The garden

in #garden6 years ago

Am I struggling for my voice, or have I found it? I ask myself this as the years go by...

lost-places-3362279_640.jpg

"Please don't put that there. I think I'm going to faint."
"Where should I put it then missus?"
"Put it in the sink."
"Eh."
"In the sink you silly little man; can't you hear me?"
"No need to get like that. I'm only doing my job."

The delivery man put the Gorgonzola cheese in the sink and as it fell in the cat jumped out, onto the old woman who was fast asleep on the floor still holding the pastry she had been kneading.

"I'm going now, missus," said the delivery man escaping through the back door.
"Good, good" said Miriam rummaging in a cupboard for the aspirin. She found them and went to the sink to fill a glass with water.
"What's the matter with everyone today?" she moaned.

Then she saw the cheese.

"Oh my God, I can't go near that, I'll have to go upstairs to the bathroom for water. I wish my father wouldn't have his work delivered to my nice home. He should find premises to make his cheese monkeys in. Danny! Leave the cat alone. Sarah, come down off that ladder now! Samuel can't you turn that record player down? My God I think I'm going mad."

Just then a knock came at the front door but in the panic and confusion it went unnoticed.

A few moments later it came again, louder and more insistent.
Miriam was halfway to the bathroom when she heard it in the quiet when the record was being changed by Samuel her eldest son.

"Now what?" she said angrily for her headache really was hurting.

She rushed to open the door and on the way she composed herself just in case it was somebody important.
On opening the heavy door that creaked from want of oiling, the visage of a stranger appeared.

Miriam was surprised by the man who was rather handsome in a rugged sort of way: black hair combed back from a tanned face, penetrating eyes of deepest blue stared at her from a face that had seen a war or two but had survived them and now portrayed an insight and depth that cut across to her very heart.

The man stood there almost humble yet with strength of being that exuded confidence. Miriam pushed her hair back quickly trying to tidy herself up a bit. She took off her apron and felt self-conscious of the blackberry stains that had soaked through onto her dress.

He smiled, "I'm sorry to bother you but I seem to have lost my son and I wondered if maybe he might have wandered into your garden," he said in a deep voice.

"What!" said Miriam trying to make sense of what the man was saying? "You've lost your son in my garden."

"Well not exactly, it’s just that he wanders off a lot, exploring, copies me, you see, and as your garden is so wild and over-grown he may have thought it a good place to explore."

"How old is he?"

"He must be seven by now," said the man.

Miriam thought of her garden: a hundred feet by forty, untouched since she moved in five years ago, full of apple trees, two oaks, bushes; a jungle by now.

I've never had time to get out there and do anything to it. John the gardener used to cut the grass at first, but then his business took off and he had to spend all his time doing that. Then my mother came to stay and she needs so much and she doesn't remember who she is any more, as likely to wander off as do something sane, yes, the garden is a good place for a child to get lost in. I wonder how many other lost children are there playing at being explorers.

"Lady, Lady," said the man.

Miriam came back to reality standing on the doorstep with a man who'd lost his child.

"What, she said gathering her wayward thoughts.

"You looked so far away." he said.

"I was just thinking of my garden."

"I don't want to be a bother, but could I perhaps have a look, just to see if he's in there or not."

"Of course you can, come on," said Miriam marching through the house to the garden. The man followed leaving the front door ajar.

Miriam breezed through the kitchen and threw open the back door. Foliage all green and tangled met her gaze.

"It looks impenetrable," said the man at her shoulder.

"It's all yours," said Miriam turning to face the man who was standing very close. Suddenly Miriam's breath was coming in short gasps, her eyes were big and her thoughts were as jumbled as the garden.

Just then, Tristan, three years old and laughing came around the corner with Brian the sheep dog who was laughing too, or so it seemed to look at him. They didn't stop but ran into the kitchen through the open door between Miriam and the man.

"Wipe your feet." said Miriam too quiet to be heard by anyone but her and the stranger who had her captivated.

Samuel's loud music filled the background. Sarah and Danny chased each around the kitchen table. The grandmother snored by the sink.

"A full house you have here," said the man.

Miriam felt dreamy, her headache forgotten.

"This house is always full," she said.

"I've just moved in next door," he said.

"Poor you," she whispered.

"Yes, well, perhaps I could go into your garden if it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all. Well, there it is; may you venture well."

The man looked over Miriam's shoulder at the garden.

"You wouldn't have a map, would you?" he said.

"After you get past the first apple tree fork right to the stream, follow that to the oak tree and you'll be about halfway, from there on its uncharted territory. If you make it back by this evening I'll make you a cup of tea. Good luck," she said and moved so that the man could pass.

The man walked past Miriam through the door to the weed infested courtyard and stopped.
Before him was the most impenetrable jungle of plant life he had ever seen, it rose above his head: brambles, creepers, bushes, and all intertwined and impossible to surpass. ‘Maybe I should have brought some provisions,’ he thought to himself, ‘and a machete.'

"Tom, Tom, are you there?" he shouted. From somewhere in the undergrowth a rustling was heard which came nearer and nearer.

"Is that you, Tom?”

From a hole at the base of the jungle a big fat scruffy cat emerged and stopped.

"Hello," said the man. "I thought you were my son."

The cat walked past the man into the kitchen with a look of disdain on its face as if to say: how could you possibly mistake me for anything but what I am. Do I look as if I have arms and legs and wear clothes and run about the place shouting and screaming? So undignified.

The man went back to surveying the garden but after a few minutes he could see that there was no way in from that end of it. Walking into the kitchen he wondered at the sudden quiet.

"I've banished them to the back room," said Miriam sitting at the table.

"And your mother?"

"My mother, oh she wandered off somewhere."

"Not on my account I hope," he said stopping by the table.

"I thought you'd be back soon. I've made a cup of tea. Sugar?"

"Honey if you've got it please, otherwise, no."

"No to the tea or the sugar?"

"Sugar," he said pulling out a chair.

"So you've only just moved in," said Miriam.

"Yes, this morning."

"And you've lost your son already."

"No not exactly lost, just misplaced. He'll be back later; it's just that I wanted to get some food into him before I settled down to work."

"Working, on your first day? I'd have thought you would want to sort the house out, move furniture, etc."

"Already done."

"Impossible."

"Really, I don't have many things."

"But what about carpets, curtains, kitchen things, and beds?"

"I had some people fit them last week."

"It all sounds so painless. I'd be in turmoil."

"There's just me and Tom. We've moved so many times we've not been able to keep many possessions. It's easier to travel light you see."

"You must be a traveller," said Miriam eyeing the man closely.

"It's my job that makes me move so much."

"Travelling salesman?"

"I'm a writer for a holiday company. I explore new places to holiday and then write them up."

"There's not much in this little village to write about. Is there?"

"Maybe not, but I didn't move here for a holiday, I moved to get away from it all, have a base to come back to, and there's Tom, he needs a home. It's not fair on him to be living out of a suitcase from one hotel to another."

"What about his mother. Couldn't she look after him?"

"She ran off with another man; can't blame her really, for that, not much of a life for her with me off for months on end. She wrote a letter and left it for me to find, it said a lot of things; she thought Tom would be better off with me."

"Let me make you a fresh cup of tea."

Miriam got up and switched the electric kettle on.

"You haven't told me your name," she said.

"Rumi," he said.

"That's a nice name."

"Really?"

"You sound English."

"I was born and spent my first thirteen years in England. My parents died in a fishing boat accident so I went to live with my aunt in California and after school I just got a job and moved around a lot"

"It must have been difficult," said Miriam with a little shiver.

"You can get used to anything after a while. So what's your name and what do you do?"

I'm Miriam and I don't do much as they do me."

"Pardon."

"The kids; they're such a handful."

"What about Mr.?"

"He ran off a few years ago with a young bimbo from England."

"So you're on your own?"

"I wouldn't say that, what with four kids and my parents, a dog, a cat, a budgie, three mice, seven rabbits. No I wouldn't say I'm on my own."

"No wonder the garden's overgrown. You must spend all your time at the stove feeding them all."

"It certainly feels like it."

"Tell you what, I'll help you with the garden if you like."

"Would you, it could certainly do with a man's touch."

"I'm no gardener you understand, but I'll have a go at chopping it down. I could do with some exercise."

"You don't look as if you need exercise.

"Well I do keep myself pretty fit but I've let myself go these last couple of weeks, what with the moving and trying to write this story that I'm doing."

"I thought you were a travel writer, non-fiction, and facts."

"There's a bit more to it than that. I have to make it palatable."

"You mean embellish it," said Miriam with a smile in her eyes.

"Sort of."

"Could I see it when you've finished it?"

"Of course, I'll bring it tomorrow when I come to do the garden."

"It's almost finished then?"

"Almost."

"Does it have a title?"

"Found in the jungle,"

"How appropriate to my garden."

"Yes isn't it. Look, I have to go now, I must find my son and get some food down him and finish my work."

Rumi pushed the chair back and got up. Miriam did too.

"See you tomorrow then," she said.

"Right then, tomorrow it is."

After Rumi had gone, Miriam went out to the garden.

She looked at it and shook her head then walked to one corner of the house where the garden was cut back slightly.
A stone well was in the clearing. It was the only part of the garden that Miriam kept clear. She sat on the well and looked into its depths. After a while she took out an old silver coin she had been saving and threw it into the well.

Morning came eventually as it has a way of doing, it could not be hushed: children shouted, somewhere a cock crowed, and birds of course let everyone know they were there.

The expected knock at the door was answered with a smiling face that welcomed in Rumi and his son who took after his father in so many ways.

"You found your son then," said Miriam.

"Yes, he came back after he'd had enough exploring."

"Where had he got to?" asked Miriam.

"He'd been in your garden as I'd thought, but farther down, near the river."

"There's a boat there," said the man's son.

"Really," said Miriam.

"It's in a house on stilts over the river," he said excitedly.

"Come on then," said Rumi. "Let's see if we can make a path to the river."

The day had made an early morning promise to be good and sunny and it kept its word and was obvious about it to everyone's satisfaction.

All through the day the man worked cutting into the jungle garden. At first he left his shirt on, but as the day heated up he took it off.

Orange juice and sandwiches fed everyone's ravenous rumbles as they all worked hard one way or another to chop into the overgrowth. Around tea time the man gave up.

"It's beaten me for today," he said to Miriam. "But tomorrow I'm going to use a chainsaw on it and then we'll see how tough it is."

All day it had been chopped into and only an eighth of the way had surrendered to the mighty efforts expended against it by the man and his helpers.

"Not to worry." said Miriam. "It has had its own way for a long time and I expect it won't give up without a struggle.

By the way I read your story and I think it's very good, and funny, I enjoyed reading it."

"I'm thinking of giving it up." said Rumi.

"Oh no, don't do that, you're very good at writing. There's not many can do it and it would be a shame not to share your insight and humour."

"It's only travel tales and I'm getting fed up with writing them to be honest."

"Why don't you write a novel then? I'm sure you could write a really good one. I'd buy it," said Miriam quietly.

"Thanks for saying that. It's nice when someone appreciates you."

"I'm glad you turned up actually, the kids seem to have taken a liking to you. I've never seen them pull together as they have today. I feel happy to have you here too," said Miriam shyly and blushing slightly.

This didn't go unnoticed by Rumi who fancied her for she was an attractive woman and fun to be with, also one other ingredient was tugging at him but he wasn't quite ready yet to admit it to himself much less to Miriam who already knew and felt the same way. The evening passed pleasantly as Miriam and Rumi talked, and the kids for once quietly played games nearby.

Much later again, after the children had been put to bed Rumi brought round a bottle of wine. Miriam and Rumi talked late into the night and the wine kept them company. The next day they made it to the boating shed.
And what happened then is anyone’s guess.

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Lovely story. I would add some cute illustrations and publish it on kindle as a children’s little book - just make the end pg13 😉

It's an idea; what is page 13

PG 13. I meant for children’s ears. No romantic stuff. 😉

Okay; what kind of age group do you suggest?

Young children, you can tailor the story a little bit, towards the idea of family.

I'll think about it

Loved the story - there is something about an over grown garden that makes one feel that there are mysteries to be discovered -why not do a follow up?

I'll see how I feel

Beautiful story

Glad you like it

Wow. Great photo. Very green.

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Thank you for your comment

Your talent for writing never ceases to amaze me @wales! You truly are gifted in written expression! And I see you have met my mom ;)

Thanks jaynie; I guess it's a small world

You work very hard for this article.
Amazing article my dear friend..
This house is hidden between the trees..

I always work hard, but it doesn't pay much

You are welcome friend..
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Wonderful story! I am amazed! It just brought me back to my childhood! My grand grandfather had a house with a garden I loved to explore! It also had a well and it was really close to the river... Thank you so much for sharing this ♡

I'm pleased that you liked it

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Thanks awfully

This cries out for a follow-up! I enjoy the story immensely...

Maybe, we'll see

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