** Photo taken one Wednesday morning at the end of Morpethroad.
It was just on dawn on Grimace Street and Miss Marble looked out her window to see the sunrise. Not just any sunrise but the sunrise she waited all year for.
Today she would harvest the sunrise.
In the same way, moon dust was useful capturing the sunrise and bottling it was a desired outcome as the uses for bottled sunrise were something out of this world.
When she was a young girl and learning her craft, an apprentice you might say to her grandmother, Jessie Marble, she had been taught an old and secret method to harvest the sunrise, but only the sunrise that occurred on May 4th each year.
Her granny had learned the technique from her granny and so the method had been in the family a long time. Miss Marble as has been revealed in earlier stories was an old witch even though she looked around fifty years of age.
Bottled sunrise was used, she discovered, to help men regrow their hair, and not just on their head. In an age of promiscuity, it wasn’t only your head that suffered from baldness. There were all sorts of nasties out there and bottled sunrise was just the medicine to fix that potentially embarrassing situation.
Apart from that it worked as a confidence booster for the nervous first date, it was very effective against warts and mothers would sometimes slip a drop or two into their children’s lunches to give their child that little extra to get through the day.
Right now, though Miss Marble needed to ‘up and at ‘em’, as she’d say. Taking her large gold umbrella, she went out into her back yard to set it up. The umbrella had a gold spike that absorbed the sunrise rays and transferred them into a vat she had hooked up to it. Once the sunrise was over she would take the vat into her kitchen, heat it for three hours thereby converting the sunrise rays into a liquid before bottling the liquid and storing it for those occasions it might be needed.
She knew that Henry Wordsmith would be around later in the day. Henry was a tad loose with his moral approach to society and he had learned the significance of May 4th. He would front up at Miss Marble’s door, his hat in his hands, his face sorrowful knowing full well that Miss Marble would know why he was there.
After confessing his sins, the same ones as he had confessed to the last year, Miss Marble would insist that Henry drop his pants to prove his ‘misfortune’.
Having done so, and experiencing that an inspection of his private bits by Miss Marble, was in no way a pleasant experience, he would dress himself, his eyes still downcast as he could hear Miss Marble fossicking about in her kitchen. She had long given up thinking the indignity of her checking him out may have brought about a change in his ways.
She would return to find him his annual chastened self. He would gratefully accept the small vial of sunrise to take home and administer.
As he left and stifling a giggle, she would say: “May the 4th be with you.”