This is the beginning of a little children's story- tell me what you think!
In the golden field of grass, by the old red barn and the small white house with a red brick chimney, there stood a small enclosure fenced by metal wire and tended to diligently by a young gardener. In this enclosure the young gardener grew many vegetables of many sizes, and tended to a few tall, old fruit trees, mainly apples and peaches. So I suppose you could call this small enclosure a garden. In just a few months, it was to become a very badly-kept garden. However, you will see this misfortune in a completely different view...
"Tell us more, grandfather! Come on, tell the story! Pleeeeease? One time??" This was the incessant pleading heard all over Beezlebomm, as the small community of weeds- of all shapes, sizes, kinds- even smells- gathered for the annual town meeting and celebration. Each year, this small town of weeds gathered under the Great Green Glossy Apple Tree to celebrate their happy existence in the Great Garden of Bounty. (Or simply The Garden, as it was usually called.) "All in time, my dearies, all in time. You must learn patience in order to fully rejoice in this beauteous, plentiful garden... Now now, little one, don't fret, I will tell the wonderful story, but after we gather the whole town... it has not come upon the time..." said Grandfather. "Oh now, Eli, almost everyone's here..." piped up Grandmother while she comforted the flustered weed-child with broad, welcoming leaf hands. "Ah, yes, those two are the last... Yes, little ones, we are almost ready... Alright, everyone, let's get settled so Grandfather can tell the amazing story of how The Garden came about!"
"Skip, step, skip, step, skip, step, hop, JUMP!"
"Skip, step, skip..." Across half of The Garden, this was echoed from an exuberant little red weed, skipping along the various paths leading in and around The Garden. His 'Ma' had told him to collect some fresh red clay soil, but of course, he had much better things to do. Right now, it happened to be surveying The Garden and catching up on everything that was happening inside it. First he came upon two grown up weeds that were working on a large hunk of mulch, splitting it into pieces, grinding it into fine soil. Next he saw two more grown up weeds scooping the ground-up mulch into their broad, star shaped, dark-green leaves and carrying it to a tall, thick weed who was using his strong roots to turn the new soil into the existing soil.
Growing tired of this process, the little red weed skipped and jumped to another place of important work, a few strong woman-weeds who were carving a small stream through their special soil-making plain. This would add moisture to enrich the already root-watering soil!
"Hiya, Meena, how's the work coming?" blurted out the minute weed. "Oh, Reef, making the rounds again, hmmm? Well, the stream is coming along well... we're almost halfway done with it- and our pace is pretty fast!" the broad-branched weed said in a rough but pleasant voice, patting a few leaves to rid them of dirt. The Garden was filled with this soft language, a plethora of varying hums and chirps. "Meena, can you help me with this stone, please?" called a fellow weed working on a particular section of the partially-completed stream. "Alright, I'll be right there!" called Meena. "Reef, don't you have something to do?" she asked in a knowing tone. "Oh, yes, I sure do!" called Reef as he hopped away. Smiling, Meena figured that it wasn't the original task he was assigned... but a very important one!
Short story by Inchworm
Read 561 times
Written on 2007-03-30 at 18:13
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Weed Story
In a world in which perfect gardeners grow perfect plants, have perfect soil, and remove those unwanted, imperfect plants called weeds, this story is about one imperfect gardener who neglected all those perfect plants- and opened the door to a small world of weeds with minds of their own...literally...In the golden field of grass, by the old red barn and the small white house with a red brick chimney, there stood a small enclosure fenced by metal wire and tended to diligently by a young gardener. In this enclosure the young gardener grew many vegetables of many sizes, and tended to a few tall, old fruit trees, mainly apples and peaches. So I suppose you could call this small enclosure a garden. In just a few months, it was to become a very badly-kept garden. However, you will see this misfortune in a completely different view...
"Tell us more, grandfather! Come on, tell the story! Pleeeeease? One time??" This was the incessant pleading heard all over Beezlebomm, as the small community of weeds- of all shapes, sizes, kinds- even smells- gathered for the annual town meeting and celebration. Each year, this small town of weeds gathered under the Great Green Glossy Apple Tree to celebrate their happy existence in the Great Garden of Bounty. (Or simply The Garden, as it was usually called.) "All in time, my dearies, all in time. You must learn patience in order to fully rejoice in this beauteous, plentiful garden... Now now, little one, don't fret, I will tell the wonderful story, but after we gather the whole town... it has not come upon the time..." said Grandfather. "Oh now, Eli, almost everyone's here..." piped up Grandmother while she comforted the flustered weed-child with broad, welcoming leaf hands. "Ah, yes, those two are the last... Yes, little ones, we are almost ready... Alright, everyone, let's get settled so Grandfather can tell the amazing story of how The Garden came about!"
"Skip, step, skip, step, skip, step, hop, JUMP!"
"Skip, step, skip..." Across half of The Garden, this was echoed from an exuberant little red weed, skipping along the various paths leading in and around The Garden. His 'Ma' had told him to collect some fresh red clay soil, but of course, he had much better things to do. Right now, it happened to be surveying The Garden and catching up on everything that was happening inside it. First he came upon two grown up weeds that were working on a large hunk of mulch, splitting it into pieces, grinding it into fine soil. Next he saw two more grown up weeds scooping the ground-up mulch into their broad, star shaped, dark-green leaves and carrying it to a tall, thick weed who was using his strong roots to turn the new soil into the existing soil.
Growing tired of this process, the little red weed skipped and jumped to another place of important work, a few strong woman-weeds who were carving a small stream through their special soil-making plain. This would add moisture to enrich the already root-watering soil!
"Hiya, Meena, how's the work coming?" blurted out the minute weed. "Oh, Reef, making the rounds again, hmmm? Well, the stream is coming along well... we're almost halfway done with it- and our pace is pretty fast!" the broad-branched weed said in a rough but pleasant voice, patting a few leaves to rid them of dirt. The Garden was filled with this soft language, a plethora of varying hums and chirps. "Meena, can you help me with this stone, please?" called a fellow weed working on a particular section of the partially-completed stream. "Alright, I'll be right there!" called Meena. "Reef, don't you have something to do?" she asked in a knowing tone. "Oh, yes, I sure do!" called Reef as he hopped away. Smiling, Meena figured that it wasn't the original task he was assigned... but a very important one!
Short story by Inchworm
Read 561 times
Written on 2007-03-30 at 18:13
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
