The Skylark Bell - Chapter 8, Mystery at Mirror Pond

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 7 – Mystery at Mirror Pond, where some alone time in nature with her sketchbook proves to be anything but relaxing for Magpie!

Music: Nightbridge by Cannelle (www.cannellemusic.com)

Find The Skylark Bell online: www.theyskylarkbell.com

Instagram: @theskylarkbell

Twitter: @melissaoliveri

Patreon: www.patreon.com/melissaoliveri

TRANSCRIPT:

Things with Wings Productions, with the support of Whimsical Productions and Collected Sounds presents: Episode 7 of The Skylark Bell.  I am your host Melissa Oliveri.  

In our last episode, Magpie accidentally discovered a secret attic that had been sealed up decades before.

In today’s episode we continue our adventure with Chapter 7 – Mystery at Mirror Pond, where some alone time in nature with her sketchbook proves to be anything but relaxing for Magpie!

So get comfortable… grab a blanket, and a warm drink… and let’s get started

Magpie drinks down the last of her orange juice, pushes her sleeves up and gets started on the dishes. Outside the kitchen window she can see the old rail fence and, in the field beyond it, the Starlings’ farm.  Lucas is spending the morning with his grandmother in the neighbouring town, so Magpie has made her own plans.  She stacks the last of the clean plates in the cupboard with a thud and hurries to the hall closet.

“I’m heading to the pond!” she shouts to her mom, struggling to pull on her boots as Scarlet rubs up against her legs, purring loudly with affection.

Mirror Pond sits across from the old farmhouse in the middle of what was once a rock quarry that had long ago been filled in with gravel.  One of Magpie’s favourite discoveries since moving to Pocket is sitting with her journal on the large rock in the middle of the pond and drawing sketches or writing stories as the water gently ripples around her, it helps her clear her mind.

“Boy, you don’t stop for a second!” laughs her mom, walking in from the sunroom and wiping paint off a long, thin paintbrush.  Magpie’s mom is an artist; she paints bright, unusually coloured landscapes.  She’s not famous by any means, but does well enough that the two of them can live comfortably.  She has finally set up her studio in the sunroom and is working on a commissioned piece for the gallery she used to work at in the city.  “I found some great vegetables at the market to grill for dinner, is it a date?” she asks, picking up the cat for a snuggle. 

Magpie nods. Her mom is a great cook and Magpie loves when they have dinner ‘dates’.  They decorate the picnic table, light a few candles, and stay out well into the night chatting and telling stories.  “Can’t wait!” she says, tucking her notebook, sketchbook and pencils into her backpack, “See you later!”

Magpie gently closes the front door behind her, skips down their long driveway and waits for a pickup truck to drive by before crossing the road. She gingerly hops over an old, dilapidated fence and steps through some overgrown grass to get to the edge of the quarry. From there, she scurries excitedly down the stony path to the pond, and muddles across a few feet of water before settling down on the rock with a satisfying thud. She takes a moment to soak in the sound of the water settling after the disruption she caused wading through it to the rock nearby, a small turtle slowly makes its way onto a fallen log and turns its face up to the sun.  It’s a perfect day for sketching, the still water reflects the feathery white clouds strewn across the sky while the sunlight filters through the leaves and flowers, giving them a surreal glow.

Magpie pulls a shiny red apple out of her pocket and takes a large bite before grabbing her pencil.  She chews slowly, deep in thought, as she starts drawing outlines of the scene before her:  The stones in the quarry, faraway hills, tall grass in the field, the mound of r