The long dusty road runs alongside Blackwater pond, from which the Bondurant's waystation gets its name. For all that the name of the pond may be a little menacing, in the spring sunshine it's a pretty spot. There's just enough trees between the pond and the road that they can glimpse the water between clusters of bright green leaves. None of the trees in the area are more than a few decades old, and the ground beneath them is filled with ferns and low shrub this time of year.
Facing this picturesque scene on the other side of the road is a collection of buildings, one two stories high with a covered porch that spans the front, the other three one-story large sheds. A car and a couple of trucks are parked nearby, but it's late morning now and that's when there aren't many customers, if any. Cricket at least will recognize that the vehicles there are only those that belong to the Bondurants and Maggie, a sign that business is quiet right now.
The other sign that business is quiet is Forrest Bondurant himself, sitting on the front porch with the day's mending and a cigar. After a morning spent cooking, in his spare time he likes to sit on the porch to darn socks and patch up holes in his brothers' clothing. From here he can see anyone coming, and enjoy nature while comfortably seated. He's not a domestic-looking type, though, built like a bear in a sweater and with scars on his hands. Forrest looks like a human bull terrier, all shoulders and neck and bred for a fight. He notices people approaching his waystation, and he notices that one of them is just Cricket, but one is Not.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2019-07-18 12:43 am (UTC)Facing this picturesque scene on the other side of the road is a collection of buildings, one two stories high with a covered porch that spans the front, the other three one-story large sheds. A car and a couple of trucks are parked nearby, but it's late morning now and that's when there aren't many customers, if any. Cricket at least will recognize that the vehicles there are only those that belong to the Bondurants and Maggie, a sign that business is quiet right now.
The other sign that business is quiet is Forrest Bondurant himself, sitting on the front porch with the day's mending and a cigar. After a morning spent cooking, in his spare time he likes to sit on the porch to darn socks and patch up holes in his brothers' clothing. From here he can see anyone coming, and enjoy nature while comfortably seated. He's not a domestic-looking type, though, built like a bear in a sweater and with scars on his hands. Forrest looks like a human bull terrier, all shoulders and neck and bred for a fight. He notices people approaching his waystation, and he notices that one of them is just Cricket, but one is Not.