Magpie Tales No. 1

Today is opening day for my creative writing blog, Magpie Tales.
Your initial response was incredible. A warm, woolly thank you to all
who signed up to participate, making today a huge success. I can't
wait to read all of your amazing tales.

If you consider yourself a creative writer, and happened to miss
this first photo prompt, no problem. A new weekly prompt will
be issued each Thursday, with the piece of fiction or poetry due
the following Tuesday. So, please join in whenever you can.

This is my sample piece, posted last week. For those of you who
might have missed it, or are wondering what Magpie is all about,
here it is again. The instructions were to write a short fictional piece
inspired from the photo, below.

General Washington's favorite dessert was tipsy pudding. Timing

was everything. When he was home in Philadelphia, he made it a

habit of stopping by Mrs. Anne Lippincott's row house as near tea

time as possible, preferably ten minutes to four, not a minute past.

His three-cornered hat neatly on the peg by the door, he was seated

comfortably by the fire, in time to hear her mantel clock chime four.

.

Anne's table always brimmed with scones, fresh fruit, and pudding

made with the finest sherry in the region, over sponge cake light as

a goose down feather bed. She was one of his dearest friends, and at

times, he wished he had met her years ago, before he had set his cap

for his Martha.

.

The general never took sugar in his tea, just a spot of milk, always

set out in a small, delicately engraved pewter pitcher, near his cup.

.

On a gray November day, some 200 years later the estate of

Anne Lippincott's fourth great grand niece, Stella, went up for auction

on the front lawn of her stately farm house in rural Delaware County,

Ohio. The auctioneer called out from the front porch to the small

crowd gathered outside.

.

A lot of kitchen goods. Do I hear 10?

.

I raised my hand, taking a chance on the worn cardboard box with

the green Palmolive logo on the side. Kitchen lots were dicey. But,

it was a thrill to see what prize my ten dollar bill might land; maybe

a quirky McCoy planter or a Bakelite handled spoon.

.

10 once. 10 twice. Sold to the lady in red for 10 dollars.

.

I carried the box out and slid it into the back of my old Land Rover.

Once home, I emptied the box onto the kitchen counter, piece by

piece. Two well used metal ice cube trays, several nice Mason jars

with lids, a worn, but pretty yellow calico apron, and jostled in the

bottom, an assortment of odd utensils, nearly covering a small

pewter creamer, with a delicate wreath etched on each side.
.