- Today is the most glorious day of 2006.
It's been raining since about midnight. Rumbling thunder. Gusting winds.
Lightning in the distance.
-
- Three consecutive days of deluge have
changed everything here on the Mountain. Gwen the Beautiful's irises are
in bloom. So are the dogwoods. Even the grass that burned out in last summer's
drought is starting to return. The very atmosphere seems green.
-
- And the sound! The main house and the
Annex both have metal roofs, and I can't think of a single existing musical
group that can match the rhythm I hear and feel as I write.
-
- I can honestly say I feel more alive
than I have in many long months. I'm not the only one, either. Gwen's got
a spring in her step that'd been missing for awhile. The animals are filled
with energy.
-
- And the Annex has started talking.
-
- Yes, I know how strange that sounds.
But on a property the original owners fled from because they saw and heard
so many ghosts, it would be stranger still if things seemed normal.
-
- The Annex has been empty for a couple
of weeks, with Burl Jr., the new Cloud Creek caretaker, scheduled to move
in this weekend. Over that time, Gwen's been outfitting and decorating
to make the place perfect for its use as both an art studio and the home
of our new hand. So yesterday, I walked over there to make sure there were
no leaks to spoil things.
-
- Now I'll flat-out admit I've been uncomfortable
with this trailer since we first moved it up here. It's been nothing but
an inanimate hunk of metal, blocking my view of the forest.
-
- But yesterday, in the cold, pouring rain,
the place felt warmer than it ever had before.
-
- Especially when it said, "Good morning."
-
- I jumped about two feet into the air.
"You're alive?" I said.
-
- "Born last night," the Annex
said. "Daughter of the rain. And Gwen's love."
-
- "That's what it takes?"
-
- "I guess. I don't really know. I'm
just a kid."
-
- As we talked, I started to smell something.
Freshly made popcorn.
-
- I looked around the kitchen. The stove
and the oven were clean as a whistle. I sniffed at the windows, the heating
duct, even the portable air-conditioner. The popcorn smell wasn't coming
from any of those places.
-
- It was coming from everywhere.
-
- "What's going on?" I said to
the trailer.
-
- "Don't you like it?" the trailer
said. "How's this?"
-
- The popcorn smell vanished. In its place
was the aroma of fresh-baked cherry pie.
-
- "Better?" said the trailer.
-
- "I dunno," I said.
-
- "I want you to love me," said
the Annex. "I'll love you back. I promise."
-
- "Is that what this is about? You're
looking for something that'll make me love you?"
-
- "You and Gwen and everybody!"
the Annex said. "People love food, don't they? I don't know how I
know that, but I do."
-
- The smell of cherry pie grew stronger.
It was like a dozen cherry pies baking together. Way too sweet. Overpowering.
I staggered back, fled from the trailer. As I stood on the deck, gasping
for air in the rain, the Annex spoke again.
-
- "Too much?" it said.
-
- "Too much," I agreed. "You're
just a kid. You don't understand how things can be both better and worse
at the same time. But you've created one of those things."
-
- "I'll keep trying."
-
- And it has. This morning, the cherry
pie smell was gone. Replaced by angel food cake with just the slightest
strawberry tang.
-
- The truth is that I'd love the Annex
even if it didn't try so hard. In fact, even if it didn't try at all. Just
the way I'd love any newborn.
-
- But I'm not telling that trailer. No
sir. Because the plain fact is that if there's one dessert I go crazy for
even more than chocolate fudge brownies it's strawberry shortcake.
-
- And strawberry shortcake is what's filling
the air just inside that door.
-
- I've reached a point here in Paradise
where I can't even question the Annex's new life. I am, however, wondering
about something else.
-
- I don't know which is more bewildering
and wonderful to me. The fact that the scent exists or the fact that in
such a short time this child of the rain and Gwen's love has found the
right one.
-
- Told you it was a glorious day!
-
-
- Copyright C 2006 by Larry Brody. For
permission to reprint this column, please write to LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org.
-
- ******
-
- Author Larry Brody's weekly column, LIVE!
FROM PARADISE! appears on his website, www.larrybrody.com. He has written
thousands of hours of network television, and is the author of "Television
Writing from the Inside Out" and "Turning Points in Television."
Brody is Creative Director of The Cloud Creek Institute for the Arts, the
world's first in-residence media colony. More about his activities can
be seen on www.tvwriter.com and www.cloudcreek.org. He welcomes your comments
and feedback at LarryBrody@cloudcreek.org. Brody, his wife and their dogs,
cats, horses and chickens live in Marion County, Arkansas. The other residents
of the mythical town of Paradise reside in his imagination.
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