I hope for you this is a sparkling happy morning. For me, I didn't sleep well, too hot, I'm tired and... blah. Instead of sitting here whining and moping, I thought I would offer up something a little on the silly side.
Heeere's A. Nonnie Mowse!
The postbox under the hedge clicked shut over the card the postman had bent low to deliver. He had a package to deliver, too, but wasn’t sure where to find the door. His fingers reached to the edge of his cap. When he scratched his thin gray hair, the hat tipped sideways, until it almost fell off.
“Huh,” he grunted. He looked up, scanning the tidy garden behind the fence. The address was clear. 16 Green Garden Lane. He had found the box, even though it was tiny compared to the one at 14 Green Garden Lane, but he could not find the door.
Taking two steps along the path, still peering closely over the hollyhocks, roses and zinnias that poked above the fence, he thought he spotted something. A small door, no bigger than six inches tall, was tucked into a corner of the foundation stones of number 14. From the postbox under the hedge, a narrow path, paved with smooth pebbles, ran to the arch that enclosed the doorway.
Curious, he paced back to the garden gate for number 14. The spring that held it closed creaked when he opened it, and it closed with a smack when he let it go. Gingerly, he scooted between the roses, pushing the thorns away from his spanking new uniform so they wouldn’t snag. He brushed by the zinnias and hyacinths until he reached his goal.
Reaching down into his big deep bag, the brown bits worn white, he found the small, neatly wrapped box with its label. He checked it, for about the sixth time since it had landed on his part of the sorting tables back at the office.
A. Nonnie Mowse
16 Green Garden Lane
Clovington, Kent
It even had the postal code, neatly printed alongside. The postman scratched his head again, his habit when he was befuddled. Then, doing his job, he bent down and scratched at the wood panels that looked like nothing more than popsicle sticks, glued together and painted a cheerful sunny yellow.
After only a moment, the door opened.
“Yes?” Came the high squeaky voice. Bright brown eyes, sharp with their own curiosity, looked up at him above the pointed nose that twitched. From behind the little brown furry creature swathed in a frilly apron came the sounds of laughter and music. The strains of Happy Birthday swirled out through the open door.
Startled, unable to believe what he was seeing, the postman stepped back, stumbling when his foot found a stone hidden under the shrubbery. He fell backward as his cap slipped forward and he landed, bottom first, in the very rose bushes he had tried so hard to avoid. His uniform snagged. He heard the ripping sound from his jacket as his jaw just about hit his chest and his eyes almost popped from his head.
“Oh, dear, dear, dear!” The creature tutted and came out into the bright sunshiney day. “Are you quite all right?” She stood there, peering up at him.
“Yuh … yuh … yuh …” He couldn’t think of a word so he stopped trying.
The mouse’s lips curled in a smile as the lids crinkled down over the eyes. “Yes. My name’s Alice, although I really do prefer Nonnie.” She gestured back at the open door where the singing had stopped. “May I offer you a piece of cake? It’s my nephew’s birthday today and I know he won’t mind, particularly since you brought his gift. You won’t fit into my house but if you don’t mind eating out here, I’ll be happy to fetch a piece.”
So, there sat Alfred B. Pompernice, eating a morsel of chocolate cake in the garden of number 16 Green Garden Lane, listening to the sounds of the party inside and meeting all of A. Nonnie Mowse’s friends and relations as they came to see the curious man who had come to call.
****
Have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
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