This week I managed to catch the last few rays of sunlight in the garden. Oakleigh’s garden, though generally filled to bursting with a plethora of delicious fruits and vegetables, was considerably lackluster yesterday. I did manage to find a few bright spots in the weeds. Some blooming rosemary and chard stalks brought color to the nearly empty garden beds.
I wandered through the tall clovers and sour grass to find the beginnings of what could be a plentiful harvest. Cultivators of the summertime cornucopia had just planted a few beds, root plants mainly. Carrots and beets and several other seemingly dyed plants that, though relatively plain and simple above ground, radiate deep reds, purples and oranges below. As I came to walk out of the garden, I saw a lemon tree standing alone and looking unkempt and sort of grubby. It shamefully sat in the sunset with sparse leaves, repulsing the otherwise beautiful scenery. I took several steps closer, and upon further inspection, I saw the comely shape of an unripe lemon. Here I looked at the potential deliciously sour treat that would be ready in a few weeks time and thought to myself, “Maybe this tree isn’t quite so ugly as I thought”, and I went on my way.
Now sitting at home writing, I remember not this recent garden excursion, but one from several weeks ago. I was tasked with taking care of Phoebe, a young Greek Tortoise owned by my Biology teacher, over the weekend. I thought it would be a great idea to take her out to the garden and the lawn situated beside it so she could get some sun, and both she and I could have a grand old time. I placed her down in a bed of clovers and watched as she made her way through the plants, nearly hidden by the three leaves of each stalk. Phoebe managed to carve out a tortoise highway with her shell as she flattened each clover and crawled to a dandelion so she could munch on its leaves.
As I stood by with tortoise at hand, I looked to the other side of the Garden, and lo and behold, what did I see? Henry, another resident of Oakleigh, playing with his brother. I called over, and told him there was someone who wanted to meet him. He’s five, by the way. He ran over and instantly cast his gaze upon Phoebe’s beautiful shell. Henry became so excited and elated when he picked her up and felt her little claws moving across his hands. When he was called back to his house, he was sad to say goodbye, but I told him he could come over and play with Phoebe the next day, and he smiled and walked home.
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