Salad
“Salad for lunch,” Matka Lasu announced, then, mimicking Tranoc, she thumped the basket on the table with the pride of a conquering hero. “We have celery and marigolds and purslane and radishes, dandelion, garlic, and rue.” Puffed up with self-importance, she displayed with a flourish each item as she named it. Only her twinkling blue eyes betrayed her joke. And, giggling with guilty pleasure over tweaking an absent elder, I fussed over every bit of food, clapping hands and gasping with mock astonishment. Even Heidi joined the game. Her arms outstretched, my mentor bowed to the left then to the right as if to a roaring crowd. “Thank you. Thank you all,” she addressed the hailing throng. “Really, it was nothing.” The hoard of two cheered even harder. She bowed again and lowered her hands for the adoration to cease. Heidi and I went still; I quietly bowed my head. Matka Lasu looked around as if to be sure the raucous crowd was under control. One corner of her mouth flexed to a hint of a smile.
Excerpt from Forest Song: Finding Home, pp 124-125
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Vila reads from Forest Song: Finding Home
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdjiDz0UEyI