In the garden

In the Garden (from a prompt to describe “homeplace”)





“Sophie! Stop sticking raspberries in your mouth. You’re supposed to be picking them, not eating them.”



“Oh, Grandmother,” Sophie sighed. “They are so sweet and juicy. I just looove raspberries.” Sopie stood up to shake the berry leaves and stems from her lap, stamping her feet in the loamy soil with a two-step jig. Looking up at the gathering clouds in the late afternoon, she offered a prediction.



“It’s going to rain soon and I want to take Lightening into the barn. Can I do that now and come back?”

“That pony will be just fine with a bit of rain to cool him down. So, no. Finish this chore and fill at least three baskets before you head toward the house.”



Sophie’s grandmother also looked up and assessed the gathering storm’s arrival. Her bones ached in the morning and now the sky was saying the same thing—a storm was coming. She hoped the late summer storm wouldn’t turn into a twister.

Time passed. Berries were picked and baskets were full.



“Can I go now?” Sophie gathered up her four full baskets of berries, balancing them across her small chest. Her face was smeared with berry juice, her finger purple from picking. A toothless grin came with her request.



Grandmother gazed at her seven-year-old grandchild. Even in the diminishing sunlight, she could see Sopie’s skin was browned by a summer of swimming, bicycling and frequent farm visits. Sophie didn’t show any signs of becoming a restless child but she was full of energy and enthusiasm. That, with a strong dose of imagination led grandmother to wonder how this combination came from Sophie’s mother, her methodical daughter, or her compulsively hard-working son-in-law. Maybe she inherited the tendency for flights of fancy from her grandfather. He still talked about taking a trip out west, but at their age, that wasn’t likely. Maybe Sophie would be the one to venture away from the farm fields.



“All right, child. Go and visit the pony but when I holler to come in you sure better hightail it to the house before a second roll of thunder or you will feel it on your backside!”



Sophie nodded in a rare, quick moment of obedience and skipped off. She had learned from experience that when grandmother spoke of severe consequences, she wasn’t fooling. But one more pretend escape on Lightening—into the bracken and scattered apple trees—would be worth the risk.





5/14 a.fonte