Short Story

Perfect Day For Planting

Written for Six Sentence Story where we are asked
to be creative in no more than six sentences
using the word “light”. This is my story.

Colette, typically looking away the second I snap a photo! Eyeroll!

We got a late start with spring cleaning in our yard, especially along the side of the house where our attached garage is located; even though the gardeners had cleared a lot of old shrubbery away for some new plants and bushes, it was just not meant to be after we were derailed by the sudden death of my husband’s twin brother on April 2 and me being sidelined since the first week of May by a major sinus infection (the heavy-duty antibiotics have left me “out of commission” and able to eat only extremely light meals or, at times, nothing at all).

In mid-May, we put in a couple of small white azaleas, relocated a baby rhododendron which wasn’t doing well in the far back corner of the yard and planted a bit of Blue Bugle and Lilies of the Valley for light ground cover (along the side of the house, not visible in this pic), but that’s as far as our broken spirits and depleted bodies would allow us go.

When Colette is here with us (Tuesdays, Thursdays and the occasional Saturday or Sunday) and the weather is good, she wants to be outside; hell, even if the weather isn’t good, she wants to be outside – a phenomenon about most children that escapes me as they (well, she definitely) seem to be impervious to heat or cold or rain or snow or wind – all the elements, times when Bill and I would prefer being inside nestled in our recliners with a lightweight blanket.

Speaking of nestled, we discovered that sparrows had made their nest in an old watering can in the corner of Colette’s playhouse; the mama and papa birds are very resourceful, building the new home in a location almost invisible to us, one which I discovered quite by accident when I heard a faint chirping noise coming from the playhouse and 
. with my trusty flashlight in hand 
. I went to take a peek but was immediately dive-bombed by a wildly protective kamikaze sparrow which, when it sped just inches by my head, had me believing it was a small bat …. terrifying!

Tuesday the temps soared to a scorching 86ÂșF – a leap from the mild low-70s of just the day before – so it was, according to Colette, the “perfect day for planting!” 
. a concept I did not agree with thinking it was too hot and we would be in direct blazing sunlight for the entire time 
. but I did not object (mainly because the child could not be dissuaded and it was far less taxing than yet another round of the Disney edition of Monopoly); armed with our faithful spades, Bill with his macho shovel and pitchfork, we planted another azalea along the side of the house, then Colette and I pulled all the weeds and detritus from the two ancient cement planters on either side of the bench you see in the above photo, replacing all of what was growing in them as haphazardly as Albert Einstein’s hair with two bright pink kalanchoe plants, then stood back to proudly bask in the glory of our gardening prowess.

Of course, manual labor such as that demands a reward and certainly not a monetary one which would be looked upon with disdain and confusion by a 4-year-old whose idea of recompense consists solely of instant gratification in the form of ice cream – the I-don’t-give-a-hoot-how-messy-I-get kind – and after getting Colette situated in her pink fairy chair, pinning up her waist-length hair and snapping on the 15-year-old bib we originally used for our first grandchild, Mckenna, I disappeared into the kitchen and returned with fudge-covered vanilla ice cream pops for Colette and Bill and a lemon ice for me; judging by the look on her face and the twinkling, totally satisfied light in her eyes (photo below), Colette was over the moon with her sweet, sloppy treat and …. you know 
. she was right after all about it being the “perfect day for planting!”

What being a kid is all about!

NAR©2024

This is “Let It Grow” by Eric Clapton

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and are not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Flash

Demons And Wizards

Written for Weekend Writing Prompt #361;
93 words exactly using the prompt word ‘pilgrimage’

A rare alternate album cover of Heep’s “Demons and Wizards”

It was the early 1970s and the four of us scored tickets to see Uriah Heep in Allentown, PA. It was the dog days of August 
 the kind of sun that blisters your skin in minutes 
 and the concert was outdoors. The drive was 3 hours each way in scorching temperatures but we were going to that concert come hell or high water. Allentown became our Mecca and the road trip our personal hard rock pilgrimage. The details of that day are a little sketchy but the concert was freakin’ awesome.

NAR©2024
93 Words

This is “Easy Living” by Uriah Heep

© NAR – Uriah Heep, Allentown Fair Grounds, Aug. 26, 1973

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.

Uncategorized

SUMMER AND SMOKE

This is a photo of a rock in my backyard, one of many in the town where I live. It’s actually more than just a rock; it’s a boulder and what you’re seeing is just the tip. The rest of this massive rock is underground and a section twice as big as what’s visible above ground takes up one corner of the very rear portion of our basement workshop/laundry room. So common are these large rocks that there are areas in my neighborhood with names like Rockcliff Estates, Rockingstone, Rocky Hollow and Rock Ridge.

In the middle of the rock is a fairly large patch of moss; that is something new, brought about by the recent extreme humidity and lack of sun. The branches of our Kousa dogwood tree are drooping lower than ever; even I, the vertically-challenged member of the family, need to duck under the branches when walking in the yard. It’s the thick dampness in the air that’s weighing down tree branches and plants. Canadian smoke hangs suspended in the atmosphere; it’s surreal.

We’ve been stuck in this weather pattern here in New York since mid-June. It’s oppressive. The unforgiving trifecta of summer – haze, heat and humidity with daily on again/off again rain – is relentless and leaves us feeling drained and on edge. Our clothes and bed covers are warm and damp. The AC helps, of course, but the wetness lingers, and makes everything now feel cold and damp. There’s no escaping it; even the birds hide in the shade of thick bushes. It’s eerily quiet and still outside.

It feels like I’m living in the middle of a Tennessee Williams play. I could really use a mint julep served in a hammered copper mug with generous amounts of bourbon and shaved ice.

NAR © 2023