• Home
  • Dolphinology Poetry
  • The Best of Times?
  • My Blog
  • The Curse of Lecia




  • Below is a snippet from The Tree with the House in It. Noah, a Kale gypsy was on the way with his family to his betrothal in Devon. His Grandmother,has a premonition , and on her request,the whole family re-route to Shropshire. The family stay in Pitchford, working for a local farmer. It is Noah's day off, and he goes for a walk with his dog, Cobweb. If you would like to hear the lullaby that Louisa hears click Here to listen


    CHAPTER TWO "NOAH" (last couple of pages)

    Sunday, 9th September 1832

    I was about to turn back to the camp, when something moved and caught my eye. In the clearing I could see that a gardener had brushed the fallen leaves into a large pile, perhaps to burn, or maybe just to make the gardens look tidier.



    Suddenly a force whirled at the leaves at full speed. They whisked into the air, up and up, falling carelessly to the floor. In the middle of the gust was a girl, or perhaps a young lady. With great abandon she leapt and ran at the leaves kicking them high and picking them up so that they showered her like rain. The girl laughed out loud, a laugh that was light, free and musical. Her laugh was as natural as the leaves and the sun streaming through the lime trees. Her skirts spun, billowing about. She moved with the grace and charm of a young horse, not yet ready to be tamed. The smell of freshly fallen leaves and rich soil filled the air.I sat down, hidden by the trees, spellbound. The girl was a free spirit, a sprite or, maybe a witch. Cobweb nuzzled my hand and watched with me. I remained quiet, not daring to breathe.



    The girl stood to look at what she had done, and shook her hair. It came loose and fell, long, smooth and burnished over her shoulders and down her back. In an instant, she threw her cape and bonnet to the ground. For a few seconds she disappeared, and then came back with a broom. I could hear her singing as she brushed the leaves back into a pile, adding more and more from around the clearing. I thought she had done a very good job of the brushing, and that she would make a very good wife for a Gaje man. Finally the work was done, and she stood for a while looking at the big pile of leaves. I thought that then she would surely leave. Then a wonderful thing happened. The girl ran to the end of the clearing, but then turned and ran back with the force of a charging bull, throwing herself on top of the mountain of leaves.




    The girl lay atop the pile laughing, her arms and legs swimming in the leaves. Her hair floated around her and mingled with the Autumn sun. The leaves and her hair were a mass of liquid amber, chestnut, magenta and maple. The gold overhead played between the trees casting shadows of claret copper and wine. I was captivated, and could not move. In the distance, I heard someone call. The girl lay for a moment, and then rose to her feet with a sigh. Once more she brushed the leaves, singing to herself, cheerfully. As she walked to the edge of the clearing, I felt a longing I had never felt before. I wanted to collect her in my arms, like she had collected the leaves. I wanted to sweep her up, and never let her go .I wanted to rein her in and tame her like a young horse, and keep her for my own. I sensed another movement and a big black and white dog bounced into the newly formed pile of leaves gleefully spreading them all over the clearing.


    I heard the girl call out, "Darcy?" and the dog bounded off after her.

    I sat smiling, not able to leave,
    Wishing
    Aching for her to return.
    My body sang with joy, my heart enchanted.
    My life had begun.
    I was in love.
    Cast in a spell on a golden Autumn day.
    I sighed, and felt tears stinging my eyes, and a pain weighing down my heart.
    This could not be so.
    For the girl was a lady, a Gaje.
    And I am Noah Harper.
    A gypsy.






    I hope you have enjoyed reading this selection from The Tree with the House In It. You can follow me on Twitter or Facebook below, and also follow the renovation of Pitchford Hall on Twitter here...






  • Home
  • Dolphinology Poetry
  • The Best of Times?
  • My Blog
  • The Curse of Lecia