Zora, talkin bout owls
"Miss Lettie, you remember those old owls?"
"Lord, Zora. You could be talking about 100 upside down things. Care to whittle that number down?"
"You know Miss Lettie, those ones you'd hang."
"Zora, all you did was eliminate the barn owls. Hanging?"
"Yeah, not quite made of yarn..."
"Zora. Macramé. Made a comeback a couple of years ago. Huge in the 70s. Big ole eyes in em."
"Yeah! Those. They made a comeback?"
"Well, not so sure about the owls, but the macramé did. I hear it was big on Etsy for a few minutes. What are you after?"
Zora leaned against the porch rail and looked out at nothing in particular the way she did when she was working up to something.
"Miss Lettie, owls are supposed to be wise."
"Yep, that's what they say."
"Why do you think they say that?"
"Lord child, I don't reckon I know. It was Athena's familiar and she was the goddess of wisdom. But they must have thought night birds knew something the others didn't well before the Ancient Greeks. Maybe cause they're always asking who."
"Oh, Miss Lettie."
Miss Lettie rocked once and said nothing.
"You looking for a wisdom totem, Zora?"
"Yeah, maybe. Don't know. Something about those old macramé owls. Seen em around here and there, like old relics."
"Oh sure, old relics are right. Might be some indigenous mystery to them. Owls showed up in that old TV show, Double Peaks or something. Maybe like a dream catcher."
"That might be something, Miss Lettie. Don't think the indigenous people and the Ancient Greeks were trading notes though."
"I wouldn't be so sure the Greeks couldn't cross the pond, honey."
Zora went quiet with that for a moment.
"Like the really ancient Greeks. Before they forgot. But why owls?"
Miss Lettie looked out at the tree line before she answered.
"Darlin, the night is full of powerful stuff. A bird that decides night is for him, he's going to circle far and wide with those big eyes catching field mice. He's seeing things you don't need to be worrying about. You hear that old owl up on a branch who-ing his lungs out and you start thinking he's protecting you."
Zora nodded slowly.
"Miss Lettie, those hanging owls? I keep thinking I want one, but I don't know where to get one."
"Get one?" Miss Lettie looked at her like she'd said something slightly foolish. "You don't get one. You make one. Get on your bike and go ask at the library. If they don't have a book on macramé, they'll call up Livonia and have one for you in a day or two. It'll have the pattern. Then you just need to figure out what you're planning to make it out of. Play around with some basic yarn, ask Harry, then I can just see you making one out of corn shucks later in the season."
"Corn husks. That would be cool."
"Yeah cool, just dust it with some diatomaceous earth the day before."
"Dia...what?"
"Diatomaceous earth, wear gloves. Keep the bugs out. Harry'll know what I mean."
Zora looked uncertain. Everyone in Belle Perdue knew Harry's reputation.
"Harry doesn't really like company."
"No he doesn't."
"He'll run me off."
"Maybe." Miss Lettie rocked. "Go anyway. Tell him I sent you. Ask about the yarn. Don't ask him anything else."
"What if he's rude?"
"Then he's rude and you leave. But he won't be."
Zora picked at a loose thread on her sleeve. "Miss Lettie, how do you know Harry has yarn?"
Miss Lettie looked at her with that expression she used when a question answered itself.
"Because I know Harry."
"Does he knit or something?"
The rocking chair moved once. Twice.
"Go ask about the yarn, Zora."
Zora found Harry on his porch, which was empty except for a gray cat arranged across the top step like it had always lived there and always would.
Harry looked up from nothing and squinted.
"Miss Lettie sent me," Zora said. "I need to ask about yarn."
Harry looked at her for a long moment. The cat didn't move.
"What kind," he finally said.
"For macramé. I'm making an owl."
Something shifted in Harry's face that wasn't quite a smile and wasn't quite not one.
"Come up on the porch then," he said. "Don't touch anything."
When Zora came back two hours later she had a paper bag with four different weights of natural cotton cord, a recommendation for the library's Sunset Knit and Fiber book which Harry said was better than anything they'd have on macramé specifically, and strict instructions about tension that she'd written on the back of a receipt because Harry had been surprisingly specific.
She sat down across from Miss Lettie without saying anything for a moment.
"He knew exactly what I needed," Zora finally said.
"Mm."
"He had a whole system in there. All organized by weight and color."
"Mm."
"Miss Lettie." Zora looked at her. "How long have you known?"
Miss Lettie rocked.
"Long enough."
"Why didn't you ever say anything?"
"Wasn't mine to say."
Zora thought about that.
"He made me swear not to tell anyone."
"Then don't tell anyone."
"I'm telling you."
"You're not telling me anything I don't already know, cher."
The gray cat had followed Zora back and was now sitting at the bottom of Miss Lettie's porch steps like it was considering its options.
Miss Lettie looked at it.
"Harry's going to say that cat just wandered off."
"Did it?"
Miss Lettie smiled at the tree line.
"Go home Zora. Come back when you've finished the owl."
Explore more: Belle Perdue
The Archivist of Bayou Elsewhere
