Short Story Sunday: Fall Garden

Some of you might have read this extremely short story before, but read it again. It will get you into a good mood for October. I’ll try to have a new story soon. Things are just kind of weird these days and my brain is otherwise occupied.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Fall Garden

So I’m digging away, trying to put in some sort of flower beds in my rocky garden. It is foggy. It is cold. And I am not amused. That is what happens when you live in a house built on gold mine tailings. Rocks. Nothing but river rocks coated in a tiny bit of dirt and a shit load of weed seeds.

I’ve got the pick ax out, and I’m jamming the shovel in a hole, with the cold nose of a ninety pound German Shepard in my face, when I FINALLY get the last rock loose before I can plant a small dwarf lime tree. The dog goes nuts. I push her away and pull out the rock.

It isn’t a rock.

It is a skull.

A human skull.

Shit.

My son comes out with a fresh cup of coffee for me (did I mention it was cold.) He looked at the skull and then calls up to the house.

“Hey Dad, she found another one.” Then he turns to me. “This one is small. Man, woman, or child?”

I toss the skull in my garden gloved hands. “It might be a woman but you never know.”

“Want me to put it with the others?”

“Sure,” I said, handing the skull to my sweet teenager.

I could hear him in the side yard opening the 50 gallon Rubbermaid storage container, and dropping in the skull.

He came back to me after about a minute. “Hey Mom, the container is almost full.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s a lot of skulls.”

He gave me an uncomfortable look. “It sure is. Who do you think they are?”

I put my arm around his waist and gave him a hug. “I have no idea. But thanks for the coffee sweetie. Let’s go in. I think I’m done out here today.”

Short Story Sunday: Not Going Anywhere

The conversation was always the same, no matter who I talked to.

I’m not going anywhere.

I wasn’t going anywhere either. For one thing it was too hot. 102°F. I’d done all of my gardening. My husband was up working on something in his office. Maybe he was looking up Air BNB sites but I don’t know. It isn’t like we could really go anywhere. Even in Lassen Volcanic National Park the place we usually rent was unavailable this year. Besides that there are warnings about otter attacks.

With the advent of the heat even the Neighborhood sites where people complain about the homeless camps by the parks, lost pets, and reports of gunfire and illegal fireworks were uncommonly quiet. There wasn’t much today except someone looking for a handyman, and someone else wanting to know if anyone could recommend a new pizza place.

I was sitting at my breakfast nook table reading when I smelled something vile. We’d had problems with skunks this summer. The dog had been sprayed twice after we’d taken her out in the yard to pee, resulting in late night washings in the side yard. But skunks usually don’t come out at three in the afternoon.

I looked out the window into my yard. There they were in the garden stealing my tomatoes. One was picking through the squash plants. Damn it. I’d yelled at them before to keep out of my yard.

After slipping on my sandals I went out back.

“Hey, if you want tomatoes you’re going to have to work for it. You’re going to have to grow your own fucking garden.” I was harsh and swore but there is no being nice with these guys. “You see those tools over there,” I said. “Pick out some shovels and start digging.”

They stood watching me with the eyes of the stoned. I know for a fact they go up to National Forest and State Park land and steal pot plants from illegal growers.

“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Start digging and earn your keep or I’ll call the local news station and maybe the police. I know you don’t want that kind of attention.”

They looked sad and picked up the shovels. I went went inside and came back out with a big Costco sized bottle of shampoo, a big bottle of conditioner, a couple bars of oatmeal soap, and some old brushes and combs I’d found under the sink in the bathroom.

“Before you do anything you need to clean up. I’m going to choke if I have to smell your years of stench. How can you live with yourselves?” I yelled at them.

They picked up the hose and started to clean up.

After about thirty minutes I went back outside. They were drying off and most of the smell was gone.

One of them grumbled something about the local food bank.

“You can’t go to the food bank,” I told them. “They’d have you locked up. Keep digging. I’ll make you some sandwiches and heat up some tamales for you.”

Back before Covid-19 I only had to deal with deer, or maybe wild turkeys. This year nobody was going anywhere, including the tribe of Big Foots who’d camped out in my back yard.

I knew things were going to be strange this summer, but hey it could be worse. You know, it could be worse.

~ end

 

 

Tangled Tales

 

Growing Lilies to be Beautifully Normal

Years ago when I was just a tiny Vampire girl my mother told my brothers and I, “You do not like to embrace the sunshine or even like it. However, you do need to act as though you like it. One must fit into the world that is considered to be normal to succeed. You do not have to be what is called normal, you just need to give the appearance.”

Now more than a century later I have embraced the sunshine, not on my own skin, but in my yard. I grow daylilies.

This year they are doing spectacularly well. Enjoy. Wear your sunscreen. Wear your hat. Wash your hands. And never strive to be too normal.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

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Vampire musings on a cool sunny day.

About every few years someone calls my brother Aaron’s law office because someone wants to exhume them.

Let me back up a bit. Someone who is a Vampire wants Aaron’s help to prevent their empty grave from being dug up by well meaning family members (future generations) who feared their ancestor was murdered.

Luckily for us normal DNA testing won’t pick up that fact that someone is a Vampire. What it will do is make the Vampire with the empty grave become the closest relative.

I don’t know why I was even thinking about this today. When you’re a Vampire you need to think about these things. My advice is just to stay away from having a grave altogether if you must move on. Vampires just don’t have graves anymore. It makes things a whole lot easier.

Today I’ll be digging in my yard, not graves, but the spring garden. The annual explosion of flowers is also starting with tulips, daffodils, hyacinths, and bird of paradise flowers. The trees are also flowering. This flower explosion will continue through fall. This is not by chance, but a well planned effort. It is my well planned effort. I call it painting with flowers.

There are no bones in my yard, only river rocks and old roots. Sometimes the Ghosts Nigel and Mary will come out and visit with me while I work the dirt. The only thing I really have to worry about is the giant dog digging up everything. Thank goodness for tomato cages. All of the plants get tomato cages until they’re at full size.

From there I’ll clean off the decks with all of the mud and damage from the winter storms.

Sure, maybe Vampires should be living in crypts. It would be easy, but the quality of life is horrible. I can’t imagine anyone truly wanting to live that lifestyle.

So I’m off to dig under the trees, outside with the birds, and the dog, and whatever else comes my way before the next storm.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

Short Story Sunday: Fall Garden

I’m at Sacramento 2018 WordCamp this weekend. In fact I’m speaking today. But fall is in the air so is post-summer, pre-winter gardening. The following was first posted here a year ago. Hope this gets you into the festive falling leaves, pumpkin spice, and falling acorns kind of mood. I’ll see you next Sunday with Tangled Tales Short Story.

fallcolorleaves

Fall Garden

So I’m digging away, trying to put in some sort of flower beds in my rocky garden. It is foggy. It is cold. And I am not amused. That is what happens when you live in a house built on gold mine tailings. Rocks. Nothing but river rocks coated in a tiny bit of dirt and a shit load of weed seeds.

I’ve got the pick ax out, and I’m jamming the shovel in a hole, with the cold nose of a ninety pound German Shepard in my face, when I FINALLY get the last rock loose before I can plant a small dwarf lime tree. The dog goes nuts. I push her away and pull out the rock.

It isn’t a rock.

It is a skull.

A human skull.

Shit.

My son comes out with a fresh cup of coffee for me (did I mention it was cold.) He looked at the skull and then calls up to the house.

“Hey Dad, she found another one.” Then he turns to me. “This one is small. Man, woman, or child?”

I toss the skull in my garden gloved hands. “It might be a woman but you never know.”

“Want me to put it with the others?”

“Sure,” I said, handing the skull to my sweet teenager.

I could hear him in the side yard opening the 50 gallon Rubbermaid storage container, and dropping in the skull.

He came back to me after about a minute. “Hey Mom, the container is almost full.”

I took a deep breath. “That’s a lot of skulls.”

He gave me an uncomfortable look. “It sure is. Who do you think they are?”

I put my arm around his waist and gave him a hug. “I have no idea. But thanks for the coffee sweetie. Let’s go in. I think I’m done out here today.”

 

~ End

 

Summer Blooms

I garden. Daylilies. No it isn’t ironic. It just is what it is. I also grow roses and a lot of other blooming delights too. Cold heart, green thumb (bet you didn’t know that about Vampires.)

From my yard. Enjoy.

 

https://ceenphotography.com/2018/07/09/flower-of-the-day-july-10-2018-bearded-iris/

Thank you Cee for the wonderful photo prompt. I can’t wait to see what others are growing!

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman