theLastRainsofSummer3

Yvette's ~*

Established
1980

Yvette's has a Passion for Fashion !! ~*

Witnessing the romantic, nuptial love exchanged by the two
gentle proprietors of Shell House set Shelley adrift in a
reverie of sentimentality. She began to think of a letter from
her dear cousin Esmeralda which she hadn't yet read. Cousin
Esmeralda's family had ridden the wave of immigration to the
New World where they had settled on the Gulf Coast of
Florida. Esmeralda's letters talked of long~leaf pine, jumbo
shrimp, oranges and someone named Harriet Beecher Stowe
who was writing pamphlets advertising the beauty of Florida
encouraging others to visit and live in what was being hailed
the Sunshine State. Then Shelley's mind wandered into the
lyrics of an old Irish ballad. The rhymes and the melody
came in pieces and reminded her of Sean Quinn.
   ~~Oh, Sean the plough~boy, he is a dashing blade,
     He goes whistling and singing over yonder green glade,
     He met with pretty Susan, she's handsome I declare
     She is far more enticing than the birds in the air~~
The Lark in the Morning, that was the name of that sweet old
tune. Shelley would admit to no one that she ever thought of
romance. Her age made the question inevitable from the
standpoint of traditional society, but whenever anyone
mentioned romance or love or marriage to Shelley she always
managed to dodge the issue. Long years of practise had
yielded an expertise in the politic of out maneuvering ones
peers. Shelley's personal tactic for avoiding the subject was
to keep her mind firmly on her work. A wedding day like
today made it difficult, however, to totally block out any
notion of sharing her life intimately with another. Spring,
Summer, Fall and Winter came and went but still there was no
golden wedding band on Shelley's finger. Not even an
engagement ring did she bear. There was still plenty of time
for that. There would always be plenty of time for romance
followed by marriage and children, a family of her own. At
least that's what she usually told herself. It was easy for
Shelley to float along through life in this mild manner. She
was a dreamer by nature and she wiled away the hours of her
life in fantasy. Making entries into her diary and composing
poems and novels which she hoped someday to get
published. The Friendly Flower Shoppe was a perpetual
source of inspiration for beautiful writing. Roses, tulips and
daisies were the ladies in waiting for the Red Valerian which
flourished as a theme for the town which bore its name. How
effortlessly she meandered through life with her lovely
surroundings and her solitary passions. Yes, Shelley was
comfortably shielded from pressing issues such as garnering
a reputation as an old maid. Besides, there was so much
more to life than romance. Women were enjoying the
independence and emancipation of the Victorian World with
broader and brighter vistas dawning on the socioeconomic
horizons each new day. Not a moment passed in which
another feminine maverick of the Age didn't accomplish some
new feat of individuality and self reliance heretofore unknown
to the fairer sex. Why, that very descriptive itself had become
a sort of unwarranted stereotype from which women of the
present day were at liberty to distance themselves. Shelley
wasn't a feminist, however. She didn't protest the life choices
of others and she willingly reaped the benefit from anything
new and exciting, but a club joiner she was not. She never
adopted any particular genre for herself. Never did Shelley
attempt to pigeon hole or categorize her life. She was
content to allow others the personal freedom which she
thought was their right and certainly she exercised her own
with a cunning instinct which had earned her the respect of
her peers. Peers. What a silly concept for such a small land
as Valeria. The townsfolk were in actuality her extended
family. If anyone became too serious about anything other
than caring for each other in Valeria there would have been
an eclipse or some monumental act of Nature to
commemorate the event. One sure thing about Valerians,
they looked out for one another and shared their genteelness
with the rest of the country and the world. To a person from
Valeria, life was for sharing and caring. Perhaps this defining
characteristic of her dainty home township was also a
determining factor in Shelley's continuing maidenhood.
What use had she for a husband when everyone in Valeria
was her family?

The next scenes of the Last Rains of Summer
shall be published, however, it may be some time
as I am currently passionately pouring forth page
after page of Scribbner's Ghost !! ~* I shall
indeed complete the Last Rains of Summer for
you !! ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Thank you for reading the Last Rains of Summer
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Yvette's ~*

Thank you for visiting

Yvette's treasures the opportunity to serve you ~*