A Place to Eat Berries
or
Eidelweiss
February is a terrible month, most places.
In the north it is a vicious and unrelenting month of battle when even the sun struggles to stay warm. We need places of rest, warm blood abhors the chill endless gray of winter.
He crouched unseen in the garden, near the cabin but far enough away to be separate. He watched her coming up to the cabin, shuffling along with a disheveled look, he chuckled when he saw the smell hit her.
He was used to it.
The garden planted so long ago wasn't as well tended as it used to be but he still found the strawberries where they held back the encroaching wilderness. The beds were all but gone, but what remained, produced the finest strawberries you could imagine. They were not the water rich, but bland berries of the market, they were something different.
The red hue hadn't appeared on some, he left those, to gather in the sun as they could. He searched for and found those that were scarlet with the effort of their growing, red for life. |
