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[color=7ea7d8][i] The sky was a grey colored mist when she woke up that morning. Her sister slept soundly on the other side of the bed, deep sleeper like she was. But Amelia woke up early this morning. She woke up early when she knew that they would be visiting the pond out back. Untying her sun-highlighted brown hair from her sleeping curls, she pulled it all back behind her head and tied it up loosely. Pulling on a powder blue dress and the grey apron she always wore around the farm, she picked up her shoes and snuck out into the narrow hallway. 

On the second floor, were everyone slept, there was a small powder room. She passed it by though, considering her mother might wake if she heard Amelia washing her face. Her mother was an educated, newly widowed, society butterfly, as far as women settlers went. Mrs. Shirewood was an upright woman with high standards for her daughters, as well as everyone else around them. She’d have a fit if she saw what Amelia looked like. That fit would be even worse if she knew where her eldest daughter was going.

Slipping down the stairs as quietly as she could manage, Amelia went to the kitchen. She grabbed an apple and a piece of bread and cheese to break her fast, eating it in a hurry. Using the kitchen basin she washed her face and hands, before rushing to the pantry and grabbing one of the larger baskets on the floor. Last night she had filled it with less desired pantry foods that her mother normally over looked. It was all good food, just not favored by the social queen of Rolling Hills Township. Shoes and basket in hand, she slipped out into the misty humid morning. Their small whitewashed farm house stood in the middle of a sea of fields. 

With her father gone due to small pox, planting season had been managed by all three Shirewood women. With the help of Zachary, their neighbors eldest son, of course. Zachary was two years older than her, three-and-twenty, and still unmarried. Of course Amelia knew the reason he was still unmarried was because he fancied her. But the curly haired blonde with the stream-water blue eyes just did not rile any emotion in her. 

In fact she felt quiet unimpressed and dispassionate about his suit. But perhaps this up coming year she would consider him. She wasn’t getting any younger, as her mother constantly reminded her. Most of the other settler’s daughters had been married off by now and had at least one or two babes. And her sister, Heather, a blossom of beauty in her seven-and-ten years, could not marry until Amelia formally tied the knot.

But as Amelia trudged out into the grey veiled morning, trailing her way through the tough sea of corn stalks, all of those troubles seemed to wash away. She hummed softly, finally breaking into the clearing around the giant oak tree near the small pond. Setting the basket down at the foot of the tree, she brushed off her reddened hands. Everything was peaceful, the morning doves cooing their melancholy melodies while the swooping sparrows twittered about her head. 

She went to the edge of the clearing, closest to the tree, where all the wild flowers grew. Still humming softly to herself, Amelia began to pick a small bouquet of the Queen Anne’s lace, daisies and iron weed flowers. A rustle behind her made her start and turn around quickly.[/i][/color]