The Life of Saint Ismelda

After many minutes of diligent research by two intrepid scholars, Avena von Kleve and Olwen Pen Aur, it can now be revealed to the world that Appledore has another patron saint.

Evidence has come to light of the existence of Saint Ismelda, a contemporaneous to our much-loved saint Lucullus.  In fact, it appears that Ismelda was a hermit, and lived very near to Lucullus's hermitage in Ireland.  It's possible, although as yet unproven, that she may have lived in the cave next door.  However, only the evil-minded will ascribe ot this proximity any association beyond that of a similar vocation to teh monastic life. 

It's asserted that Ismelda was very beautiful (although it's unlikely Lucullus himself was aware of this, being very near-sighted), with long black hair and large eyes of an unusual and penetrating colour.  Ismelda was possessed of a pure and simple faith in God.  She also had the peculiarity of having no sense of smell whatsoever.

IIsmelda lived on a diet of herbs and beans, as did Lucullus.  And it appears they were in the habit of communicating through notes left for one another.

It seems that when Lucullus left his hermitage to follow in the step of blessed Patric, he neglected to leave a note for Ismelda.  She became alarmed, and commenced to search for him.  Thus began her remarkable quest.  It was no difficult task to follow his footprints to the sea, since he had uncommonly large feet.  But when the trail ended at the shore, Ismelda had no choice but to follow.  She vowed there and then, never to cut her hair until she found him.

Hitching a ride on a passing longboat enroute to Vinland, she arrived in America.  She had no idea which way to go, but following a similar line of logic to Lucullus's, she headed westward. 
With her pure and simple faith, she related well to animals, and she was delighted when she attracted what she believed was a bright-eyed and bushy tailed black cat.  Having no familiarity with North American wildlife, the white strip down its back meant nothing to her, nor did its pungency have any impact upon her nonexistent olfactory sense.  Her odiferous, but faitful, companion accompanied her throughout her long journey.

Upon crossing the Mississippi River, it seems she wandered south into Mexico for a time, then north almost to the Arctic, all the way vering every westward.  As she went, she acquired and created unusual garments for herself, borrowing from teh natives she encountered as well as finding interesting materials in her environs.

Meanwhile, she was  left unharmed and intact throughout her travels. No bandits, cutthroats or other rapscallions interfered with her progress with her faithful little companion.  Being possessed of a pute and simple faith, Ismelda saw this as divine intervention.

Eventually, she arrived on the shores of Okanagan Lake.  There she finally  heard news of her friend and fellow hermit, Lucullus.  But alas!  She was too late.  All that was left of him was one sandal that had floated back to shore.

She stayed on in the area, wandering a bit through the valley, staying near the various groups of natives she met.  They all thought very highly of her, but were too respectful to get very close to an obviously holy woman.

One tragic day, her single flaw proved her undoing.  Suddenly, a fissure opened in the earth and poisonious gas poured out.  The natives nearby smelled it and immediately ran off.  But Ismelda did not, possessed as she was of a pure and simple faith.  Hours later, when the natives returned, they found her dead, with her faithful, smelly little companion curled up beside her.

The natives were in a quandary as to how to dispose of her remains in an approprite way.  They could not bury her in their own sacred bruial ground because she was a stranger, and it would have meant that they could never have used the place again.  Instead, they constructed a platform in the trees on the hillside, and managed to convey her and her little companion to this place.  They surrounded her with flowers.  Then they went away and took many baths.

When they returned many months later, they saw to their astonishment, that neither her body nor that of her odiferous little friend had decayed at all.  The place where she was laid to rest is now know as Skunk Hollow in honour of her ever-faithful companion.  While it's not known exactly what happened to her remains, it is said that the odor of sanctity pervades the place to this day.

Ismelda is the patron saint of perfume, for obvious reason, and also, (for reasons that are now obscure) obnoxious laughter.  Her feast days are April 1, July 7, August 23 and November 17, as marked on the Armenian, Basque, Bolivian and Estonian calendars.