Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

October 22, 2019, 02:18:47 PM
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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Garden  (Read 14 times)
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« on: October 12, 2019, 12:10:10 PM »

   Walking through the screen door, down the old steps with the chipping blue paint, and across the yard on the dirt path surrounded by large rocks to guide you to the gardens; I watch the wind make the maple leaves flutter symphonically. And thereís Dad, in his old ragged blue sweater with the white paint stains, weeding or something in the vegetable garden. Heís always up to something on these Saturday mornings, when all I want to do is watch cartoons and eat sugary cereal, or take a quest down to the creek, or play soccer across the street. Dadís eyes are always looking around for something that needs to be fixed.
   He calls me in and I open the gate which he assembled long ago and has red paint to try to cover the rust. I walk through the columns of seedlings, all marked with little plastic labels sticking out of the ground with pictures of broccoli and peppers and eggplants and zucchini. Dad is standing by the compost, a big metal barrel that smells rotten. He asks me to go grab some tools out of the garage, trying to mend some patch in the fence that is letting critters in. I donít know which tools heís talking about, but I go to the garage anyway and grab all the tools I can handle. Itís a level of uncertainty Iím getting used to.
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