anneoftheisland | anne the schoolteacher

Current Location: the garden

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billy,
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anne the schoolteacher

Anne had found the butter churn -- very basic and homemade, but very nearly what she would have used back at Green Gables -- in the compound, where someone obviously kept it to protect it from the elements. The cream she collected herself, in the process keeping the kitchen supplied with enough milk to last a little while, as not nearly enough people on the island appreciated the importance of a glass of milk. While she was sure she would never be friends with the goats, quite, she thought they at least had an understanding now, after a few days of milking.

More importantly, she'd chosen a couple of books to start with, one that she was familiar with and one that she thought they might explore together. Billy would not be a typical student, after all, and there were no requirements for what she must teach him, so she thought she would give him the chance to choose.

So after hauling the churn and the bucket of cream outside, and slipping the two books into the pocket of one of her favourite skirts, she had only to take a seat by her apple trees and wait for Billy to arrive.

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"I'm supposing that in your time you could take them for granted," said Anne. "I know that many men don't know how to make these things themselves anyway, and in cities people often have such things delivered to their door, but I've always thought the taste of things made at home was the best. Do you want to try working this?"

"Sure," Billy said, taking the bowl from her and working on mushing it like Anne had. "In my time all this stuff was available in stores, and so many different varieties, too. None of it was handmade either, it was all mass produced in factories by machines."

"That sounds..." Well, perfectly dreadful, to be honest, though certainly a lot less work. "Was it any good?" She watched as Billy picked up on how to work the butter. "Once there's a little pool of buttermilk you can just pour it off into the plants and keep going," she told him. "In a few moments I'll need to run and get some cool water and, oh, I do hope there's salt. There must be."

"It was fine, I mean, the homemade stuff is better but I never had any complaints about the food back home." Billy kind of missed Kraft Singles, actually. He saw some milk gathering in the bowl and obediently poured it out onto a nearby flower. "I think there is, the island seems to have an endless supply of the basic stuff."

"Oh, thank goodness," said Anne, rising and smoothing her skirt. "Don't go anywhere, Billy, I'll be right back!"

Anne dashed back into the compound for a few minutes, and when she returned had a pitcher of cold water and a small container of salt.

"I haven't found any butter molds yet, so we'll just have to do without," she said, and while Billy continued to work the butter, she poured a bit of the cold water in. "Go a little bit longer and then dump it out again, " she told him. "We'll do that until it comes away clear."

"Got it," Billy said, working the butter steadily, "we'll be drinking fucking butter milkshakes by the end of the day. Butter sandwiches. It'll be awesome."

Anne laughed, and when Billy dumped the water she poured a little more in. "We should make some butter molds," she said. "But not just square butter molds. Pretty butter molds. Do you think that's silly?"

"Not at all, if you're going to do something you might as well do it right," Billy said firmly. "But how are we going to make butter molds?"

"Oh, it's terribly easy," said Anne, "we can make them out of anything. We've just got to be able to squish butter into them to make a shape, and push them out again without wrecking it. Today we're just going to have to make... butter lumps, I think."

"Lumps work. Could we mold them like clay? We can have little butter sculptures. I'll make one in the likeness of Joe," Billy grinned.

Anne laughed again. "Well, I suppose you could," she said, "but it would probably work best if you chilled it a little first. I think fresh butter is a little too soft for sculpting."

Billy poured out some more water and started mixing again, letting Anne pour some fresh water in. "Then we'll have to do that," he grinned. "Until we can make our molds."

Billy wondered how Joe would feel about waking up to a large butter dildo in his ear, then figured that probably wouldn't be such a good idea.

"I think it'll be ready after this wash," said Anne, watching Billy work the butter with greater ease as he got used to the motion, pressing it up one side of the bowl and then up the other. "Then we just have to put a bit of salt in and it'll be ready to... sculpt."

Billy grinned at her. "I feel like I'm five again and you're being nice by indulging me. No wonder I like you so much, Anne."

"Just you remember that people need to eat this butter, Billy Tallent," she admonished him, with a bright smile on her face. Gesturing for him to dump the water one last time, she put in just a couple of pinches of salt for him to work into the butter. "So when shall we have our next lesson?"

"I'll be good," Billy said, somber-toned. He dumped the water out again, pleased to see it run clear, then started to work the butter once more with the salt in it. "And whenever you want to, Anne, my schedule's pretty much wide open other than Tuesdays and Saturdays."

"And I've got Wednesdays and Saturdays at the IPD," said Anne. "How often would you like to meet, then? And would you like to continue meeting here by the garden so long as the weather is nice?"

"The garden's nice. I've noticed that since I've been here I spend less and less time indoors. And let's stick to once a week for now, see where it takes us from there." Billy smiled and held out the bowl of butter for inspection. "What do you think?"

"Well, you'll just have to give it a taste, to know for certain whether it's ready or not," said Anne, encouraging him to go ahead and do just that. "And I would be happy to continue meeting with you on Fridays. I haven't got any readings for you to do this week, as I thought we might like to begin slowly, but I have got an assignment for you."

Billy looked at the butter uncertainly for a moment before he dipped the spoon in and took a small taste off the end of it. It was butter alright. "I think we have butter," he grinned. "And an assignment? Cool, lay it on me, Miss Shirley."

Anne blushed slightly at the use of her title. "Well, just because I haven't given you a reading, doesn't mean I don't want you to read. I would like you to pick a poem for us to look at next week. Anything you like. Perhaps even a song, if you would prefer, as they're a sort of poetry too. And of course I will have some other things chosen as well."

"Okay," Billy said, smiling at that. He had a lot of great songs he could bring for Anne. "I look forward to it." He gestured to the bowl of butter. "Should we stick this in the fridge?"

"Ideally, lacking a press, we should divide it out into sections and wrap them and put them in the fridge, so that they can be used up one by one. We've got to bring the buttermilk in, too. If you can carry that, Billy, I can take everything else."

Billy noded and handed Anne the bowl and spoon before picking up the churn with the buttermilk sloshing around inside. "Lead the way," he smiled.

[ooc: wrap?]

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billtallent.livejournal.com - 2006-08-02 02:23 (UTC) - Expand

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