Monday's Blog Assignment

The octogenarian of the forest lifted the bundle of twigs she had gathered for kindling and lumbered towards the shanty she called home. The house, in truth a single room, consisted of four walls, and curtains which separated the abode into three sections. To the right was the bedroom, to the left, the kitchen, and ahead, the dining and living room. The octogenarian lived in her quaint house in the heart of the woods in solitude. Her family had passed on years before, and by herself she was content to abide. Each morning the woman would rouse to the call of the bluebirds who housed in the oak adjacent her house. She would give in to sleep at night, lulled by the neighboring owl's screech.

Every two weeks or so, the octogenarian found it necessary to trek into town to visit the convenience store to purchase bullets for her shotgun, flour for her biscuits, and salt to preserve her venison. The most recent visit to the general store found the woman matching her wits against the new owner of the shop. She had requested pectin so she could make her yearly jams of strawberry and a wild berry mix. Upon her arrival at the convenience store the woman expected to collect her long-awaited gelling agent but alas the owner had forgotten to enter the order into the layaway log. The old woman found herself without the necessary ingredient for her preserves. Having journeyed for miles to make the pectin pilgrimage, the woman tore into the clerk at the store in her rage over lost time and energy. She left the convenience store sans pectin and ambled back along the 14 mile trail to her woodland haven.