Most gardens grow. This one shrank.
When Nell Hawthorne died, neighbors descended on her property with hand trowels and loppers. They knelt in the milky moonlight and dug out oregano, cilantro, and basil by the fistful. They shooed squirrels away from ripe heirloom tomatoes and tender strawberries.
If the pockmarked landscape stung Robbie Hawthorne as he arrived at his mother’s, he didn’t show it. Instead, he thanked each neighbor sincerely for taking a portion of Nell’s abundant harvest as he clutched her will: To my dear neighbors and friends: bring my garden to your homes and let my treasure become yours.
Loved the ending. Nicely done!
Thanks for reading, Bud!
Very sweet. I liked it!
Appreciate it, Faith!
Like the last line in particular. As a gardener Will resonate.
Glad this resonates. I was inspired by my little garden plot, too!
So much real life.
Thanks for reading, Ranabrata.
What a lovely story of kindness, growth and hope coming through loss.
Thanks, Moya 🙂
How skillfully you choreograph language, Laura! You’ve demonstrated one of the rules of fiction: show, don’t tell!
You revealed so much about the character, her philosophy of life! Very impactful!
What a skillful way to demonstrate the joy of legacy giving and receiving, Laura!
Thanks for this beautiful story!
Nicely done Laura… Gardens are life!