The Gardener

By Simon Hole

The sun begins another slow climb through the August sky. It carries the promise of another scorching Saturday, but hasn’t yet managed to dry the dew from the garden.

Mitchell takes a break among the beans, his back to the sun, leaning on his hoe. The earth between the plants is dark and rich, broken only occasionally by the bright green of pigweed or crabgrass foolish enough to grow there. He scans the dirt, searching for any enemies he has missed. A smile spreads slowly across his face.

He steps backwards. The hoe resumes its rhythmic swing, banishing the unwelcome plants.