A Box of Weeds

The Artist of Bowness

The artist shuffles his feet down the narrow streets of Bowness-on-Windermere, in the heart of England’s Lake District with a tin can, a long, wide stick, and some wire. Every day, new treasures await. Someone has to pick up what others leave behind.

He arrives at his tidy home, tucked away on a quiet street, and carries the cast-offs like a precious child to his workroom to begin his routine.

Within hours, the artist holds an instrument in his hand. He has painted a lake scene on the tin can, with daffodils gracing the water’s edge. He has mounted it to the stick, now sanded smooth. Fret markers have been added, and a brass tuner secures the length of wire.

He tunes the string to open G, strikes a few notes, and smiles.

Back in town, he kneels on a dirty street corner, removes his torn flat cap from his head, and places it on the ground before him.

A jaunty, simple melody floats on rustic wings through the town. He’s made so many instruments by now that he can play anything with one string or twelve.

Soon the street corner is full of fresh-faced newcomers. His hat fills fast, with pound notes and coins. Just before nightfall, a young woman approaches who has been eyeing him all day.

This is it, he thinks.

“Would you sell your instrument to me?” She asks, a timid blush graces her fair cheeks.

He feigns surprise. “Oh, I don’t know. She’s sort of sentimental to me. I couldn’t let her go for less than two hundred pounds.” He flashes a sad smile and waits.

“That’s okay. I’ll give you four hundred for it.”

The artist beams as he hands her his newest creation and digs his credit card machine out of his bag.


Word Count: 300