Yardley Talks
I was walking our dog in the back yard the other day. Suddenly she stopped, sniffed the air, and began barking. I looked around to see what had caught her attention.
Sitting on one of the large rocks that adorn our back yard was - something. It appeared to be a person, but she was very small, doll-sized. She sat cross-legged on the rock, laughing, holding a fluffy dandelion ball and blowing the little airplane seeds into the air. This was January, wintertime, dandelions don’t bloom and form seeds in the winter. I backed away a step or two and reached to pick up Rosebud, who was still barking and dancing around.
“What’s the problem? Never seen a dandelion?” The little person snapped.
“Ummmm.” I tried to get enough moisture in my dry mouth to speak. “Not in winter.”
“Or is it me? Don’t you know me?”
“I - I don’t think so. What’s your name?” I stammered.
“Yardley,” she answered.
“Yardley, that’s kind of an odd name, isn’t it?”
“Remember it?” She cocked her head and looked expectantly at me, a little grin playing around her tiny perfect lips.
“Ummm, the only Yardley I remember was a company that made inexpensive colognes when I was a kid.”
“There you go.” She smirked.
“Who named you for a brand of cologne?”
“You did.”
“Me?”
Well, I’m YOUR muse. Good grief.” She threw the dandelion stem down and twisted around on the rock, turning her back on me.
“My muse? Really? Why haven’t I seen you before?”
“You haven’t been paying attention to me lately. I decided drastic measures were called for.” She glanced over her shoulder for a second.
Indignant, I said, “Not paying attention? I have, too. I’ve just had so many projects going. And the holidays. What have you been trying to get me to pay attention to?”
“I thought my name would remind you.”
“Your name?”
“Hello! Yardley? Haven’t you been intending to write a column about scents that make you feel good for a long time? That list beside your computer?”
“Well, yeah. But I had to do the Christmas column.”
“Christmas is over. Get with the program. What are some of the scents you were going to write about?”
I pictured the list. “Vanilla flavoring. Coffee perking. Biscuits baking.”
She turned back to face me. “Anything besides food smells?”
“The good earth smell when rain has just started to fall.” Dropping down to the grass near the rock I wrapped Rosebud’s leash around my wrist. She had lost interest in Yardley and was investigating a nearby hole in the ground. “There’s a shrub that grows wild in Georgia, it has wine-colored blooms and they smell so divine. We just called it sweet shrub. I guess it has a horticultural name. The boys used to bring stems of it to Draketown school. I love that smell.”
“So get it written and uploaded. You think a good fairy is going to come along and do it for you?” She giggled so hard she nearly fell off the rock.
I smiled and reached out to steady her. “There’s another one. I don’t know if Yardley sold it, I need to research that. Evening in Paris. It came in really dark blue bottles. Single or in sets, perfume and toilet water. It was THE Christmas gift for moms and grandmas in the ‘forties.”
Alarmed, I realized I could see the rock and grass through Yardley, she was becoming transparent. “Wait. Come back. I need you.”
Her diminutive figure was almost gone and her answer was so faint I had to strain to hear. “I’ll be back. Just keep listening.”
Stay tuned for more adventures with Yardley!
©2007 Sylvia Nickels