The Whisky Blot
Journal of Literature, Poetry, and Haiku
After he died, she had no interest in taking care of her husband’s prized garden. The neighbors would always comment on the enviable beauty of the grounds, perfected by many years of his obsessive and careful tending. But she hated yard work in the hot sun, disliked mosquitos and the scent of insect repellent. The smell of sweat and potting soil on her husband made her sick. And most of all, she detested the fact that work in the yard is never done. Each season has its own set of critical tasks. There are always sticks to pick up, leaves to rake, grass to mow, weeds to pull, watering, fertilizing and spraying pesticides. Year round, her husband spent most of his free time out there. So, you might wonder why she is working in the yard today. The neighbors certainly do, as they look through their windows. They are horrified when she rips out all the foliage from the garden and throws it in the street. They watch her place pavers in patterns for a winding walkway and pour bags of colored gravel between the arcs of stones. The neighbors observe with dismay as she places large pots of artificial plants on the gravel along the garden path. They hesitate to ask her about it, but sense that something is terribly wrong. Something more than a simple dislike of gardening. William Ogden Haynes is a poet and author of short fiction from Alabama who was born in Michigan. He has published ten collections of poetry and one book of short stories all available on Amazon.com. Over two hundred and thirty of his poems and short stories have appeared in literary journals and his work is frequently anthologized. http://www.williamogdenhaynes.com. Comments are closed.
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