Bluebells and Buttercups by Jan Darrow

It was the garden I noticed when I pulled up the drive.  Mia was in the back hunched over a plot of dirt. I beeped the horn before I got out because I didn’t want to ruin my shoes in the tilled-up soil.  She was covered in dirt and holding a bag of seeds when she came running toward me.  One look at the smile on her face and I knew something was wrong.

It had been three months since she had married the widow and moved, but I never guessed she was this far out in the country.  She was a high-rise condominium girl.  She liked the security of concrete.  And when it came to plants, she was strictly cut flowers.    But here she was, hugging me under the blue sky.

It had to be Harry, I thought to myself, after all, he’s the one who dragged her past the city limits.  Known for his floral work, he must have inspired her. But no…there was something different about her.  Something earthy.

  

We sat on the garden terrace looking out over the array of carved sculptures with a tray of cake and tea.  We talked about Harry and his lost dead wife.  Me with my fork and plate, and Mia with her dirty hands.  And Mia who was always stunning, never looked more radiant.

  

The sculptures in the garden were just as beautiful.  There was a woman, so life like, with long flowing hair made of lime green foliage lounging on the grass.  She was surrounded by lions with grassy manes.

   

Mia told me how Harry had changed her life.  Taught her to appreciate living things.

“I have a green thumb now,” she said casually after licking the cake from her lips.

But I found that hard to believe.

It was after 5 when I thought to leave, but Mia asked me to stay for dinner.  So, I agreed.  And it was in the kitchen that I saw green stems poking through the dirt on her hands sprouting into buttercups.  She quickly turned to the knife rack and sliced them off and put them in a vase filled with water.

“It’s always nice to have flowers on the table for dinner, don’t you think?” 

It startled me, but not as much as the bluebells that began to sprout from her head.  A crown of them.  And that’s when I thought it might be best to leave.  Besides, it didn’t look like she was going to wash before dinner.

At that point Harry walked through the front door.

“Yes, please stay,” he said pulling a long pair of shears from his briefcase and began trimming Mia’s bluebells.

Being as stunned as I was, I didn’t stay.

I called the next day but got no answer.  A few days later, I drove back to their house. Their front door was open, but no one was inside.  I trembled as I made my way around back, I looked out into the garden and noticed two women there now with long flowing hair lounging on the grass with the lions.  And to my horror, one was sprouting bluebells and buttercups. 

Jan Darrow is a poet from Michigan who connected with the natural world at an early age.  She has been published online and in print and finds abandoned places utterly beautiful.  You can see more of her work at jandarrow.blogspot.com