It Happens

No, the Rodells owned this land on paper, nothing more.

Of course, that really didn’t answer the question about the garden. I blew absently at a strand of hair that drifted in front of my eyes and walked back to where I’d stood in front of the picketed gate. I considered it for a long moment and then sat down on the hard packed earth. I poured a small measure of the tea into the dirt in front of me.

It soaked it up greedily despite the rains, so I added another measured dose until the earth itself was damp enough to shape. I used my finger to draw a reasonable facsimile of the garden in front of me. I twisted and turned to pour a small circle of the tea around me.

I didn’t think I actually needed a circle for this, but it made me feel a bit better to be working from within the confines of one. It’s an old method, but sometimes the old methods are the best. I swallowed a deep drink of the tea and then swiped my hand across the sweat on my face, leaving traces of the dirt on my cheeks and forehead.

The smudges were good, as far as I was concerned. I wanted to meld into the earth and come at the problem from an entirely different angle. I set the tea mug down next to me and focused my attention on my garden drawing in the dirt. I committed the drawing to memory and closed my eyes. Yes, I could envision the layout perfectly.

A sensation shivered through me. My eyes jerked open, only what I saw wasn’t the uneven, uncared for garden that desperately needed tending. The trees along the perimeter had changed from rustic oranges and reds to lush green. I frowned. Slowly, my eyes traveled to the area directly in front of me. Several men stood together in a circle.

They were singing.