Elijah
Mother texts at 7.30am.
Mother; Tea in the Greenhouse. Ten minutes if you can. There's no subject line, no agenda and she knows I'll come.
The greenhouse behind the packhouse is warm without being heavy. Trays of seedlings line the benches, labels are written in her tidy hand. She's already at the small table by the door with a pot, two cups, and a plate of sliced apples because she thinks better when people eat.
"Morning," she says.
"Morning," I answer, and sit where she's placed a cup.
She pours, then looks at me the way she does when she's measuring the room. "I want to talk about what kind of wolves we are," she says. "Wolves like us keep the ground steady, we build alliances. We don't shock the people who depend on us."
'She's starting with a frame,' Loki
