Dwellers at the Threshold

A gentle, warm morning on the Sonoran Desert. I have large, cream and pink-colored Moonstone rose blooming in my garden. Purple lantana, and the white, crinkled blossoms of native gourds enliven my tiny backyard garden today.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think of my novel Building Air Castles, about the year 3000 when the human community lives sustainably upon the Planet Earth.

Chapter 1 Dwellers at the Threshold

"Fran awoke with a start. Had she overslept again? The eventful day spread out before her as she rubbed her eyes and turned to Ridley who was hard asleep, a gentle snore issuing from his parted lips.

Fran sat up on one elbow, her glistening black hair flowing over the dark brown flesh of Ridley's muscular arm. A mischeivious grin spred over her angular face as her hand followed the contour of his back, arousing him. 'Hey, sleepy-head' she whispered. He rolled over. 'What time is it?' he muttered. Ridley reached around Fran and drew her into the crook of his embrace. This was Fran's favorite spot in the world, safe and warm in bed with the man she adored.

They would just stay in bed and let the world go spinning by, she thought. It had been six months since their Joining Ceremony, but it seemed as if she had always been with him. From childhood, when they first met at age six, Fran had known him - this man she would someday join with, the one chosen for her by her mother.

Flashes of his moon-shaped face encircled with orchids from his native Pohnpei, the pure white of his eyes against his chestnut skin, the fullness of his lips on that day they were joined. He radiated youthful beauty and joy. She saw his face - the man who always righted her world and anchored it in something timeless and good.

'Girl, you better get going or the rivers will run dry!'

She smothered him with her pillow and slowly extracted herself from their warm cacoon. Reluctantly, she plodded to the shower. Fran prepared for the journey across the world to high desert to her clan's lmeeting. This time was different though - she would take the lead as the new Chancellor of the Federated Deserts of the World.

As she let the cool waters flow over her warm skin, she thought back to the clan mothers of her line. From babyhood, Fran's clan mothers recognized a natural leader, a budding orator in the baby who talked very early and in full sentences. Even as a toddler her elocution was legend. She possessed the qualities of a peacemaker, and even more important - she was a Poet. In her day, it was the highest calling, the revered quality in a human being. A Poet provided a voice for Spirit to talk to humankind.

Being a poet and possessing a sense of the ironic came down an ancient blood line of matriarchs and patriarchs who kept alive the Great Learning from the dark ages of the Earth. Passed with care and diligence, the knowledge remained vibrant and responsive to each new generation's challenges and dreams. Now it was Fran's turn to guard the ancient wisdom for her clan.

'Are you ever coming out?!' Ridley's teasing baritone shook her back into the moment. 'I'll tell them my desert rat has just wasted enough water to grow a garden!'

Ridley had risen, his nakedness turning her to mush. How would she ever get by without him for a whole month? she mused darkly. Ridley began to sing his welcome song to the morning, standing on the patio of their tiny bungalo in the central desert of Australia. Before him spread the valley that held the community of Alice Springs.

The old expression 'fish out of water' came to mind as Fran dressed, wondering that Ridley made the leap from his tropical homeland to the red earth of the Gibson desert. Ayers Rock loomed in the distance as Fran looked out over the verdant valleyscape before her.

Fran was leaning over her duffle bag folding the last of her garments when she felt Ridley's arms encircle her, his warm breath on her neck. 'You dressed...how unfortunate."

She would be half an hour late leaving the house."

Peace,
Susan