Chapter 17
Cynthia put me to work in the garden, hoping the lessons would seep in, take root, and bloom through the soil, water, and sun. It was different in the garden now that the war was over and victory gardens were forgotten until the next world war required them again. There were no more nosy neighbors concerning themselves with what we planted, and we were left to sow our own seeds.
Before, when I helped Cynthia in the garden, I did it for the wrong reasons. I gardened flowers because I wanted to prove I could. I didn’t like the work. I looked at gardening as a dirty, muddy chore I had to endure in order to achieve the fragrant blooms I wanted to see in the spring. I covered myself in a hat, gloves, apron, and boots so no offensive dirt would get under my nails or onto my clothes.
