw out-spelled the rest of her class. Josie Pye was giggling away at something with Prillie Rogerson but her books were open and there was evidence of work on her slate; a small improvement is still an improvement. I did catch Anthony Pye with a collection of flies, but this is not out of the ordinary. I assigned him lines to write as usual and attempted to speak to him as a gentleman after school. I am determined that both Pyes will leave my tutelage better scholars, and better behaved, than when they began. I will press on and I WILL find how to get through to them.
I met Gilbert on the road, fresh from enlightening the youth of White Sands, and we walked for a while through our favourite old haunts. These little jaunts are becoming a pleasant habit, and I’m glad to have such a kindred spirit to discuss the trials and joys of teaching with. Gilbert is a dear friend. We plan to study some Tennyson when we next meet to study.
I arrived home to Green Gables to find Mrs Lynde to tea, talking Marilla’s head off about some important matter in Avonlea society. I wonder if I ever did truly talk that much. I decided to shell some peas rather than make myself a part of this exchange, but it makes me glad that Marilla has such company during the day. I think it makes Marilla glad too, though she would never say so.
Shelling peas, however, can only allow for so much imagination, and I found myself compelled to venture out again by the setting sun, all purple and filled with wonder. It was simply too beautiful to ignore and go on with vegetables. I basked in the glory of it as I made my way down Lovers Lane and past Orchard Slope, where I wouldn’t be surprised if dear, sweet Diana was being called on by her dear Fred. It won’t be long before she is my sweet Diana Barry no longer. I don’t find myself hating Fred nearly as much as I used to imagine I would. Her happiness is mine too. I picked some honeysuckle, wove it into my hair and headed home to help Marilla finish dinner. She made no comment - I suppose grown-up schoolteachers can wear all the flowers they like!
After a pleasant dinner with Marilla, I retired to mark today’s homework. I know very surely now that there is no more imagination in correcting geometry than there is in studying it. Tomorrow is fresh, however, and I’m certain must contain some story-writing.