Chapter 12
By morning, it was raining again. Loud thuds of water beat upon my roof, and the overflow poured from the congested eaves troughs outside my bedroom window. I visualized the quagmires forming in the flowerbeds below, deep ruts that would require extra attention to save my rhododendrons from rotting, or slumping over instead of blooming to their natural elegance. It was extra work that I didn’t mind. I liked the feel of dirt under my fingernails.
My mother had enjoyed getting her hands dirty as well. Agnostine seemed content, kneeling upon an old piece of carpet, her sleeves rolled past her wrists, her dry black hair sticking out from under that ugly straw hat that shielded her leathery face from the sun. Maybe gardening was my mother’s only true escape. Drunk or sober, she pla
