Snipped Off Her Nose

 

               Snipped Off Her Nose

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I have a clay-sculptured duck, painted in the traditional stylistically swirly blues of this region, a thing of beauty, which I had settled firmly between potted succulents in my rock garden.

I have a dog, who looks very like Tramp in the old movie of “Lady and the . . .” The dog is real and when fast on the trail of a lizard, paid no attention to my much-loved duck, bounded over its head, tilting it onto its duck beak in the process. Poor beak. In Lola’s estimation, lizard beats duck in importance. So be it. She’s a dog.

Consequently, duck lost her nose, much like the queen who was innocently sitting in her parlor eating bread and honey when along came a blackbird and snipped off her nose.

If you didn’t grow up with fairy tales and nursery rhymes, you have my full pity. It’s not too late to immerse yourself and you will be richer for the reading, full of wisdom, nonsense and fun.

I almost tossed away my poor damaged duck, still a beauty, if only from the back view.

In the same area as my succulent/rock garden, I have a chiminea, which I use to burn non-toxic paper. When not in use, I cover the top of the chiminea with a tile to keep out rain. One day, without forethought, I set my damaged duck on top of the tile, a prominent place where she leads with her damaged beak.

“I like this,” my first thought. “Duck will be a good reminder to not stick my nose where it shouldn’t be, in other people’s business.” 

We comprise a very small English-speaking community, living in the heartland of Jalisco, in a non-tourist farm community, maybe a dozen of us all told, seldom all here at the same time. We are from different backgrounds, geographic locations, education and experience. We are people who ordinarily might not be close friends but because we choose to live here, part-time or full-time, we have learned to rub together carefully. We need each other.

Recently Kathy came over to tell me, “We are cutting short our stay and returning to Canada next week.”

“I forbid it,” I said, and pretty much got the same reaction I get from my adult children. And, rightly so.

Both Kathy and I laughed. We have a longtime friendship, around twenty-five years. “I understand,” I went on to say. Richard has been in increasingly declining health, running out of steam, needing frequent rests, with his blood pressure cuff showing 0 at those times of exhaustion.

We have amazing health care here, but back home in Canada, Richard, a retired physician, knows the doctors and they all speak the same language. For something like a broken bone, Richard would get local help. For a baffling 0 on the blood-pressure readout, maybe speaking the same language is necessary, no matter how good the interpreter.

All of us friends and neighbors have stuck our noses in with various plans and offers of help, usually without benefit of full information. Nobody could be more so inclined than I, who has known these friends longest and best.

I frequently found myself standing in front of Duck, asking her for advice, for help, for an answer, “Should I? Or should I not?” She always gave me the same answer.

Despite such a good mentor, I know I interfered more than I meant to. Kathy and Richard took it in the love I meant. My friends are back in Victoria today, seeing the doctor tomorrow.

You know how if you live with someone a long time, you begin to look alike in ways? Lola and I share some characteristics. I just returned from a visit with Duck. I took my mirror. I swear our noses are similar.

Sondra Ashton

HWC—is it still called that?

January, 2026, next week

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