I adopted this dear little Faerie called Serendipity at Ophelia's Life

The Garden - a short story

The author at work!

“Aghh” came the deep gutted reply from my so called friend. Well, I know they’re not prize winning ‘bulbs’ but they are my first and I’m quite proud of them.

The saga behind her reaction to my beautiful blooms was to unfold itself over coffee.

Sometimes childhood memories are scatty and not clear, but her recollection was vivid as though it had only happened yesterday. Picture the scene, dad a botanist, mum cook extraordinaire, with gardens which won prizes annually. Younger brother (can’t say a lot here except he fits perfectly the stereotypical younger brother) and my friend, ever helpful, mum's little pride and joy.

Mum was busying herself with the evening meal, and had sent the pride and joy out to get a bunch of freshly picked onions hanging under the pergola. She had done this with great speed. Table was set and the beautiful aroma from the kitchen had family members salivating all over the house. The night was nothing special, everyone trying to say what had happened that day, and all stories being more important than everyone else’s. Comments were flying thick and fast. “What a wonderful meal”, “Tastes great”, “Your best ever”, mum took this with her usual quiet 'thankyou' but I think there was the faintest blush of red in her cheeks.

Dad rose from the table stacking plates on his way to the kitchen. “Why did you cut up my Hyacynth Bulbs” he asked in a puzzled voice as he stared at the remains. Silence fell over the dining room table, but only for a brief second. A cry was then to be heard that would have woken the dead. All eyes were on mother, her eyes were glazed and her face was drained of colour. She was trying to speak but the words just didn’t want to come, finally in a broken form of English the words came tumbling out. “Uhh, we’re all going to die”. Dad in his usual calm manner raced to the phone and called an expert to confirm his worst already well educated fears. Yes hyacynths are poisonous.

Salt water cocktails spilled over the kitchen benches, rotating bottoms up and heads down in the toilet were seen for the next three hours. Yes, they survived but you can guess what doesn’t grow in their garden anymore........

Later strolling through my garden, glancing at my beautiful blooms, I thought to myself out loud “well, maybe I won’t dig them up and put them in the fridge like the books tell me, I think I’ll just leave them there to take care of themselves".