Snowdrops and Snapdragons {Charity}
May 9, 2012 20:48:13 GMT -5
Post by kneedles on May 9, 2012 20:48:13 GMT -5
[/justify][/color][/font][/size]Scutcher was pretty sure that it was going to be a relentless summer. All of the piglets had been born; eating their way through as much as they could find now, getting bigger all of the time, the heat doing nothing to slow them down as they gambolled in the mud around the pig farm. The rent was due, all of the new quotas were in and Scutcher divided his time between the farm and hunched over his pens and papers, eyes getting smaller and smaller as he tried to stretch the numbers are far as he could. And, best of all, the garden was in full bloom.
An artist wouldn’t have enough paint to fill in all of the colour and detail of this little paradise nestled within the trees; snapdragons sprang forth in purple, yellow tipped buttercups swayed on thin stalks and lavender filled the air with sweetness. Each of the vegetable plants had erupted from the earth with the broadest green lives, as vines and thin, weak thorns coiled upwards towards the sky from blackberry and raspberry plants. The sense of accomplishment would have been overwhelming, if not for the endless chores that still had to be conducted to maintain the garden and to keep it from overgrowing into wilderness. The list just seemed to keep on growing, especially since he was still running the pig farm pretty much single handed. It was only the fact that he had help in the garden that he didn’t simply end up despairing taking on the task at all.
It was hard not to think about Noreen and getting harder every day, especially in the garden. To Scutcher, she’d been quietly unfurling like a flower herself just like a single crocus in an old cider bottle that Scutcher might grow on his window sill. Fragile but beautiful, inspiring a strange kind of protective instinct observed from afar- the kind that Scutcher normally reserved for pigs, if that could be considered a compliment (though of course to Scutcher it very much could). Over the summer, Noreen blossomed without much fanfare, gradually but unmistakably all the same twining roots through his head, digging in deep and pulling tightly. Spade stuck firmly into the ground, his head resting against it as he lay on the floor and a list of calculations above his head to shield him from the thin beams of light that spread down through the trees ,Scutcher tried forcing himself into a light sleep. Though he was exhausted, somehow, even in the still quiet of the woods he couldn’t quite manage it.
A full nights rest felt like a dim memory now, it was always up at dawn , late to bed or else Scutcher’s dad would wake him with a globule of saliva aimed straight at his face or a clip to the head punctuated by the bark, “Get out there and quiet them fucking pigs or I’ll thrash your hide so bad you can’t lie down for a week.” Sometimes he’d blink, just for a second and find himself awake an hour or so later, head resting on his chin. Somehow now though, he couldn’t sleep for the thoughts of Noreen skipping through his mind. Especially her smile.
He never saw her smile that much at school, not when Jack wasn’t around, which made the idea of drawing one out of her all the more appealing; if it was hard work then Scutcher would feel better having earned it. He thought of ways to make her laugh all of the time, though he didn’t know any jokes and hardly possessed any of the natural wit or charm so usually those ideas lead to nothing. Maybe it should have tortured him, not being able to make her laugh the way that Jack could, not having her look at him the way that she did to Jack- but it didn’t really. It was akin to the way that Scutcher liked to watch the swallows in the summer, diving into the earth and swirling through the sky; it would be nice to fly like them, go wherever they went in the winter, but Scutcher belonged on the earth and watching them was good enough, not just for now, but for as long as they stayed before migrating again.
Threading his fingers through a small patch of snowdrops besides the patch of bare earth he was lying on, Scutcher felt them delicate beneath his fingers and let his eyes flicker closed. Even when he couldn’t see the garden he was aware of it; of the smell and the sounds of fat round bumblebees’ wings fluttering nineteen to the dozen. It was as though, even when he wasn’t in it, he could keep the feeling of being in the garden with him- all through school, all through his work on the farm and that was always going to be a feeling of comfort and of joy. Not having all that much happiness in his life previously, all of this goodness was vaguely intoxicating, like trying your very first few sips of alcohol, made his head spin and his heart beat just that little bit faster, throb that little bit harder in his chest.