Friday, July 5, 2013

#29 What Will Be Will Be






            Ned and Claire biked home in the dark after the day of garden planting with Topping, Charlotte, Bartholomew and Aunt Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey.  Ned didn't like biking in the dark; he found it hard to see potholes and objects that might be in the way.  He worried about having an accident.  Claire, on the other hand, didn't worry about anything.  Being on a bike was like breathing.  She biked everywhere.  This was partly because she did not own a car, but she used that as an excuse.  She really enjoyed biking.  It made her feel good about her body and about her planet.  She also felt that it brought her more in touch with her neighborhood, because she saw more of it when biking.  As Ned worried more and more about running into things, he fell behind. Then he felt like he had to catch up.  He was torn between wanting to do something with Claire, and yet wanting to go at his own pace.  He felt resentments about being led into these situations by Claire's confidence.  In fact, Claire's general confidence in all things made Ned a bit uncomfortable.

            They arrived home and carried their bikes up the three flights of stairs to the apartment and parked them in the living room.  Ned collapsed on a worn out couch while Claire headed to the kitchen for a drink of water.  Although they had just biked five miles, their stomachs were full from the large meal that Aunt Josephine had made for the gardeners.  Claire came back out to the living room with a glass of water in her hand.  Ned wondered why she didn't offer to get him a glass of water, too.  Claire collapsed in a stuffed chair that wasn't stuffed enough.  “Ow,” she said as a spring poked her butt.


            “Can't we get a new chair?  This one is horrible,” she commented.

            Ned sighed.

            “What's up with you?” asked Claire.

            “What do you mean?” responded Ned.

            “You were quiet all day at the garden and Bartholomew's.  You were crabby about where you were planting things and quiet the whole way home.  And now you aren't answering my question.  So, what's up?”

            “Nothing's up.  I just don't feel like talking.”

            “You spend the whole day with your partner and your friends and you don't feel like talking?  That's just weird.”

            “My partner? What does that mean?” asked Ned, never having heard Claire use that term before.

            “Uh, we've been living together for almost five months.  At this point, it's not like I'm just a girlfriend.”

            Ned wasn't sure what the difference would be between a girlfriend and a partner.  “So, you’re my partner?  Like a business partner?  Like, you help me pay the rent and buy groceries and things like that?  Cuz, last I checked, you still don't have a job.  At this point, it's not like this is much of a partnership.”

            Claire's heart winced but her anger did not.  “What?  You think of this as a business partnership?  I didn't know there were conditions on me being here.  Is that what you want?”  Ned did not respond so Claire continued.  “No, I don't have a job.  But it’s not like I haven't taken care of things around here.  It's not like I don't contribute.  I clean the apartment and I cook and fix things.  And I have paid for some things.”

            “Look, I'm tired,” said Ned, “let's forget I said anything.”

            Claire moved over to the couch.  “I can't forget something like that.  Is that why you've been quiet all day?  You’re mad that I don't contribute around here?”

            “It's not that you don't contribute, it's just that I needed a roommate to help cover the rent and here you are costing me more money.  I'm dipping into my savings to float us here.  I'm trying to save my money for other things.”

            “Like what?” demanded Claire.

            “Well, I've always tried to save enough money to cover four months worth of bills.  That way I have a nest egg and if anything happens, like I lose my job, or I get sick or something, I have a cushion.  It's the prudent thing to do.”

            “What?  You're saving money in order to save money?  Being prudent is more important than our relationship?” asked Claire as tears came to her eyes.

            “It's not that its more important...,” began Ned.  He stopped.  His mind raced back across time.  He revisited all the times he felt that Claire was being unfair or demanding.  He thought about how embarrassed he was when she was kicked out of the Earth Day Celebration and when she broke down at the spoken word event.  He thought about how she kept expressing her opinion even when she knew it would be uncomfortable for him.  He often had thought that Claire relied more on her gross-emotional skills than her fine-emotional skills.  In a word, she was blunt – blunt as a stub.  This even carried over to their love-making.  Every time they made love,  Claire needed it to be at a certain emotional pitch.  She didn't have a sense of lingering, of spooning for hours or of having fun while being intimate.  She seemed to have no imagination.  It had to always be the same game, the same roles and then done.

            As Claire waited for Ned to finish his sentence, she thought about all the times that Ned didn't keep up with her.  This wasn't just with biking.  Ned couldn't keep up in conversation, in understanding the motives behind political situations, in expressing what he wanted for food – or anything.  Ned always seemed to be lagging, which in Claire's mind meant lacking.  He often seemed distant, unsure and, in general, incapable.  This even carried over to their love-making.  Every time they had sex, Ned never seemed satisfied.  He was always wanting to try something new, something different.  He never seemed contented to just make love to her – to simply enjoy Claire as a partner.  It was as if he needed something more to excite him.

            Ned, finally continued, “...it is important.  It actually is important to have money in the bank.  Is it more important than our relationship?  No, I don't think so, but if I had a choice between having a relationship that is penniless and the same relationship with money in the bank, I would take the relationship with money—some security.  Plus, we will have to move if you don't start paying for your half of the bills.”

            “I just couldn't imagine that you were this greedy,” said Claire.  “Maybe if you would share what you’re thinking and feeling once in awhile I might have seen this coming.”

            Ned glared at her.  Claire could tell that she had stepped over a line, and she took a morsel of pleasure in this.  

            “Why share myself?” replied Ned.  “Every time I do you don't like it.  I say something and you jump all over it or you start to question me.  Why can't you just let people be themselves?  Like Mayor Dick.  Why do you get so caught up with whatever the hell Mayor Dick is doing?”



            “Because he's a...a...fucking idiot!” said Claire.  “He's ruining everything by being so stupid and pigheaded.  People like him will ruin the entire planet if they’re allowed to keep doing what they're doing!”

            “Oh, OK, here we go!  Yes, the whole big planet-is-dying thing  And you are the only person who really cares.”

            “Oh my god,” said Claire.  “I can't believe what I'm hearing.  You mean you don't see that the planet is dying?  Were you ever going to tell me this or just keep going to Earth Day Celebrations with me?  Maybe I was right at Topping and Charlotte's New Year's Eve party – maybe you are a Capitalist Nazi.  After all, you treasure your money more than our relationship.”

            Like two dead goldfish caught in the spinning whirlpool of a toilet, these two weren't going to stop until they were stuck in deep shit.

            “I am not a Capitalist Nazi!  I don't like money more than people, I just want to be thoughtful about my money.  I want to have money so I am not dependent on others.”

            “But we are all dependent on each other.  Don't you get it?  Everything we do affects the environment and other people.  You can't make and spend your money in a vacuum.  To think you do is a lie.”

            “Yes, I guess I'm in denial,” Ned said sarcastically.  “I'm in denial about the state of the planet, about money and about myself.  After only five months you know me better than myself.  Yes, you are the great all-seeing Claire.”

            “Shut the fuck up!” said Claire, throwing a chair pillow at Ned.

            “Oh, now don't start oppressing the masses with pillows,” taunted Ned.

            Claire moved quickly and swatted at Ned with another pillow.  Ned blocked it.

            “Shut up, you moron,” said Claire as she kept swatting at Ned.

            “Yes, sometimes it does seem like I'm a moron in your eyes,” said Ned as he parried a swat with his own pillow.

            Claire hesitated and then swatted one more time, catching Ned in the face.   Ned became enraged and popped off the sofa and on top of Claire, who toppled over backward into the stuffed chair.

            “Get off of me!” Claire screamed.

            “Not until you apologize,” said Ned pushing down on her.

             “For what?” Claire asked indignantly.

            “For hitting me in the face, for thinking I'm a moron and for not letting me be me.”

            “What the fuck?” said Claire.  “You are a moron.”

            Ned pushed down harder. 

            “Ow, alright!  I'm sorry for hitting you in the face.”

            “And?”

            “...and for calling you a moron.”

            “And?”

            “C'mon, Ned,” said Claire, “if you don't feel like you can be yourself, that's not my problem.  Assert yourself!”

            “Like this?” Ned said as he pushed down harder.

            “No, you...”  Claire caught herself,  “...not like that.  TALK TO ME!  Let me know what you're thinking. Don't be so quiet all the time!”

            They stared into each other's eyes.

            “Ned. Get off of me,” said Claire.

            Ned got off of Claire and sat back down on the sofa, holding a pillow to his chest.  Claire stayed in the chair breathing heavily.  They said nothing for a long time.  Claire wiped tears from her eyes.  Ned gritted his teeth.  Eventually, the tide of anger receded and they both apologized for the least harmful of their actions. 

            Ned said, “I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to push down on you like that.”

            Claire said, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you in the face with the pillow.”

            But, of course, both of them did want to do those things, because they did them.  They did want to hurt each other.  For the next two weeks, they both held back from saying and doing unkind things to each other.  Ned tried to talk more about his feelings and share what he was thinking.  Claire tried to think more positively about Ned and go at his pace.  Eventually, the facade began to crack.  Unkind gestures and thoughts leaked back in here and there.  A month after the incident they both were back to blaming each other for the problems in their relationship.  Soon enough, all trust was gone.

             If they had a guardian angel in their lives helping them with their relationship they might have realized that neither of them was to blame, that neither of them could change enough to please the other and that they couldn't change each other enough to become one.  If, on that New Year's Eve that seemed so long ago, an angel had been at the party they might have realized that they were not meant for each other.  If there had been such a guardian angel, they would not have spent all this time in pain and anguish trying to make something work that was never meant to be.  But there was no angel at the party and they didn't learn these things, like most people, before going through them. Claire let a spooky old crow scare her into the relationship and Ned, like a whipped dog, was led by his desperate hope and propped up expectations... like most people.

____________________________________________________________


What Will Be Will Be is the 29th story in The Book of Bartholomew. The story is written by Mark Granlund and cover illustration by James O'Brien.

At home, after gardening, Ned and Claire have a fight. Will they make up? Will they feel sorry and change their ways? Should they?   


Thursday, July 4, 2013

What Will Be Will Be - The Illustrations

The illustration for What Will Be Will Be was created by James O'Brien.  James is a freelance illustrator and an instructor at the College of Visual Arts in Saint Paul, MN.  James recently was included in the latest edition of 200 Best Illustrators Worldwide from Lürzer’s Archive.

I met James while working on the Flint Hills International Children's Festival last year.  His students worked on illustrations for the discovery boxes created for the garden display that I and my staff created.  I remember at the first meeting with James (this was also the first time the festival had partnered with James and the College of Visual Arts) everyone left the meeting thinking, "wow, what a great guy."  James has continued in the "great guy" tradition by being a part of The Book of Bartholomew and being a great guy to have coffee with (I don't drink coffee, but I enjoy watching other people drink coffee and James took to this rather well).

James submitted the above illustration for the story What Will Be Will Be which is basically a story about a fight between Claire and Ned.  I like the illustration because it captures a subtle aspect of the story: Claire moved into Ned's apartment, into his world, and she doesn't quite fit.  As the British say, she is "pink with unfitting." I also enjoy James' style of illustration and the quality of his line.

You can visit James' blog and read more about his illustrations and how he makes them. His most recent post is about a portrait of An Wang. In it he breaks down how he created the different layers of the illustration - quite interesting. James has also consented to creating another illustration for story #38: Broken Dreams in The Book of Bartholomew.

What Will Be Will Be will be published on Friday, July 5, 2013.

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

What Will Be Will Be - The Story

The next story to be published is titled What Will Be Will Be.  This was a hard story to write.  In this story, Claire and Ned just return home from planting the garden with Bartholomew and they get into a fight.  This fight is one that has been brewing for awhile and whose precursors have appeared in previous stories.  Life is hard when you are not meant for the person you are with.  It is especially hard when neither of you realize this.

People can be close, share their lives and then choose to be forever separated from each other.  This can happen with lovers, spouses and even children.  How is it that so much can be shared and then it is all thrown away?  This is a part of life that confuses and disappoints me.  When I was young I thought things were constant.  As I get older I find this is certainly not true, especially with relationships.

What Will Be Will Be is about two people who are fighting to have someone close, someone special.  They are forcing the person in front of them to be that special someone.  If they were to step outside of their desire, they would see the person in front of them for who they are, not what they want them to be.

Here is an excerpt from What Will Be Will Be, to be published at The Book of Bartholomew on Friday, July 5, 2013:


Claire collapsed in a stuffed chair that wasn't stuffed enough. “Ow,” she said as a spring poked her butt.

“Can't we get a new chair? This one is horrible,” she commented.

Ned sighed.

“What's up with you?” asked Claire.

“What do you mean?” responded Ned.

“You were quiet all day at the garden and Bartholomew's. You were crabby about where you were planting things and quiet the whole way home. And now you aren't answering my question. So, what's up?”

“Nothing's up. I just don't feel like talking.”

“You spend the whole day with your partner and your friends and you don't feel like talking? That's just weird.”

“My partner? What does that mean?” asked Ned, never having heard Claire use that term before.

“Uh, we've been living together for almost five months. At this point, it's not like I'm just a girlfriend.”

Ned wasn't sure what the difference would be between a girlfriend and a partner. “So, you’re my partner? Like a business partner? Like, you help me pay the rent and buy groceries and things like that? Cuz, last I checked, you still don't have a job. At this point, it's not like this is much of a partnership.”

Claire's heart winced but her anger did not. “What? You think of this as a business partnership? I didn't know there were conditions on me being here. Is that what you want?” Ned did not respond so Claire continued. “No, I don't have a job. But it’s not like I haven't taken care of things around here. It's not like I don't contribute. I clean the apartment and I cook and fix things. And I have paid for some things.”

“Look, I'm tired,” said Ned, “let's forget I said anything.”

Claire moved over to the couch. “I can't forget something like that. Is that why you've been quiet all day? You’re mad that I don't contribute around here?”

“It's not that you don't contribute, it's just that I needed a roommate to help cover the rent and here you are costing me more money. I'm dipping into my savings to float us here. I'm trying to save my money for other things.”

“Like what?” demanded Claire.

“Well, I've always tried to save enough money to cover four months worth of bills. That way I have a nest egg and if anything happens, like I lose my job, or I get sick or something, I have a cushion. It's the prudent thing to do.”

“What? You're saving money in order to save money? Being prudent is more important than our relationship?” asked Claire as tears came to her eyes.

“It's not that its more important...,” began Ned. He stopped. His mind raced back across time. He revisited all the times he felt that Claire was being unfair or demanding. He thought about how embarrassed he was when she was kicked out of the Earth Day Celebration and when she broke down at the spoken word event. He thought about how she kept expressing her opinion even when she knew it would be uncomfortable for him. He often had thought that Claire relied more on her gross-emotional skills than her fine-emotional skills. In a word, she was blunt – blunt as a stub. This even carried over to their love-making. Every time they made love, Claire needed it to be at a certain emotional pitch. She didn't have a sense of lingering, of spooning for hours or of having fun while being intimate. She seemed to have no imagination. It had to always be the same game, the same roles and then done.

Friday, June 28, 2013

#28 Growing a Community





            It was a beautiful spring morning.  The birds had been singing for a couple of hours and Bartholomew was singing, too.  “Go tell it on the mountain, over the hill and engines there...”  Whatever song or words came into Bartholomew's head he sang.  He was in a good mood because today was the day he and all of his friends were going to plant their garden. 

            “Oh Oliver,” said Bartholomew to his cat, “this is so exciting!  I can't wait to plant some kale.”

            Oliver jumped onto the sofa and laid down, “I hope you weren't expecting me to help?”

            “I wish you could join us!  It would be so much fun to have you there with everyone else.  But I know, you don't like the outdoors.”

            “No,” said Oliver, “the outdoors is for animals.”

            Bartholomew reached into the closet and pulled out a hat and a pair of work gloves.  He went quickly to the kitchen and packed some snacks and a couple bottles of water.  “Hmmmmm...mmm... Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam and the skies are not cloudy all day.  Home, home is so strange.  Where the deer and the cantelope plaaaaay!  Where seldom is heard a disparaging word and a guy can eat kale… aaaall...daaaaay!”
           
            Oliver buried his ears under his paws.  Bartholomew ran by the sofa, patted and rubbed Oliver on the head much too vigorously, and skipped to the door.  “Good-bye Oliver.”

            “Please, leave before you say 'yippee-skippee' again.”

            Bartholomew slammed the door behind him.

            Claire and Ned were already at the garden lot when Bartholomew arrived.  They had ridden bikes and they each had spades, small hand trowels and matching brand new gardening gloves.  Bartholomew thought they looked cute together. 

            “Hi, Claire. Ned,” said Bartholomew.

            They both said “hello” back and then Claire pointed to the street where Charlotte was just driving up.  Charlotte, whose window was rolled down, waved at them.  Like a reflex, they all waved back. 

            “Ready to plant?” Bartholomew asked Claire and Ned while Charlotte parked her car. 

            “Yeah!” yelled Claire.  Ned nodded while pulling at his dreds.

            “Wow, you guys have been busy,” said Charlotte, as she carried two metal rakes and nodded at a bunch of plants already in the ground.

            “That's Mr.McBardon's plot,” said Bartholomew.  “He put that in last weekend sometime.  I don't think it took him long, it just appeared one day.”

            “He wasn't kidding about that hedge,” said Claire, eyeing the taller plants around the perimeter of the plot.
           
            “I don't think it will keep out rats, but you sure can tell where his plot is,” said Charlotte, referring to a comment Mr. McBardon had made earlier.

Charlotte by Justin Terlecki

             “Well, lets mark out the garden and where everything is going,” said Bartholomew, pulling a tape measure out of his pocket.

            “Hey, where's Topping?” asked Claire.

            “He's working on Bartholomew's car,” said Charlotte.  When she was starting the sentence she felt a little regret that Topping was busy and didn't come to the garden with her.  But as she finished the sentence she remembered that Topping was doing something cool for Bartholomew.  “He said he would be here before noon.”

            The group of friends started to lay out the perimeter of the garden with string and stakes.  Bartholomew energetically took the lead in measuring and identifying corners, etc.  The rest, seeing how excited he was, gladly did what he asked.  As Ned was driving one stake into the ground, he hit a hard spot.  It was probably a rock, but the prospect of pounding into an underground gas line ran through Ned's head.  An image of himself being hurled in six different directions appeared before him.

            “Hey, Bartholomew, did you check on the property and all that stuff?  There aren't gas lines or anything underground, are there?”

            “Mr. McBardon was in such a hurry that he said he checked things out and everything is fine.  There isn't anything underground except, judging by that pile Mr. McBardon made, there might be rocks.”

            Ned moved the stake slightly to one side and pounded it in to the ground wondering if he could trust old Mr. McBardon.  He assured himself that they are not planting very deep.  Anything utilities underground would be much deeper – probably.

            As they were just about finished with the layout of the garden, Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine pulled up with a rented rototiller and a trailer full of soil.  Uncle Jeffrey honked the horn.  Everyone turned and waved.

            “You’re just in time,” called Bartholomew as Uncle Jeffrey was busy untying the rototiller. 

            “This looks great!” encouraged Aunt Josephine to Charlotte  “And look, you already have plants coming up!”

            “Those are Mr. McBardon's,” explained Claire.  “He planted those last week.”

            “Oh,” said Aunt Jospehine as she wrinkled her nose at the tall plants encircling his plot.

            Bartholomew and Uncle Jeffrey pulled the rototiller out of the back of the truck and wheeled it over to the garden.

            “Did you check on the property and utilities?” asked Uncle Jeffrey.

            “Yeah, well, actually, Mr. McBardon checked because he wanted to plant last weekend and he said it was all good.”

            Uncle Jeffrey looked over at Mr. McBardon's house and wondered if he could trust him. 

            In no time, the tiller was running and churning up the ground.  The dirt was compacted and everyone took turns using the tiller, except Aunt Josephine.   They left pathways between areas of the garden that Bartholomew was going to mow once a week.  As the rototiller finished an area, people would come behind with metal rakes and shovels to break the dirt up even more and to remove rocks.  They then would add new soil and the tiller would come back and mix it in.  Even before lunch time they finished, but everybody was so tired that they took a break.  Uncle Jeffrey and Bartholomew hoisted the tiller back into the truck to return it to the rental store. 

            As everyone headed back to Bartholomew's house, a car turned onto the street and honked at them.  Bartholomew stopped in the middle of the road, his eyes wide with disbelief.  He knew his car would look different when Topping was done painting it, but nothing could have prepared him for this.  Topping drove up in a 1974 Peugeot with flaming vegetables streaming off the front of the car and tumbling their way down the sides.  Red and orange flames licked out from behind green peppers, carrots and tomatoes.  There on the hood was the most amazing thing of all: a flaming leaf of kale spread from side to side. Everyone was laughing and cheering and admonishing Topping for doing an amazing job.  Topping had risen to the occasion.  

flaming vegetable car by Mark Granlund


            Everyone gathered around the car as Topping parked it along the curb.  Bartholomew still stood in the middle of the road, his mouth agape.  Topping cautiously approached him.

            “Well, Bartholomew, what do you think?”

            Bartholomew didn't know what to say.  It was the most amazing car he had ever seen.  He had thought flames would be cool, but Topping was right, Bartholomew was not thrilled by the original idea.  But this, this made everything perfect!  Now his car had cool flames AND all the vegetables that he loved.

            Bartholomew stepped forward and gave Topping a bear hug.  “Thank you,” he said into Topping’s ear.  “It is ah-amazing.”

            Bartholomew and Topping escorted each other to the car with their arms around each other’s shoulders.  Bartholomew studied the detail of the flames and how they seemed to be licking at the surfaces of the vegetables.  He noticed the surface detail in the carrots and the many, many, many folds in the kale leaf on the hood.  He was lost in some of those folds when he felt something on his leg.  He looked down to see a small pug dog humping his left leg.  He moved his leg and knocked the dog to the ground.  It was up immediately humping his leg again.  Bartholomew shook it off a second time and the little dog mounted Topping's leg.  Topping laughed and moved his leg to knock the dog off.

            “It's Hump-Pug,” said Ned.

            “What? Hump-Pug?” asked Bartholomew.

            “Yeah,” said Ned.  “This dog has been around town the last month or so.  It just keeps trying to hump things all the time.  People just started calling it Hump-Pug.”

Hump-Pug by Mark Granlund
            Topping laughed as Hump-Pug mounted him again.  He pushed her away again.  Hump-Pug ran to a nearby lamppost and did her thing.  Everyone started laughing.

            “C'mon, let's go inside and eat.  I brought pizza,” said Topping.  “I got vegetable pizza for you Bartholomew.”  Bartholomew imagined the vegetables on the pizza in the hot oven catching fire and then being thrown onto and becoming the skin of his 1974 Peugeot.  Beautiful.  As they walked into the house, he noticed Hump-Pug humping the mailbox.

            Bartholomew, his friends and his family had pizza and beer and talked about recipes they would like to make from the vegetables harvested from their garden.  Charlotte and Bartholomew agreed to share recipes and to cook together once a week.  Topping liked that idea.  Claire wanted to try a recipe called Carrots Marguerite.  She had seen it made on a cooking show.  Aunt Josephine and Uncle Jeffrey regaled them with stories of food they had eaten at weddings and other parties.  By the end of lunch, Bartholomew was sharing how his parents used to cook.  How his mom would forage food from the neighborhood parks and public spaces-- apple trees, current bushes, elderberry nectar and... Uncle Jeffrey and Aunt Josephine gave Bartholomew a stern look.  He stopped talking about his parents and suggested they head back out to the garden to plant the seeds and seedlings he and Uncle Jeffrey had picked up earlier that week. 

            Everyone filed out of the house to the garage where the plants were stored..  Bartholomew had expected to see Hump-Pug but she was nowhere in sight.  The group headed down to the garden with plants in tow.  Uncle Jeffrey drove off with the tiller to return it to the rental store.  Arriving at the garden, Topping said, “Wow, you guys have gotten far.  You even have plants coming up already!”

            “Those are Mr. McBardon's,” said everyone.  Everyone laughed.

            Bartholomew directed the planting effort.   He gave a quick training in how to plant the seeds and the seedlings. They each selected plants and consulted with Bartholomew where they were to plant them.   Charlotte and Aunt Josephine paired up to plant the tomatoes.  Bartholomew and Topping went to plant potatoes.  Claire and Ned stayed put and planted some lettuce seeds.

            There was light chatter amongst the planting couples, but after a short time everyone heard Ned say, “What's wrong with planting them here?”

            Claire responded, “The package says two to two and half feet.”

            “This is two to two and a half feet! Geez.”

            “Well, it needs to be right.  It should be back farther.”

            “Fine, plant it where you want it,” said Ned as he rose and moved to where Bartholomew and Topping were planting.  The three of them planted without talking.  Claire finished where she was and then joined Charlotte and Aunt Josephine.  They all spent the rest of the day moving from place to place within the garden planting their seeds and seedlings. 

            Uncle Jeffrey arrived and went to Mr. McBardon's house to set up a hose for watering.  Mr. McBardon was providing the hose, sprinkler and, of course, the water for the garden. It was a very generous gift.  Uncle Jeffrey pulled the hose over to the garden like he was hauling a long thin python.  Soon the dirt darkened as the water droplets fell on the tilled soil.  The beds were completed when Bartholomew filled the last one with kale seeds.

            “There,” said Bartholomew as he lightly tamped the ground and stood up.

            As the shadows began to grow long, everyone stood curbside and looked at the fruits of their labor.  The whole place smelled of wet earth.  Before them spread a fresh patch of soil filled with hope.  Bartholomew could see it already, green plants willing themselves out of the brown earth, growing larger with each passing week until they were ready to be gathered, brought to the kitchen, prepared and devoured.  He couldn't wait.

            “All right, everyone,” said Aunt Josephine, “back to Bartholomew's house for some dinner.  I'm cooking.”
           
            A cheer went up.  Seven weary bodies headed up the street, past a freshly painted car and into the house.  Some collapsed in the living room.  Others went to the kitchen to cook.  They all felt good about what they had done.  They talked about the afternoon and about the differences between seeds and seedlings.  As the sun was about to set, Bartholomew went to the door for one last look.  There, on the curb, was his car – a flaming vegetable mobile.  It made him smile.  He turned to see Topping who was laughing as he told a story to Claire and Uncle Jeffrey.  Bartholomew felt his chest grow as he took in a deep slow breath of appreciation.  He gazed down to the garden, there, at the end of the block.  In the dark shadows of approaching night he could make out the patches of tilled soil, the pathways and a low hedge of plants at the back.  He turned his attention to the people in the house – his friends and his family.  Again, he felt his chest grow as he took in a deep slow breath of satisfaction.  Satisfaction at having planted the garden. Satisfaction at having found some real friends.  And a deep satisfaction that he was, slowly, making his life into what he wanted it to be.

            Bartholomew heard a noise outside.  Across the street he could barely discern a small little four-legged something thrusting itself against the base of a light pole.  There was a yelp and then it was gone.  


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 Growing a Community is the 28th story in The Book of Bartholomew. The story is written by Mark Granlund and cover illustration by JM Culver

Bartholomew’s garden brings his friends and family together for a wonderful day of accomplishment and satisfaction - except for Ned and Claire - and the dog humping everything - and...