Memories Blossom

Clear Water’s snorted as she ran the oiled cloth along the bookshelf. It was a brilliant spring morning, bright and clear, though winter’s invigorating chill still lingered. The bright light of the sunrise shone through the many windows placed high on the walls. The windows were small, and placed tastefully throughout the inn. They let in a surprising amount of light, considering how little actually penetrated the thick cover of the trees.

While most of the inn gave a sense of muted happiness, lit enough to see easily but not glaringly bright, her small nook was a very different place. It extruded slightly from the side of the house, placed carefully at the end of the long hall that was the main artery to the inn. Doors on both sides of the hall lead into small rooms where visiting ponies could rest, each and every one a work of art. What made the alcove a beautiful decoration for the hall though, were its walls. Rather than the expected walls of the same smooth, polished birch, it had very thick, clear glass to serve as its borders. While the rest of the inn was comfortably lit, this small space was almost blindingly bright, perfect for reading without straining her eyes.

It was where she spent most of her time, curled up with one of the many books that rested neatly on the shelves bordering the cushioned seat that lay in the center of the alcove. The plush red seat was almost sinfully comfortable, conformed perfectly to her body after so many years of having her small form resting upon it.

Currently, Clear was engaged in her weekly cleaning regime, dusting and wiping down all of her bookshelves, the bar, the two tables, and nearly every other wooden surface in the inn. She had already cleaned the windows, and the glass wall near her sparkled in the light. One more pass with the dust cloth, and a quick run with the polish, and she was done. The bookshelves were always her last job, so that once she finished she could toss the soiled rags onto the hallway floor, and grab a book.

More often than not, her cleaning took no more than an hour or two. Today though, without the various forms of help her animal friends provided, the job was taking much longer. However, winter had only ended a few weeks ago, and without ponies to wrap up winter, and no weather patrol to usher in clear skies and warm weather to melt the snow, the wildlife in the wilds took much longer to rouse in the spring.

Now, almost four hours in, she was finally nearing the finish line. Her hooves ached, and her legs weren’t faring much better. They were sore from their constant exertion, and she wanted nothing more than to simply collapse into the warm embrace of the seat.

Sighing, she set to work, starting by removing all of the books from their shelves, stacking them in neat piles along the floor. Once the shelves were clear, she swiped the dust cloth once over all of the surfaces, a preliminary pass. Flipping the rag over, she inspected it for dust, and smiled. As usual, nothing on her bookshelves remained in place long enough to really collect dust.

Dust cloth still in hoof, the white mare reached down, picking up the spray bottle on the ground nearby. Spritzing the cloth several times, she set to with gusto.

It took only moments to clean the shelves of the minimal dust clinging to them, and another to wipe them with the oil soaked rag, leaving the warm smell of oranges clinging to the wood. Freshly polished, the pale birch gleamed with a luster much like the glass, though where the glass was clear, the shelves made a perfect mirror.

Taking a moment to admire her reflection, she grinned. She always loved the contorted reflection that the rounded edges of the wooden shelves created. The distortion was something that she found entertaining every time she cleaned, and she always took several minutes to just move about, eying her reflection in many of those round corners. Some would stretch her head, so that her face seemed to be at least as long as her body, while other’s would twist her entire body into a wavy mess.

Half crouching, and looking up at the shelf above eye level, she snorted. Rising slightly, she eyes the image, then sank back down until it returned to the glossy surface of the wood. When it finally came back into clear sight, she froze, staring intently.

Some combination of the light, and the angle had cast a very peculiar reflection back at her. Her entire body seemed to be so small as to be nonexistent. Except for a portion of her face, where her eyes stood out in startling contrast, wide and magnified many times over. She could see the grey irises, and the small, black pupils darting and quivering slightly, every now and then contracting slightly.

It took her several moments to break the spell the vision of herself had cast, but after several moments of intent staring, she could feel her legs trembling.

In fact, now that she noticed, she had been crouched awkwardly for several minutes. Straightening, she cleared her throat, and began to place the many volumes carefully back into their proper place.

After they were all placed neatly back from whence they had come, Clear smiled to herself, looking out at the bright day. Here and there, a bird flitted about through the boughs of the trees, each one heavy with the brilliant green of new leaves. More than a few squirrels capered about on the branches, hopping from one to another with reckless abandon. Occasionally, one would overestimate, and hurl himself into space only to find that the slender twig he had been aiming for had actually been another foot away. Then the reddish ball of fur would go flailing into the air, landing in the snow with a small plume to mark his landing.

Then the indestructible little critters would pop out of the small holes they made in the melting snow, rapidly shaking off the chilly slush from their little heads.

Clear Water’s grinned at the sight of them frolicking about, enjoying the chilly morning air. With one final look as many of the fallen rodent’s friends pointed and laughed at his mistake, the pony turned her back on their little pagent, and set off down the hall. Scooping up the dirty linens as she walked past, she carried the cloths and the small spray bottle with her, heading down to begin lunch. Then, once the stew was cooking over the fire, she would settle down and read for a while. Or maybe, she would go outside, and join in the animal’s play.