Other gardeners would have set up traps, but I figured there were plenty of raspberries to share.
Now and then, I would even catch a glimpse of that cute little mouse who would scurry through the strawberry patch, over to low lying raspberries, and nibble away. The birds and mice would have bite marks out of some of the berries. I used to come out here, sit on my bench, and watch the raspberries ripen while I worked alone. Now, we are all watching the raspberries ripen as we work. The girls are helping tie up the tomato plants. The boys are moving dirt and bringing in hay bales. Some of the little ones love my garden, and others are trying to find something else to make them look busy. They make their kids work in the garden with us. They did not like chores, so my garden was the only thing that was mine. When they would follow me to the garden, I put them to work. It was my garden that gave me the space I needed to be alone – to think, to pray, and to fill up after having used every bit of myself to care for four children. My kids would follow me to the bathroom, talk to me while I was on the phone, and tattle on each other while I was in the shower. I had decided that to be true long ago when my kids were little, and my garden was the only safe place I had. I smile at my daughter’s observation, “Yes. “Mom, I swear those raspberries are ripening as we speak!” I am here, on this beautiful summer day, tending the garden with my kids and grand kids. Most of my friends are in a nursing home. It is my gym as I stay fit, even at my age, to continue gardening at all. It is my church, as I worship Christ through His creation.
Rewrite the same story in the person you didn’t use yet. Change between what an old woman is doing now and what she is thinking about the past. Le Guin, Exercise Six Version One:Ĭhoose either first or third person.
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