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| The little village, much
like so many other country villages of that year, had fallen on hard
times. For three years crops had not been good. The
windmill which ground the wheat and corn to make bread stood still.
There were only a few sheep left and they were skinny. Carts used
to carry wheat, corn, vegetables and fruit to sell in the city stood
empty on cobblestone lanes. The village people were only able to grow enough vegetables in their little home gardens to feed themselves. Farmers hoped this year was going to be better, but it would be a long time yet before the next harvest. |
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| The villagers didn't hide in their
homes because they were afraid or mean ... no; they were kind-hearted people
who just didn't have enough food to give to strangers. If they didn't
answer the door they would not have to face hungry beggars and tell
them, "no, go away". As they peeked out their windows at these new strangers, they felt badly. |
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"My tummy is starting to growl," Ted told
Porridge. "Then we should make some stone soup." "We passed a good spot for our fire, on the main road, just at the edge of town, by the creek," Ted pointed back down the road. "Maybe the farmer will let us camp there and use some of his wood for a fire. We will invite him to share our stone soup." After the farmer agreed, Porridge said, "I'll get the firewood if you get the water. There's a bucket by the pond." |
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The eye grew bigger as Ted
smiled and then the eye disappeared. "Just townsfolk being curious about us strangers," Ted said after he told Porridge. "I don't like being a stranger," Porridge said sadly. "I'm really a nice guy." "Yes, you are," reassured Ted who knew his friend had a heart almost as big as he was. Porridge got the fire going and Ted filled the pot with lots of water. It was just coming to a boil when the farmer came by. "How are things going?" he asked peering into the boiling water. |
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"We are just about to put the stone in," Ted answered. Then, as if he were opening a special gift, Ted folded back the corners of a black cloth to reveal a stone. |
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"It's a rock," said the farmer. "Just a dumb ol' ordinary everyday rock." Ted smiled and held it out for him to take a closer look. "What's them goldy lines goin' through it?" he asked Ted. "It's hard to say what those are," puzzled Ted. "They could be what gives the soup it's specialness. As good as it is, we sometimes add herbs ... 'wow-eee', herbs sure do improve the taste." Ted turned to the pot, held the stone over the centre and let it go. "Plop." "Guess I could let you have a few snips of my herbs." "I've got some onions, if you can use a few," said a lady walking towards them holding a few onions in her apron. When she got closer, Ted smiled ... not only because they now had onions for the soup but because he recognized the eye from the knot hole. |
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| "Thank you so much. Onions,
carrots, potatoes, garlic, cabbage ... they all add their own special
flavours to stone soup. My name is Ted, this is Porridge."
Porridge nodded and stirred the pot. "We hope you will stay and
share with us." A horse and buggy came clip-clopping and rumbling down the main road. When the driver saw the four of them talking around the fire he stopped and asked how everyone was doing and what they were doing. "We are making stone soup," the farmer said passing Porridge a handful of herbs to put in the pot. "Stone soup? Never heard of such a thing." |
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| It had been a long time since the villagers had eaten together; talked and laughed together. Trying to work through hard times on their own, they had forgotten how to be good neighbours and friends. |
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