Penned in precise and evenly lined sentences, a blank page near the middle of a slightly scuffed, top-grain leather journal is newly inscribed. If one were to flip past the filled pages to the very beginning, one would find the first page titled with: Bernie Tweed, Bree-land followed by a series of odd symbols.
1 Mede
Home, Bree-land.
√ Take stock of larder. Need onions, salt and a new paring knife for the tang on the one I got looks chipped.
→ Set out more wine mixed with honey in basins topped with wildflowers for the swarms, recent rains got them extra hungry from being inside all day.
← Send off payment to you know who.
√ Check well-bucket for wear. Seems bout time to change it out.
≡ Feeling real lively this morn and the sun ain’t even come up yet. Just finished off some eggs and toasted bread and were writing this real quick before heading out to the bee-yard to start the day’s toil. But...
There’s a second plate of eggs left on the table, covered up.
Yep, that’s truth written down in black ink on this here page! Yours truly is over all that elfin gal nonsense, for sure, like I said I were! It’s a done deal and Bernie has moved on much to her loss.
Now being gentlemanly-like, I ain’t going to say no more on all that so’s it’s out to work I go with nary a thing else to put down here.
