Page 62 - Contrast2009

seeing ireland

It was, the sheep that made him pause. As he straightened from

tucking a muddy Dr. Pepper can into the back of his stroller,

there---theywere-lolling in the pastel green meadows of an

Ireland summer. In Cornersville, there was a mid-Autumn

chill, the stench of decomposing leaves,~dark puddles eating

.intothe cement of Main Street. The once-white canopies of

:'thetraveling art festiva_l:-wereunevenly streaked with the

reminder 'of'-rain,blank canvases marred by a charcoal pencil'-

All around him, strangers -we-rescurrying to cram paintings

J ".' -
and phot.os into crates and the crates into rieon=coLor-ed

pickups. -

it was'~alter's daily outing, the one routine that had

survi ved his-_retirement seven years ago.' As soon as the

streetlamps began to glitter each evening, he would tug

his red, knit cap- over his thinning hair, pat his keys into

the corner pocket of his vest, and snuggle Bernie into the

stroller cushions. Down Patterson Drive and up Main Street,

stooping to g~ther forgotten plastic bottles- and aluminum

cans, then a brie'f'st.op by the recycling center at Bethesda.

He was always home just in time to watch the stars rise

behind his chimney.

Today, tents and pickups and overflowing crates barred his

'path, and he felt as though he had stumbled into an enemy

encampment stuffed with soldiers polishing their weapons for

the next day's skirmish. Everywhere, x-rated paintings and

gaudy photographs were whisked away as he approached. And

then there were the sheep.

Walter halted abruptly two feet from the painting; in

front~of him, the stroller lurohed to a stop.-There was a

you-ng woman in the tent, s~ribbiing something on a scrap

'c:>pfaper, 'inaudible words hissing from her lips; -A waft· of

flower-scented perfume attacked him, making a cough riirrib Le -Ln.

,his .t.horet .,
"Ye-s?" The woman snapped her head in his direction.

"Did you paint this?" He pointed a warped finger towards

-~he Irish meadow.

_ "Of cour se v " -She crumbled the scrap of paper in her palm,

cruS,hing it with her thumb ..

"It's nice. Peacef~l-like."

She shrugged. "Nicer than this town anyway. Here I can't

go anywherewitho~t stepping on a cigarette butt or a wad of

gum. I mean, 'sanitation? Cleanliness? ,Anyone?"

Bernie whined, and Walter slid his h~nd into the stroller

to scratch the rough brown triangle on his beagle's neck.